Page 82 of Ruthless Daddies

“Thank you, for saving me,” I say.

Alexei’s eyes soften. I see so much of my father in him. “We Morozovs stick together. That’s how we defeat them.”

“You’re right,” I say, looking in the direction where the assailants came in. “Now it’s time to send a message of our own.”

31

ALICE

Mila and Luka tumble onto my lap, their small hands clutching mine as they jockey for the best spot. Luka wins, curling up on my left side, while Mila nestles into my right. Their giggles are infectious, and for a moment, I forget my troubling thoughts.

“You two are getting too big for this,” I tease, though I hold them tighter.

“We’re not that big!” Mila protests, looking up at me with her big, curious eyes.

Luka snorts, clearly enjoying the idea. “I’m almost big enough to beat Dmitri at arm wrestling!”

I laugh softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from Luka’s forehead. “I’m sure Dmitri is shaking in his boots.”

The brothers have been so wrapped up in their business lately that they barely have time for anything else. It leaves me here, in the in-between spaces, trying to navigate my own chaos. Marta hasn’t told them yet—I’m almost certain of that. But the way hereyes burn into me every time I walk past makes my stomach twist.

How long before she tells them?

I stroke Luka’s hair absentmindedly as my thoughts spiral. I haven’t even figured out how I’m going to tell them. Hell, I haven’t fully wrapped my head around it myself. Pregnant.

“Are you sad?” Luka’s small voice breaks through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.

I blink down at him, startled. “What?”

“You look sad,” he says, his big eyes peering up at me, filled with an innocent concern that tugs at my heart.

Mila shifts beside me, turning her head to study my face. “You do,” she agrees softly, her little brow furrowing.

“No, I’m not sad,” I say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just thinking.”

“Don’t be sad. It makes me sad,” Mila says.

“I’m not,” I insist. “How can I be sad when I’m talking to you?”

Luka gives me a toothy smile. We’ve come so far in a span of a few months.

Mila glances at my belly. “I like how you are now.”

I freeze. Does she know? Did Marta tell her anything? God.

“What do you mean?” I ask her.

She shrugs. “You’re special. To me. To Uncle Dmitri. To Uncle Niki, and to Dad.”

I blush, ducking my head. The children aren’t aware of the arrangement. I wonder what they’ll think if they find out about my involvement with their Dad and uncles. They’re too young to understand it, but with the baby’s arrival, it might be important to tell them eventually.

I hug them tighter.

It’s just us—Luka, Mila, and me. Safe.

Until the knock at the door.

It swings open, and Sergei steps inside, his frame filling the doorway. His presence shifts the air immediately. Tense. Unsettling.

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