Page 17 of Ruthless Daddies

“Nothing,” I say quickly, shaking my head, but my heart is pounding for an entirely different reason now. There was something about that man, something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Ivan studies me for a moment longer, his eyes searching mine. I can tell he doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he steps back, his expression smoothing into that unreadable mask again. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Great, can’t wait for that.

The moment I step outside, the cool night air hits me like a slap, clearing some of the fog from my mind. I breathe in deeply, trying to ground myself, trying to make sense of what just happened.

I glance around, half expecting to see Ivan following me out, but it’s not him who steps into view. It’s Sergei.

He’s leaning against the sleek black limo parked by the curb, arms crossed, watching me with that same expression he always has—neutral, detached, like he’s observing everything while giving nothing away.

He straightens when he sees me, opening the back door with a small nod.

“Sergei,” I say, my voice coming out more shaky than I intended. “I?—”

He doesn’t say a word, just gestures for me to get in. I sigh, turning back to find Jenna, who’s just stumbling out of the club, her expression a mix of excitement and confusion.

“Jenna,” I call, waving her over. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

She hurries over, her eyes wide as she takes in the limo. “Holy shit, Alice,” she breathes, sliding in after me. “This is how you’re getting home? Are you sure you’re just a nanny?”

“Just get in,” I mutter, glancing up at Sergei, who’s watching us both like we’re two kids causing trouble. He closes the door once we’re inside, and a moment later, the engine purrs to life and we’re gliding away from the curb.

The interior of the limo is plush, all black leather and dim, ambient lights. It’s the kind of luxury you don’t see unless you’re very rich or very powerful. Jenna sinks back into the seat, her eyes wide as she looks around, taking it all in.

“Okay,” she says after a long, quiet moment. “This is insane. You realize this, right? That guy back there, Ivan—he looks like he could crush someone with his bare hands. And now we’re in this freaking limo, like we’re in some kind of mob movie.”

I glance up at the rearview mirror and catch Sergei’s eyes watching us. His expression gives nothing away, but I know he’s listening. He’s always listening.

“Jenna,” I say quietly, trying to give her a look that saysdrop it.

She doesn’t take the hint. “I’m serious, Alice,” she whispers, leaning closer. “They really might be gangsters, you know? Like actual mafia or something.”

I feel a jolt of unease, a cold twist in my stomach at the way she says it so casually, like it’s a joke. But I can’t laugh, not when I know she might be closer to the truth than either of us wants to admit.

I force a smile, shaking my head. “You watch too many movies.”

Jenna snorts, but she doesn’t push it further, not after she catches the look I give her. She glances up at the rearview mirror, meeting Sergei’s eyes, and she goes quiet, shrinking back into her seat until we drop her off at her apartment.

As the car glides through the quiet streets, I let the silence hang between Sergei and me, hoping it’ll stay that way. But after a few moments, I feel his gaze flicker toward me in the rearview mirror.

“You enjoyed yourself tonight, Miss Alice?” His voice is low, calm, with that ever-present edge of formality.

I hesitate, searching for the right response. “I…yes, I suppose so. I didn’t expect to run into anyone, though,” I say carefully, watching his expression in the mirror. There’s a flicker of something there, a brief glint of amusement.

“Quite the surprise,” he murmurs, and for a moment, I think he’s going to drop it, but then he adds, “You’re aware the club belongs to the family, aren’t you?”

I blink, caught off guard. “The family?”

He nods, a hint of a smile ghosting across his otherwise serious expression. “Yes, Nebula. It’s one of the family’s…business ventures. The Morozov brothers oversee it, among other things.”

The information settles in slowly, but it makes sense now—their familiarity with the place, the way Dmitri pulled me off the dance floor like he had every right. They weren’t just there by chance; they were there because they own the place.

“I didn’t realize,” I murmur, mostly to myself. “I thought it was just a coincidence.”

“There are no coincidences in our world,” Sergei replies, his voice low but firm. “You’re smart, Miss Parker. But be careful. The deeper you look, the more you’ll see, and not all of it is meant for your eyes.”

It’s the closest thing to a warning I’ve gotten from him, and I don’t know whether to feel grateful or terrified. “Oh,” I say quietly, not sure how else to respond. There’s so much I don’t know, so much I’m starting to realize I may never fully understand about this family. And the more I learn, the more I realize just how far out of my depth I might be.

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