Page 73 of Ruthless Daddies

“You’re always full of surprises, Miss Parker,” he says, his tone casual but laced with something I can’t quite place.

I don’t respond, my shoulders tensing as I spread the peanut butter a little more aggressively than necessary.

“What are you making?” he asks, stepping closer.

“Something weird,” I say shortly, keeping my back to him.

There’s a long pause, and I can feel his gaze burning into the back of my neck. My hands tremble slightly as I add the final slice of bread to my sandwich.

“You shouldn’t be wandering around alone at night,” he says finally, his voice softer now.

I glance over my shoulder, forcing a small, tight smile. “I’m in the kitchen, Sergei. I think I’ll survive.”

Before he can respond, another voice cuts through the tension.

“Is that peanut butter and pickles?”

I whip my head around to see Alexei standing in the doorway, his expression amused as he takes in the scene. Sergei steps back slightly, his posture stiffening.

“Late-night snack?” Alexei asks, walking into the kitchen like he owns the place.

“Something like that,” I say, relieved by his presence.

Sergei lingers for a moment longer, his eyes flicking between me and Alexei, before muttering something under his breath and leaving the kitchen.

I exhale slowly, turning back to my sandwich.

“Thank God,” I mutter, mostly to myself.

Alexei chuckles, leaning against the counter. “He has that effect on people. But he’s trustworthy.”

“So everyone keeps telling me,” I say.

Alexei cocks his head. “Sounds like you think the opposite.”

I sigh. “No, it’s not that, it’s just that—” I stop, thinking. What exactly am I going to tell him? That Sergei might have killed Elena? It’s ridiculous. And yet…

I focus on eating my sandwich instead. The mix of flavors is bizarre but oddly satisfying, and I hum in approval.

Alexei watches me with a grin. “You know,” he says, “it’s funny. Morozov women love to eat that kind of thing.”

I duck my head, blushing. Is he implying what I think he is? Alexei is not a fool. He must have noticed. It’s not like we’re trying to be subtle. The kids haven’t caught on yet, though.

But then he says something that makes me freeze.

“Especially when they’re pregnant.”

I freeze mid-chew, the words hitting me like a truck.

Pregnant?

I swallow hard, setting the sandwich down as my mind starts racing. Pregnant? No. That’s not possible. Is it?

Alexei bids me goodnight and leaves, seeming not to notice my discomfort, and I clutch the counter, staring blankly at the half-eaten sandwich in front of me.

It’s been…what? Two and a half months since this started? Maybe a little more?

My stomach flips.

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