Page 8 of Ruthless Daddies

But then she speaks, breaking the tension with a voice that’s too soft, too clear. “Are you trying to scare me, Dmitri?”

The way she says my name, soft but pointed, stirs something dark and primal inside me. I smirk, letting my fingers hover just a fraction away from her waist, not touching, but close enough that she can feel the heat between us.

“Maybe I am,” I say, my voice barely a murmur.

Her gaze doesn’t waver, and she shifts slightly, tilting her head up to meet me, her breath warm against my cheek. “You’ll have to try harder, then.”

God, this woman. She has no idea what she’s asking for. I feel myself lean in, just a fraction, my hand moving closer to her waist.

“Consider this your first lesson,” I say, my voice cool again, though it takes every ounce of restraint to keep it that way. “In this house, trust doesn’t come easily. And attraction can be dangerous.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t step back. Instead, she lifts her chin, her gaze locked on mine. “Then I’ll remember that.”

I hold her gaze for a beat longer, feeling that stubborn attraction pull at me, urging me to break my own rules. But instead, I turn, stepping away before I let myself cross a line I know I can’t uncross.

“Good,” I say, my tone clipped.

I walk down the hallway, trying to shake off the image of Alice’s stubborn, unflinching gaze.

She doesn’t understand what she’s asking for. This is a world where fear isn’t just a feeling—it’s a tool, a weapon. And here she is, barely blinking as I try to show her just a sliver of that darkness.

The thought follows me as I head toward the main hall, my footsteps echoing through the quiet house. I’m nearly at the staircase when I catch sight of a familiar figure. My uncle, Alexei, is just coming through the front door, a smirk playing on his weathered face. He reeks of expensive perfume, the scent clinging to him like a calling card.

“Out late again, Uncle?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. The scent alone tells me he’s had an interesting evening.

He chuckles, his voice rough with years but laced with an amused edge. “I may be getting old, Dmitri, but some things…some things don’t change.”

“Is that so?” I ask.

“Had a nice dinner, a bit of wine, and company that was…very enthusiastic.”

I shake my head, unable to hold back a smirk. “Still got game, then.”

His grin widens, and he gives me a mock bow. “One can’t lose what one never had,” he says with a wink, patting my shoulder as he straightens. “Besides, life should have its pleasures, especially when work makes the rest so…volatile.”

We share a look. I know the feeling.

Business has been…complicated, to put it lightly. Between Vadim’s power grabs and the never-ending web of alliances and betrayals, it feels like our world is a minefield.

“Speaking of volatility,” he says, his tone dropping, “how’s our friend Vadim?”

“Still nosing around, making it clear he’s eager to expand his reach,” I reply, keeping my voice low. “He’s testing us, looking for any weakness.”

Alexei nods, his expression darkening. “Vadim’s been waiting for an opportunity since…” He pauses, his gaze flickering to me for just a beat too long, the unspoken name hanging between us.

Elena.

“He’s always been ambitious. Nothing new.”

Alexei nods, though there’s a flash of something knowing in his gaze. He was close to Elena too. Maybe he knows—or suspects—that I was the last one to see her alive, that those last moments are something I can’t erase. I push the thought away, locking it down with everything else.

“You’re restless, Dmitri,” he says, breaking the silence. “Can’t sleep?”

I give a slight nod, not willing to offer more. He’s right; sleep has been elusive lately.

“Too much to think about,” I mutter, glancing away.

He hums, crossing his arms as he studies me. “You work too hard. This world, it’ll take and take, Dmitri, until there’s nothingleft. Find something outside of it. Or at least a distraction within it.”

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