Chapter 22: Mafia Prince’s Secret Baby: Chapter 21

A knock on the door pulls me out of the little universe I’ve built with Damien and Sofiya. Blocks are scattered across the rug, and Sofiya’s hands are gripping one of Damien’s prized Lego bricks as if it’s the most important thing in the world. Damien is mid-sentence, explaining why his castle needs “defense towers on every side,” when my head snaps up toward the door.

Two figures stand there, framed in the doorway like they own the place—which, technically, one of them does.

“Lev!” Damien yells, abandoning his castle-in-progress and darting toward his cousin.

I get to my feet, my eyes already narrowing as I focus on the taller figure. “Does Nik know his son’s here?” I ask Aleks as I move toward Lev, pressing a quick kiss to the boy’s cheek.

Aleks shrugs, all casual confidence, like I didn’t just ask him about the impending wrath of Nikolai Volkov. “I mentioned to Kata that the cousins should have a playdate,” he says, glancing at the trio of kids now converging on the castle. “She agreed, and so here we are.”

I nod, though skepticism curls in the back of my mind. Katarina Volkov must have worked some serious magic to convince her husband to send his only son into this house of horrors. Nikolai protects Lev like he’s the last jewel in a world full of thieves. That he’d let the boy anywhere near Igor’s home—even under Kata’s supervision—seems… unlikely.

“Don’t worry,” Aleks says, breaking into my thoughts. His tone is casual, but there’s a hint of something reassuring in it, like he’s trying to put me at ease. “We’ll all have fun. You can rest easy.”

His gaze flicks back to the kids, and he shifts his weight, stuffing his hands into his pockets like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

“We?” I ask, my curiosity piqued. “What do you mean, we?”

“Yes,” Aleks says, flashing me a grin—one of those cocky, almost-smiles that makes me want to throw something at him.

I roll my eyes but then come up with an idea. “We could always go out,” I suggest. “I could use some fresh air, and the kids will love playing in the park.”

Aleks scrunches his nose like I just suggested we walk them into enemy territory unarmed. “That’s a cute idea and all, but Damien is still Igor’s only heir. He can’t leave the house. Not without sufficient security.”

“Bring as many men as you want,” I reply with a shrug. As soon as the thought of going to the park enters my mind, it’s a done deal. “We’re going.”

Aleks frowns, clearly not thrilled. “I don’t like the sound of that,” he mutters, glancing nervously at Damien, who’s busy explaining castle-building logistics to Lev. “It’s best we stick to the mansion’s yard. They’ve got plenty of toys there.”

I narrow my eyes, my expression hardening. Kids need more than a fenced-in yard. They need the space to run wild, breathe fresh air, climb trees, and burn off the chocolate-fueled energy Irina keeps pumping into them like she’s trying to raise a pack of caffeinated wolves.

“These three are the heirs of the two most powerful families in New York City,” I tell him, my tone firm. “No one will dare come near them. That said, you’ve got half an hour to assemble your men while I get the kids ready.”

Aleks looks like he wants to argue but wisely decides against it. He exhales a long breath, then nods. “Half an hour it is,” he concedes before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

The time passes quickly. After a snack, the kids are practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. Sofiya can barely stay still long enough for me to tug her favorite red beanie over her messy curls. The second the car doors close behind them, five black SUVs surround us like we’re a presidential motorcade. Sokolov’s best—and worst—men flank the vehicles, bristling with enough firepower to stop a small army.

“I can’t believe I’m driving a minivan,” Aleks grumbles under his breath as he slides into the driver’s seat. “And this beast doesn’t even have a sport mode.”

I glance over my shoulder at the chaos in the back. Damien is listening intently as Lev launches into a lecture about space exploration, while Sofiya is busy tormenting Dominik Popov, Aleks’s head of security. She’s tugging on his obnoxiously patterned tie with her sticky little hands, giggling as she runs her fingers over the tacky fabric.

Dominik, to his credit, manages to maintain his composure—though the tight-lipped smile he gives her screams help me.

“I think it suits you,” I tease Aleks as I settle into the passenger seat. “Besides, it’s the only way to fit all the car seats and Dominik.”

Dominik’s glare flicks toward me at the mention of his name, his massive frame filling every inch of available space in the backseat. Next to the kids, he looks like he’s been crammed into a dollhouse.

Aleks slides on his sunglasses and shifts gears with a sigh.

“Why the buzzcut?” I ask, breaking the silence. “Is it a military thing?”

He glances at me, then back at the rearview mirror. “Nah. Just didn’t feel like using three different shampoos and gels to make me look cool. I’ll leave that to Igor while I stick to being a badass.”

I arch an eyebrow, my lips curving into a smirk. “You and Igor fight over hair product?”

Aleks chuckles. “I’m joking. Can’t a man have fun?”

“Not if he’s Russian,” I shoot back.

“Touché,” Aleks says, grinning before turning his attention back to the road.

The drive is quiet after that, short and uneventful. Fifteen minutes later, we pull into the park, and the kids practically explode out of the car, cheering as they race across the grass toward the Heckscher Playground.

“Oh, look at this!” I squeal, my excitement bubbling over as I step out of the minivan. “Isn’t it amazing?”

Aleks gives the playground a dismissive glance. “It’s a kid’s playground.”

I roll my eyes.

As if on cue, the children erupt in laughter and cheers as they sprint toward the jungle gym. Lev helps Sofiya climb the ladder, while Damien shouts instructions from the top of the slide like a tiny dictator. Aleks’s men follow close behind, their sharp suits comically out of place against the backdrop of swings and slides.

“Would you like to sit down?” Aleks asks, gesturing toward a bench with a clear view of the playground.

“Sure,” I say, following him.

