Page 18 of Ruthless Daddies

We drive in silence the rest of the way, and by the time we pull into the long, winding drive leading up to the house, my nerves have wound into tight coils.

When the car stops, Sergei opens the door for me, offering a small nod as I step out. “Goodnight, Miss Parker,” he says, and there’s something almost soft in his tone, a small hint of kindness that surprises me.

“Goodnight, Sergei,” I reply, giving him a faint smile before turning toward the house. I walk quietly, my heels barely making a sound on the stone path as I approach the door. The lights inside are dim, and I slip inside, trying to be as quiet as possible. The last thing I want is to run into anyone right now. I need a moment to breathe, to think.

But as I step into the foyer, I feel it again—that prickle at the back of my neck, the unmistakable sensation of being watched. I freeze, my heart pounding, and I turn slowly, fists clenched at my sides, ready for whatever—or whoever—I might find.

“Easy there,” a deep, amused voice drawls from the shadows. “You’ve got quite the instincts, little mouse.”

A figure steps into the light, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. It’s Alexei, uncle to the Morozov brothers. He’s wearing a dark suit, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back. I’ve seen him around the house before, always moving with the same easy, confident grace, but we’ve never actually spoken.

“Alexei,” I say, trying to catch my breath. “You startled me.”

He chuckles, taking a slow step closer, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Did I? Or were you just expecting someone else?”

I swallow hard, forcing a smile. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“Ah,” he says, tilting his head, studying me with that same sharp, appraising look I’m starting to recognize in all the Morozovs. “You’ve got good instincts, though. That’s rare, especially for someone like you.”

I bristle slightly at his words, but I can tell he doesn’t mean it as an insult. He’s genuinely amused, like he’s found something interesting he didn’t expect. “Someone like me?” I echo, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” he says lightly, his smile widening. “Someone who isn’t used to the shadows but finds herself in them anyway. Tell me, Alice, did you enjoy your little outing tonight?”

I glance away, heat rising in my cheeks. “It wasn’t exactly what I planned,” I admit.

“No,” he agrees, stepping closer until he’s just a few feet away. “But it rarely is, is it? You’re learning quickly, though. Perhaps quicker than my nephews would like.”

There’s something in his tone, a hint of warning mixed with curiosity, and it makes me uneasy. I force myself to meet his gaze, lifting my chin. “I’m just trying to do my job,” I say firmly.

He gives a soft laugh, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Oh, I’m sure you are.”

He turns then, leaving me standing in the dimly lit foyer. I watch him disappear down the hallway, my heart still pounding, my mind racing.

I let out a shaky breath, forcing myself to move, to head upstairs to my room. I need to regroup, need to figure out what the hell happened tonight and what it means for me.

But one thing is clear—I’m in deeper than I thought, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to find my way back out.

8

IVAN

The cool morning air is crisp against my skin, the faint scent of dew lingering in the garden as I push through the last set of pull-ups on the steel bar mounted between two thick oak trees. My arms burn with effort, the satisfying ache that courses through my muscles grounding me. The rhythmic pull of my body upward and the deliberate exhale as I lower myself—this is the only time my mind feels still.

The mansion is quiet at this hour, the city’s distant hum barely audible over the chirping of birds in the hedges.

But then I feel it—that prickle at the back of my neck, the undeniable sensation of being watched. It’s not threatening, not hostile.

I know exactly who it is.

I don’t stop, don’t break my rhythm, but I let my gaze drift upward as I lower myself, my arms locking out at full extension. Her window. It has the perfect view of this part of the garden, and there she is, just barely visible behind the sheer curtains. She’s watching me again.

Alice.

I know I should be irritated. She’s invading my space, my solitude, and yet…I’m not. If anything, a strange heat coils in my chest, a pull I can’t quite ignore.

I drop to the ground, grabbing the towel slung over a nearby chair. My shirt is already soaked through, clinging to my skin, but I make no move to change it. Instead, I glance back up at the window, just in time to see her duck behind the curtains, disappearing as quickly as she appeared.

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth. She thinks I didn’t see her, but I always do. Every time.

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