Page 7 of Accidental Bratva Daddy

Where are you? We're waiting in the lobby. Dad's getting antsy.

I grimace, glancing at the time. I hadn't realized how late it was getting.

On my way,I type back.Sorry for the delay.

With one last look around the room to make sure I haven't forgotten anything, I head out. As the door clicks shut behind me, I force thoughts of Luka to the back of my mind. It's time to focus on family.

The elevator ride to the lobby feels interminable. When the doors finally open, I'm greeted by the sight of my family huddled together near the check-out desk. My father paces back and forth, checking his watch every few seconds, while my mother tries to calm him down.

"There you are!" Alina exclaims as I approach. "We were about to send a search party."

"Sorry, sorry," I say, flashing an apologetic smile. "I overslept."

My father's eyebrows shoot up. "Overslept? That's not like you, Natalia."

I shrug, hoping my face doesn't betray the memories of last night that flash through my mind. "Late night working on designs," I lie smoothly. "Lost track of time. You know how it is.”

He seems to accept this, nodding briskly. "Well, we'd better get moving. We don't want to miss our flight."

As we make our way to the waiting car, I can't help but notice the tension radiating off my father. His jaw is clenched, his movements stiff and jerky. It's so unlike his usual easy demeanor that I find myself watching him closely as we drive to the airport.

I wonder if someone said something to him last night, or if he ended up overhearing the gossip going around. I thought him to be impervious to it, but now I’m beginning to have doubts.

The usually cool plush leather seat feels sticky and uncomfortable beneath me, and I have to peel myself off of it when we arrive at the airport.

The flight to Isla Miramar is uneventful, but I can't shake the growing sense of unease that settles over me as we near our destination. My father is oddly quiet, his usual easy charm replaced by a tense silence. Even Alina seems subdued, her cheerful chatter noticeably absent.

"Is everything okay?" I whisper to her as we begin our descent.

Alina glances at our parents before leaning in close. "I'm not sure," she replies. "Dad's been acting weird ever since he got off the phone with Uncle Viktor this morning. Something about a change of plans."

I frown, my unease deepening. "What kind of change?"

But before Alina can answer, the captain's voice crackles over the intercom, announcing our final approach. The conversation is put on hold as we prepare for landing.

As we disembark and make our way through the small island airport, the tension only grows. Uncle Viktor is waiting for us at baggage claim, his broad smile not quite reaching his eyes.

"Welcome to paradise!" he booms, pulling my father into a bear hug. I don't miss the way my father stiffens at the contact, or the fleeting look of... something that passes between them.

"Viktor," my father says, his voice carefully neutral. "I trust your flight was smooth?"

Uncle Viktor waves a hand dismissively. "Oh, you know how it is. Private jets make everything easier." He winks at Alina and me. "You girls should try it sometime."

I force a smile, but something about Uncle Viktor's jovial manner feels off. It's too bright, too forced, like he's overcompensating for something.

As we load our luggage into the waiting cars, Uncle Viktor clears his throat. "Ah, Igor, there's been a small change of plans. We've switched hotels."

My father's head snaps up, his eyes narrowing. "What do you mean, switched hotels? We've had these reservations for months."

Uncle Viktor shrugs, the picture of nonchalance. "I know, I know. But an opportunity came up at the last minute. A friend of mine offered us his private villa. Much more secluded, better security. You understand."

The muscle in my father's jaw ticks, a sure sign he's angry. "Viktor, the whole point of staying at the resort was to keep everyone together. That's why I booked it in the first place."

"Oh, come now, brother," Uncle Viktor says, clapping my father on the shoulder. "No need to get worked up. Tell you what, why don't you take the Presidential Suite? It's grand, plenty of room for all of you. Consider it my treat."

For a moment, I think my father might argue. But then he sighs, the fight seeming to drain out of him. "Fine," he says shortly. "Let's just get to the hotel. It's been a long day."

As we climb into the cars, I catch Alina's eye. She looks as confused and unsettled as I feel. Something is definitely off between our father and uncle, but I can't put my finger on what.

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