Page 25 of Ruthless Daddies

His eyes narrow, his fists clenching at his sides. “Not enough to act with sense.”

“I acted to protect them,” I snap, my voice lowering into a growl. “And I did. Luka is safe. Mila is safe. I won’t apologize for that.”

“You won’t need to if you stop making decisions that put them in harm’s way,” he bites back, his tone colder now, morecontrolled. “You think one injured man will give us answers? You think shooting him in the leg solves anything?”

“It’s a start,” I say firmly. “And it’s more than we had before.”

Ivan exhales sharply, turning away from me, his hands braced against the desk as he stares down at the polished wood. His shoulders are tense, his breathing heavy, and I know his anger isn’t just at me—it’s at the situation, at the fact that someone dared to touch what’s his.

“I’ll find him,” I say after a long moment, my voice softer now. “I’ll make sure he can’t come near them again. And I’ll find out who sent him.”

Ivan doesn’t respond immediately. When he finally turns back to me, his expression is harder, sharper, but there’s something else there too—something raw and vulnerable that he’s trying to bury beneath the rage.

“You’d better,” he says quietly, his voice laced with a quiet, deadly promise. “Because if they come again, if they so much as breathe in Mila or Luka’s direction, there won’t be anywhere on this earth they can hide.”

The house is quiet,the kind of heavy silence that seems to settle only after a storm. I lie on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, the events of the day playing on a loop in my mind.

Sleep is a distant dream tonight.

I sit up, running a hand through my hair, considering pouring myself a drink when a soft knock at the door pulls me from mythoughts. I glance at the clock—almost midnight. Frowning, I cross the room and pull the door open.

Alice stands there, her expression uncertain, her arms crossed over herself as if she’s not sure she should be here. She’s wearing a jacket, zipped up tightly, but beneath it, I catch a glimpse of something silky—a nightdress. My imagination takes flight for a moment, unbidden images filling my mind, and I have to force myself to focus.

“Alice,” I say, my voice low. “What are you doing here?”

“I—” She hesitates, glancing down the hall before looking back at me. “I couldn’t sleep. I needed to talk to you.”

Her voice is soft, almost hesitant, and there’s something about the way she stands there, vulnerable and unsure, that makes me step aside. “Come in.”

She steps inside, her movements cautious as if she’s still deciding whether this was a good idea. I close the door behind her, leaning against it as I watch her take a seat on the edge of my couch, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

“You okay?” I ask, crossing my arms as I study her.

She nods quickly, but her eyes tell a different story. “I just…I wanted to thank you,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “For earlier. For taking the blame with Ivan. I know he would’ve fired me if he knew it was my idea to take the kids to the park.”

I shrug, moving to sit on the armrest of the couch, just a few feet from her. “Ivan’s temper isn’t your problem. He’s just…protective. Too much, sometimes.”

“Still,” she says, looking up at me, her green eyes bright in the dim light. “You didn’t have to do that. But you did. And I…I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” I say, my voice softening. “I’ll always have your back, Alice.”

The words hang in the air, heavier than I intended, and I can see the way they hit her, the way her breath catches just slightly. Her gaze drops to her lap, her hands twisting together nervously.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” she murmurs, her voice trembling just a little. “Not if you don’t mean them.”

I reach out, my fingers brushing hers, and she looks up, startled. “I mean it,” I say firmly, my eyes locked on hers.

Her lips part slightly, as if she’s about to say something, but no words come out. Instead, she leans forward, her movements tentative, and I meet her halfway, my hand sliding to her jaw as our lips touch.

The kiss is soft at first, hesitant, like we’re testing the waters. But it doesn’t stay that way for long. The moment she leans into me, her hands clutching at my shirt, something snaps. The kiss deepens, growing hotter, more desperate, and I pull her closer, my hands sliding to her waist, feeling the warmth of her body beneath the thin fabric of her dress.

She gasps against my mouth, her fingers tangling in my hair, and I take the opportunity to trail kisses down her jaw, to the sensitive skin of her neck. She tilts her head back, giving me better access, and I don’t hesitate, sucking lightly, enough to draw a soft moan from her lips.

“Nikolai,” she whispers, her voice breathless, and the sound of my name on her lips sends a rush of heat straight to my core.

I slide my hands down, gripping her hips and pulling her onto my lap. She straddles me, her dress riding up her thighs, and I run my hands up her sides, feeling every curve, every inch of her soft skin. My lips find hers again, and this time, the kiss is pure fire.

Her jacket falls to the floor, forgotten, and I let my hands roam, exploring her like I’ve wanted to for days, weeks. She’s everything I imagined and more, and I’m quickly losing control.

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