Page 42 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

I catch Nikolai winking at me from the stage, a silent acknowledgment. A reminder of the game we’re playing.

The applause crashes over me, and I nod once, the perfect picture of cool detachment.

But my heart’s not here.

It’s with her.

And I don’t know if I’m winning… or about to lose everything.

I duck out from the wave of applause, heading toward the bar with a forced smile. I need something cold, something sharp, anything to dull the storm brewing under my skin.

But the crowd parts in a strange way, too clean, too easy.

That’s when I see the woman.

Elegant. Cold. Walking with the kind of purpose that sets off every internal alarm I’ve got.

A navy, satin dress clings to her like second skin, her dark hair swept in front of her face, making it hard to discern any facial features.

She bumps into me. Deliberately.

“Sorry.” Her voice is ice. Russian-accented. Familiar in a way that turns my spine to stone.

Before I can reply, her hand dips into my jacket. A flick of her fingers. Smooth. Practiced. Then she’s gone, swallowed by the crowd like she was never there.

I reach into my pocket.

A folded note. Thick paper. Heavy ink.

My pulse hammers.

I open it.

“You'll both suffer like I did.”

No name. No signature.

Just a threat.

But it feels real. Too fucking real.

I spin, eyes scanning the ballroom.

But she’s gone. No trace. No echo. Just shadows and crystal chandeliers.

I crush the paper in my hand, jaw tight.

Not here. Not tonight. Not with Sophie in this room.

Because if this threat is what I think it is, if it's tied to the Bratva mess, or worse, then someone just painted a target on Sophie’s back.

And I’ll be damned if I let them get away with it.

My fist curls around the note, knuckles white, rage pulsing like a war drum in my ears.

“You’ll both suffer like I did.”

Who the hell is targeting her through me?

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