Page 87 of Ruthless Daddies

I frown. “Who?”

She gives me a look. “Oh,” I say, finally understanding. All three of them.

I sit up straighter, studying her face for any sign that this might be some kind of joke, but all I get is her usual frostiness.

“They did?” I ask, trying to keep the disbelief out of my voice.

Marta’s lips purse. “Apparently,” she mutters, turning on her heel to leave. But before she reaches the door, she pauses and glances back at me, her expression unreadable. “I’d hurry if I were you. They don’t like to be kept waiting.”

And with that, she’s gone, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.

Dinner in the greenhouse. A part of me wants to laugh at how unexpected it is, but another part—the part that’s been nursing hurt feelings for days—feels touched. They must have realized how upset I’ve been.

A smile tugs at my lips as I glance at the mirror. Maybe they’re finally trying to make it up to me. And tonight…tonight feels like the perfect time to tell them that I’m carrying their child.

The greenhouse is breathtaking. Soft lights are strung across the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the greenery. A small table is set in the center, candles flickering between plates and glasses of wine.

The three of them are already waiting—Ivan, Dmitri, and Nikolai. They look up as I step inside, and for a moment, the tension that’s been lingering between us seems to dissipate.

“Wow,” I say, taking it all in. “This is beautiful.”

Ivan stands, pulling out a chair for me. “We wanted to do something special.”

The greenhouse is stunning, the soft glow of string lights reflecting off the glass walls and bathing the plants in a warm, golden hue. A small table is set in the center, elegantly decorated with candles and fresh flowers. It’s the kind of setup that belongs in a romantic movie.

My heart swells, touched by the effort they’ve gone to. They must have realized how upset I’ve been, and this is their way of making it up to me.

“Thank you,” I say, offering Ivan a small smile as I take the seat. My eyes dart to Nikolai and Dmitri, who are already seated. Nikolai’s hands are clasped on the table, his usual charm subdued. Dmitri’s leaning back in his chair.

Something feels off.

I push the thought aside as Ivan sits across from me, pouring me a glass of wine. “We thought this would be nice,” he says.

“It’s beautiful,” I reply, glancing around the room again. “Thank you for this.”

“We thought you might need something to cheer you up,” Nikolai offers, smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You’ve all been busy,” I say, my voice light. “I figured you needed space.”

“Space isn’t the issue,” Ivan says, his tone a little too sharp before he softens it. “We’ve had a lot to handle.”

The comment feels pointed, and I glance at him, my brows knitting together. “Is that…a bad thing?”

“Not at all,” he replies quickly, though his tone is smooth in a way that sets me further on edge.

The conversation continues, but it feels stilted, like they’re holding back. They ask me questions—how I’ve been, what I’ve been up to—but their responses are short, their smiles too tight.

I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

Dinner drags on, and by the time Ivan stands and helps me from my seat, my earlier excitement has dimmed.

“Let’s get you back to your room,” he says, his hand resting lightly on my lower back as he guides me toward the door.

When we reach my door, I turn to face them, forcing a smile. “Thank you again for tonight. It was really thoughtful. Do you…want to come in?”

Ivan nods, his expression unreadable. Nikolai shifts on his feet, avoiding my gaze.

The hesitation is brief, but I see it. They exchange glances, but then Dmitri steps forward.

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