Page 9 of Ruthless Daddies

His words hold a note of caution, one he rarely shows. I force a tight smile, giving a nonchalant shrug. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He raises an eyebrow, and for a moment, I think he might push further. But then he just nods, his smirk returning as he pats my shoulder. “Good. Just remember—life is more than this house, nephew. Don’t let it swallow you.”

With that, he turns and heads toward his quarters, leaving me alone with the echoes of his words.

I stand there for a moment, letting his advice settle, and my mind drifts back, unbidden, to the image of Alice. To her defiance, her boldness, her unexpected bravery. Maybe she’s the kind of “distraction” Alexei would encourage. And maybe that’s exactly why I need to stay away.

4

ALICE

Luka refuses to look at me. Again.

I try to catch his eye, leaning forward slightly, attempting my warmest, most encouraging smile. But his focus stays glued to his plate as he meticulously pushes his eggs into a perfect circle, pretending I’m not even here. Mila, on the other hand, is a different story. She’s all chatter, bouncing in her chair and peppering me with questions about everything from breakfast to why I have “such big eyes.”

“Luka, don’t you want to tell me about your favorite game?” I ask, hoping for even the smallest spark of interest. But he just shrugs, barely glancing up, and mumbles something under his breath that I can’t quite catch.

Mila pipes up, “He likes dinosaurs, but only the scary ones. The ones that eat people!”

“Luka!” I say with a smile, trying to coax him. “Is that true?”

This time, he doesn’t even mumble. He just frowns at his eggs and pushes them around again, as if they hold all the answers to life’s greatest mysteries. Mila giggles and takes a big bite of hertoast, crumbs scattering everywhere. She’s a handful, but at least she’s friendly.

I sigh inwardly, keeping my expression patient. I get it. I’m the new person, the stranger in their world, and trust isn’t something that comes easy for kids.

Just as I’m about to try another topic to break through Luka’s walls, I hear footsteps approaching. I glance up, and my breath catches. Nikolai.

He strides into the room like he owns it—and well, he does—but there’s something in the way he moves, an effortless, confident grace.

He’s…distractingly handsome. Even in a simple black T-shirt and dark jeans, there’s something about him that’s almost magnetic. His dark hair is tousled, as though he just rolled out of bed, but it works for him. His eyes, a striking dark brown, scan the room before landing on me, and he gives me a slow, easy smile that sends a flutter straight to my stomach.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he says.

“Hey,” I say.

“Looks like you have your hands full.”

“You can say that.” I glance between Luka and Mila who runs over to hug her uncle. He seems to be her favorite.

As if sensing my apprehensions, Nikolai steps closer to Luka, leaning over to ruffle his hair, which Luka tolerates with a quiet scowl. “Ah, don’t worry about him. He’s just shy, right, Luka?” He lowers his voice, as if sharing a secret, but loud enough for us all to hear. “But don’t let him fool you—he’s secretly a softie.”

Luka huffs, though I see a faint smile twitch at the corners of his mouth before he catches himself, glancing away quickly.

Nikolai turns his attention back to me, his gaze warm and appraising. “Alice, isn’t it?”

I nod, trying to keep my composure, though his gaze feels like it’s burning right through me. “Yes.”

“Thank you for taking on this challenge. We Morozovs don’t make things easy,” he says with a wink. “Though I’m sure you’ve figured that out already.”

I chuckle. Marta arrives, towels in hands. “Let’s go. It’s time for a shower.”

“I can take them,” I say, rising from my chair.

“There’s no need for that. I can handle it,” Marta says, her tone clipped.

There’s an edge to her voice that I can’t quite ignore, and I feel like I’ve overstepped somehow. I offer her a quick nod, feeling that prickly sensation that I’m somehow unwelcome.

She gathers the kids, herding them down the hallway, her posture straight, movements precise. I watch her leave, a hint of tension settling between my shoulders. It’s obvious she knows her way around the family and her role here—and that she doesn’t see me as an essential part of that. Yet.

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