Page 46 of Ruthless Daddies

Within minutes, the kids are in their gum boots, gloves pulled snugly over their small hands, and Alexei is showing them how to dig small holes for the saplings. The first few tries are clumsy, their tiny shovels barely scraping the surface, but soon they’re giggling as they work, the garden filling with their laughter.

“You’re natural gardeners,” Alexei says, his voice filled with pride. “I might have to hire you permanently.”

Mila beams, dirt smudged across her cheek. “I’m good at this!”

“You’re better than good,” I add, brushing a strand of hair from her face and leaving a streak of dirt in its place. She giggles, swiping at her nose and only managing to spread the mess.

Alexei turns to me, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles. “You’re not off the hook, you know. Grab a spade.”

I laugh, slipping on a pair of gloves and grabbing a spade from the ground. “All right, but don’t blame me if I accidentally plant something upside down.”

“You’d be surprised how forgiving plants are,” Alexei replies.

“You’re good with them,” I say, glancing at him as I pat soil around a sapling. “Have you always been this patient?”

Alexei chuckles, shaking his head. “Not always. But life has a way of teaching you patience, especially when you grow up in a family like mine.”

I pause, curious. “You mean Ivan, Dmitri, and Nikolai?”

“And their father,” he says, his tone softening. “He was my older brother. A difficult man, but fair. He raised me more than anyone else did.”

I glance over at Luka and Mila as they laugh together, their hands coated in dirt. “Did you help raise Ivan and the others too?” I ask.

Alexei nods, his expression softening. “To an extent. Their father, my brother, was a…complicated man. He had high expectations, and they had to grow up fast. But when I was around, I tried to balance things out. Give them a little bit of normal.”

“It sounds like he was a big influence on all of you—Ivan, Nikolai, Dmitri.”

“He was,” Alexei agrees, his tone measured. “He taught us what it means to protect what’s ours.”

I glance at him, trying to gauge how far I can go. “And your family—where did you come from originally? Did you all grow up here in New York?”

Alexei chuckles softly, brushing dirt from his pants as he stands. “You’re very curious, Alice,” he says.

I smile, shrugging as I stand with him. “I can’t help it. You’re all so…fascinating. Mysterious, even.”

“Mystery has its uses,” he replies, his tone teasing but evasive.

I tilt my head, studying him. “So, no hints? No stories about the great Morozov legacy?”

Alexei’s smile widens slightly, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Our history isn’t as interesting as you might think,” he says, turning to check on the kids. “We came here like so many others, looking for a better life. And we made one.”

The simplicity of his answer feels deliberate, like a door being closed just as I’m about to peer inside.

“You’re very good at dodging questions, you know that?”

Alexei laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “And you’re very good at asking them. But some things are better left where they are.”

“Why?” I ask, unable to stop myself.

He turns to look at me. “Because knowing too much can change the way you see things. And sometimes, it’s better not to see everything.”

18

IVAN

The footage plays in a loop on the monitor, grainy but clear enough to see everything that matters. Alice, walking down the hallway, her hips swaying as she turns her head, glancing over her shoulder. Nikolai and Dmitri follow her like this is the most natural thing in the world. They disappear into the same room. Her room.

My chest tightens as the time stamp at the bottom ticks by, hour after hour. None of them leave.

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