Page 57 of Use Me, Daddy

He reached for something inside his jacket—a weapon, maybe, or a signal for backup. I lunged at him, grabbing his wrist, and slamming him into the wall. The painting clattered to the floor, but I barely noticed it. My focus was on subduing this bastard before he could hurt Amy or anyone else.

Amy gasped, her eyes widening as she watched me grapple with the man. I knew she was seeing a side of me she hadn’t before—one that was far from the polished, charming art dealer I pretended to be. But I couldn’t think about that now.

The man swung at me wildly, but I dodged, my fist connecting with his jaw with a sickening crack. He staggered, blood trickling from his lip, but I wasn’t through with him. I pinned him against the wall, my forearm pressing into his throat.

“Who sent you?” I hissed, my voice a low growl. “Was it Mikhail?”

His eyes widened at the mention of his boss’ name, but he stayed stubbornly silent, his gaze darting toward Amy as if she was his to look at.

That was a mistake.

I slammed him harder against the wall, feeling the bones in his wrist crack under my grip.

Amy’s panicked gasp was the only warning I had before the bastard swung at me. He lunged with a knife, the blade glinting in the faint glowing lights of the emergency lamps. I didn’t know where it had come from, but there was no time to focus on that. I barely had time to pull Amy behind me, my instincts taking over as I blocked his wild strike with my forearm. The sting of metal grazing my skin sent a jolt of pain through me, but I was too fueled by adrenaline to let it slow me down.

“You picked the wrong fucking night,” I snarled, stepping forward and slamming my fist into his jaw with a bone-crunching force. He stumbled back, but he was quicker than he looked, twisting out of my reach, and throwing a savage kick toward my ribs.

I deflected the kick with my elbow, gritting my teeth as the impact reverberated up my arm. This wasn’t just some low-level thug. He was trained—maybe even one of Mikhail’s enforcers. But I’d grown up with four brothers.

I was ready for this.

He came at me again, a flurry of brutal strikes aimed at my head and torso. I dodged, weaving out of the way with the precision of a predator, waiting for my opening. He was strong, but he was sloppy. I could see it in the way his movements lacked discipline, his eyes darting to Amy, looking for an opportunity to grab her.

Not a fucking chance.

I feinted to the left, drawing him in, then countered with a hard uppercut to his stomach. The air left his lungs in a whoosh, and before he could recover, I grabbed his wrist, twisting it until the knife clattered to the floor. He let out a pained grunt, but I didn’t give him time to react. I drove my knee into his gut, feeling the satisfying crunch of ribs giving way.

Amy stood frozen behind me, her eyes wide with shock. She was seeing a side of me she hadn’t seen before—the side I kept hidden beneath tailored suits and a calm, collected demeanor. But there was no hiding it now.

I was a Morozov, and this was what I did best.

The thug let out a strangled growl and tried to swing at me with his free hand, but I ducked under the blow, my own fist colliding with the side of his head. He staggered, blood spraying from his mouth, and I followed up with a swift kick to the back of his knee. He went down hard, but even then, he didn’t quit.

Desperation made him reckless. He lunged for the knife again, but I was faster, stepping on his wrist with enough force to make him scream.

“You think you can come into my territory?” I hissed, my voice low and dangerous. “You think you can threaten what’s mine?”

He spat blood, his eyes filled with defiance. “This is only the beginning,” he wheezed, a dark grin spreading across his bloody lips.

I didn’t hesitate. My fist collided with the side of his head,hard, knocking him out cold before he could utter another word. His body slumped to the floor, and I stood over him, my chest heaving with adrenaline.

“Jesus Christ, Aleksei…” Amy’s voice was barely more than a whisper behind me.

I turned to her, wiping the blood off my knuckles with the back of my hand. She was staring at me like she didn’t know who I was, her eyes wide with a mix of fear, confusion, and something that looked like reluctant admiration.

“You… you just—” she stammered, her gaze darting between me and the unconscious man at my feet. “Who the hell are you?”

Before I could answer, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. Roman and Sergei burst into the room, guns drawn, their eyes sweeping the area before landing on me.

“Boss, you good?” Roman asked, his gaze flicking to Amy, who was still trying to process what she’d just witnessed.

“I’m fine,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “But he’s not,” I added, nudging the unconscious thug with my foot. “Get him outof here. And make sure he remembers exactly who he tried to steal from.”

Roman nodded, signaling to Sergei to secure the man. As they dragged him away, I turned back to Amy, whose hands were shaking slightly, her eyes filled with questions.

I reached for her, my fingers curling around her arm to steady her. “Amy, listen to me,” I said, my voice softer now, but still carrying that edge of command. “You’re safe. But we need to get out of here before more of them show up.”

She looked up at me, her eyes searching mine for answers. “Aleksei, what the hell is going on? Who were those men?”

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