As I settle onto the bench, my gaze sweeps the playground, scanning for Sofiya. Lev is helping her climb again, his tiny hand gripping hers to steady her.

Aleks clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably beside me.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he begins, his tone unusually cautious.

“Alright,” I say slowly, already bracing myself for whatever he’s about to say.

He fidgets, trying to find a position that works for his long legs on the short bench. “I just want you to know… you can always count on me. I’ll be the best uncle for Sofiya. And if you need one, I can be your friend too.”

I narrow my eyes, already suspicious. “Yeah, okay. That’s nice. What’s the catch?”

Aleks hesitates, his gaze fixed on the kids. “I think you should be nicer to Igor,” he finally says.

Nice? As in… fucking his brains out nice?

My eyes nearly pop out of my head at the thought.

“Whatever’s going on between you two—stop,” Aleks says firmly. “Igor can’t afford distractions. Not now. He needs to keep his head in the game.”

I stare at him, equal parts annoyed and amused. “You’re unbelievable, Aleks.”

But deep down, I know he’s not entirely wrong.

My lips curl before I can stop them, and the words tumble out like water breaking through a dam. “Please tell me you’re not saying what I think you’re saying. Tell me you’re not acting as Igor’s messenger boy!” I shake my head, a bitter laugh bubbling out. “Even I didn’t think he was such a weasel.”

“Igor has no idea I’m talking to you,” Aleks says firmly, his expression unchanging. “I didn’t even tell him we went to the park.”

I close my eyes and breathe through the anger clawing its way to the surface. Too bad. If Igor had sent Aleks to speak on his behalf, it would’ve been all the excuse I needed to kick him square in the balls. That man doesn’t realize his time with Sofiya and me is running out. He might believe otherwise—Igor Sokolov always believes he’s the exception to the rules—but we’re not staying in New York. The second Sofiya’s treatment is done, we’ll be on the first flight back to Moscow. My little girl and I will go home. Back to our lives.

“Are you okay?” Aleks asks, his sharp eyes scanning my face. “Did I say something wrong?”

“This entire conversation is wrong,” I hiss through clenched teeth.

“Well, suck it up,” Aleks snaps, his calm veneer cracking. The softness from earlier is gone, replaced with a sharper, harder demeanor. “You might not see it, but Igor’s breaking his back to keep you and Sofiya safe. He called in countless favors so Dr. Tolliver would personally treat Sofiya. He’s doing everything he can to give you the best of everything.”

I shrug, my gaze shifting toward the kids, who are now laughing as Lev chases Damien across the grass.

Aleks takes my silence as an invitation to keep going. “Let me spell it out for you because it looks like you need to hear it. You’re fighting him at every step, challenging him on everything, arguing his every decision. Face it, Katya—you’re not a single parent anymore.”

The words hit like a slap, and before I can stop myself, I snap, “Fuck you, Aleks.”

The rage surges through me, hot and uncontainable. No one—not Aleks, not anyone—has the right to lecture me about how I act with Igor. Or how I parent.

“No, fuck you,” Aleks snarls back, standing up so fast the bench creaks under the shift in weight. He towers over me, his imposing frame casting a long shadow. He glares down at me like a man ready to unleash hell, his voice dropping to a menacing growl. “Igor’s not so bad when you actually get to know him. Did you even try to give him a chance?”

I shoot to my feet, my chest heaving. “You want to talk about getting to know people, Aleksander?” I whisper shout, my voice shaking with fury. “Let me remind you of something: a wolf might change its coat, but it doesn’t change its disposition.”

His lips twist into a smirk, but his ice-blue eyes are cold and unrelenting. “So that’s it, huh? You’re the only one who gets to change? You’re the only one entitled to a second chance?”

“It’s not the same,” I bite out through clenched teeth, forcing myself to keep my voice low enough that the kids don’t hear. “He’s a criminal. A murderer. And I don’t even want to think about what else. It goes against every fiber of my being as a judge to even breathe the same air as him.”

“And yet,” Aleks says softly, his smirk fading, “here you are.”

His words strike a nerve, and I feel the air leave my lungs in a rush. I look away, my hands balling into fists at my sides.

“The sooner you accept it, the easier your life will be,” Aleks continues, his tone gentler now, but no less cutting. “You can’t resist him, Katya. You’re attracted to him. Hell, you might even have feelings for him. If it helps, I’m pretty sure he does too.”

“Fuck off, Aleks,” I mutter, turning away and refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

“Fine,” Aleks says, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. “Keep lying to yourself if you must.”

He pulls out his phone and stalks away, putting distance between us. I watch him for a moment, pacing as he speaks into the phone, his expression neutral.

I take a deep breath, forcing the heat in my chest to subside, and turn my attention back to the playground. The sound of laughter draws my eyes to Sofiya, who’s giggling uncontrollably as Lev pushes her on a swing. Damien stands on the swing next to them, trying to gain momentum.

Oh, to be so young and carefree. It’s a privilege I haven’t felt in years.

But Aleks’s words replay in my mind, looping endlessly like a bad joke that refuses to fade. Who the hell does he think he is? He doesn’t know me. He has no idea what I’ve been through, how hard I’ve fought to leave this life behind. Bratva blood runs in my family’s veins, but I swore I wouldn’t let it define me.

Vasiliy is the only one who has the right to tell me what he thinks. He was the one who stood by me when I chose to follow the law, who didn’t laugh or scoff when I told him I wanted to become a judge. He was the one who comforted me when I found out I was pregnant with Sofiya, who promised me I could raise her without the shadow of our family looming over us.

I glance back at Sofiya, her beanie askew as she flies through the air, pure joy lighting up her face. My chest tightens, the weight of my choices pressing down harder than ever.

“What would Vasiliy do?” I whisper to myself, the question tumbling from my lips before I can stop it.