Page 50 of Secret Bratva Twins

“He’s still warming up,” Chiara says softly, her hand moving in slow, comforting strokes over his back.

“He’ll come around,” I reply, standing with Alyssa still clinging to me.

Katya rises gracefully, placing her cup down on the table. “I’ll leave you to your family time,” she says, her tone light but pointed. She presses a kiss to Alyssa’s cheek, pats Leo’s head, and gives Chiara a look that I can’t quite decipher before she exits the room.

The air shifts as her presence fades, leaving just the four of us.

“Papa, come play!” Alyssa tugs on my hand, pulling me toward the floor where Chiara sits with Leo still in her lap.

I let her guide me, lowering myself onto the floor beside them. Alyssa grabs a toy car and places it in my hand, her bright eyes watching expectantly.

“Drive it!” she commands, giggling as she picks up a second car and mimics a race.

I indulge her, rolling the car along the floor and making a halfhearted engine noise that sends her into a fit of laughter. It’sinfectious, and despite myself, I feel a faint smile tugging at my lips.

Chiara watches us, her expression softer than I’ve ever seen it. She doesn’t say anything, but there’s a flicker of surprise in her gaze, as if she hadn’t expected me to be capable of this.

Leo shifts in her lap, his small hand reaching tentatively toward the car. I hold it out to him, keeping my movements slow and deliberate. He hesitates, his wide eyes darting to Chiara for reassurance before he finally takes it.

“Good boy,” I murmur, watching as he grips the car tightly, his fingers wrapping around it as if it were a precious treasure.

Chiara smiles down at him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “See? Papa’s not so scary.”

Her words are light, teasing, but there’s an edge to them that makes me glance at her. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, there’s an understanding between us, fragile but present.

Alyssa climbs into my lap without warning, her small hands reaching up to frame my face. “Papa,” she says seriously, her nose wrinkling. “Can we have pancakes?”

I chuckle softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I think we can do better than pancakes. Let’s see what the kitchen has prepared.”

Her squeal of excitement fills the room, and she scrambles off me, pulling Leo to his feet. Together, they dart toward the dining table, their laughter echoing as they climb into their chairs.

I follow, glancing back to see Chiara standing, her expression unreadable as she watches the children. She joins me at the table, taking a seat across from me as the staff begins to bring out breakfast.

The scent of something sweet wafts through the air, and when the plates are set down, my gaze locks on the dish in front of me. French toast, golden and crisp, dipped in milk and sprinkled lightly with powdered sugar.

I glance at Chiara, my brow lifting slightly. She avoids my gaze, her focus entirely on cutting a piece for Alyssa.

“French toast,” I say casually, my tone low.

Her hand stills for the briefest moment, her lips pressing into a thin line before she resumes. “It’s the children’s favorite.”

I pick up my fork, cutting a piece and lifting it to my mouth. The taste is rich, the milk softening the crisp edges. My eyes don’t leave her as I chew slowly, deliberately.

Her gaze finally flicks up to meet mine, and I see the tension there, the memory of what this dish once meant hanging between us.

“It’s good,” I say simply, offering a faint smirk.

She says nothing, turning her attention back to the children, but I catch the faintest flush of color on her cheeks.

As we eat, Alyssa chatters nonstop about her plans for the day, waving her fork animatedly. Leo is quieter, humming softly and eating steadily, his little hands clutching his utensils with determination. Chiara sits across from me, her focus shifting between the children, a small smile tugging at her lips every now and then. I lean back in my chair, my gaze lingering on Chiara. She’s a good mother. That much is undeniable.

Katya, seated at the head of the table, sips her tea gracefully, though her expression is distant. Finally, she places her cup down, the softclinkdrawing everyone’s attention.

“I’ll need to leave shortly,” she says, her tone brisk but not unkind. “There’s some business I need to attend to.”

Chiara glances at her, a flicker of curiosity crossing her face. “What kind of business?”

Katya smiles faintly but doesn’t elaborate. “The kind that keeps our world turning.” Her gaze shifts to the children, softening. “Be good for your mother and father today, my darlings.”

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