Page 34 of Bratva Daddies for the Single Mom

I followed up the kick with a second punch to the man’s swollen lip, splitting it further and causing him to fall over backward.

Fyodor joined us. Between the three of us, we worked Kent over, showing no mercy in our methodical beating of the man who'd dared insult Annie and challenge Viktor’s power.

By the time we finished, Kent’s face was a swollen, bruised mess. His right knee barely held his weight, and he winced and groaned with every step.

“You do not renege on payments.” Viktor pointed at Kent’s good eye. “Pay what you owe or we will finish the job. We will seize control of your business and everything that you own.” Viktor turned away. “Ilya, take out the trash.”

“Yes, sir.” I heaved Kent over one shoulder and locked an arm around his legs to keep him from falling… for now. I wasn’t above dropping him down a few flights of stairs if time allowed.

Kent made a gurgling, wheezing sound. His arms flopped against my back, and he stopped struggling.

Fyodor stalked to the en-suite bathroom. Water gushed, and I heard him washing the blood from his hands.

Viktor eyed his bloody knuckles and flexed his fingers. “Join us when you’re done.”

I nodded and turned away. No elevator for us this time. I made quick work of the stairs, only dropping Kent once and only down a single flight. I laughed as he bounced, then threw him back into place and whistled for the driver I knew Viktor would have waiting for me.

The sleek, black car pulled into place. “Take him to his garage. Dump him next to his car.” I shoved Kent inside, stuffing his legs into the narrow space and pushing the side of his head so he flopped over into the seat. He’d live. He’d also sufferhours, even days, of excruciating pain from the blows and the minor cuts Viktor inflicted between hits. But he would heal. We knew our strength and we’d stopped before causing permanent damage.

I had better things to do with my time than babysit Kent during the drive. Annie had agreed to a date. Viktor sealed the deal earlier this morning, and Annie agreed to meet us at the mansion later tonight.

18

ANNIE

Date night. What in the seven hells had I gotten myself into? Viktor had sent a car to pick me up, and the three of them waited for me at the bottom of the marble steps. I’d almost gotten used to their suits, so the sight of them in rolled up sleeves with the first few buttons undone at the neck, casual slacks, and no shoes took my breath away. How were they so gorgeous, and what did I do to deserve this time with them?

Viktor took my hand and entwined our fingers. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” In more ways than one, but if they wanted to give me a date night, I hesitated to push for us to go straight upstairs to the sex room. Curious about what they considered a proper date, I walked alongside Viktor, took Ilya’s hand when I drew close enough, and invited Fyodor to join us with a twitch of my head. “What are we having?”

“Roast duck.” Viktor, always the one in charge, turned us toward the left when we entered the house.

The staccato of multiple feet drummed in my heart, speeding up the rhythm. “Really? Where from?” I’d never had roast duck. The meat was too expensive, and Tina had never cookedone before. She worried about doing it wrong and ruining an expensive meal. My stomach twisted at the mental reminder that I’d left her to take care of my girls again while I went out and enjoyed myself. It felt wrong in one sense, but right in another. The baby inside me deserved a chance at knowing their father. I couldn’t agree to that unless I truly knew the men around me.

“I cooked it.” Fyodor spoke from behind me. “Viktor and Ilya helped with other foods.”

“I made the pie.” Ilya kissed his fingertips and shook them at the heavens in a move I’d never expected to see from the silent man. “It is perfect. As you are. That dress is stunning.”

“Yes. You look exquisite.” Viktor held my arm up and swished me from side to side between him and Ilya. The midnight blue skirt flared out at my thighs, then fell back into place when I stopped. My three-inch heels almost put me at eye level with Viktor, but Ilya continued to loom over me. I’d have to give up the heels later, so I planned on enjoying them as long as possible.

We made our way through the mansion and out onto a covered patio. A crystalline blue pool stretched out in front of me, a hot tub to my right, and a series of waterfalls on my right fed water into the pool. A long stretch of trees blocked the far side of the yard, a white fence wrapping around the whole thing. Flowers bloomed in planters beside a row of chaise lounges, and behind the hot tub, I spotted a pergola with thick, cushioned benches and a firepit in the center. “Wow.” My mouth threatened to fall open, but I managed to catch it at the last second. “This is amazing.”

“Perhaps later you would like to swim?” Fyodor guided me toward a table with four chairs. He pulled out a chair, and Viktor and Ilya helped me to hop into the tall seat. “Or watch a movie.”

“We have our own theater,” Ilya added when he saw the question in my eyes.

“Dinner. Then I’d love to soak my feet in the hot tub.” I picked up my napkin and spread it across my lap.

Viktor removed the silver dome from a large platter in the center of the table, revealing a pristine roast duck with vegetables, a plate of rolls, and loads of side dishes I didn’t know. “Just your feet?” A single brow winged upward. “We have a suit for you. Or you can soak naked.”

“Just my feet.” I smiled to ease the tension, knotting my hand in the fabric of my dress to keep from touching my stomach and potentially revealing my secret. “Then a movie. I want to do everything, but there are only so many hours in a night.”

“And we have plenty to keep us occupied.” Fyodor sat across from me, leaving the chairs to my right and left for Viktor and Ilya.

The four of us sat in comfortable silence as Ilya carved the duck and placed sections on our plates. I itched to ask about Miles Kent but pressed my lips flat. Bringing that man’s name into our date night was guaranteed to kill the romantic evening.

Fyodor poured wine into our glasses. He paused at mine when I waved my hand over the top of my glass. “None for me.” I scrambled for an excuse they’d believe. “It makes me feel hungover. Total lightweight.” I laughed and flapped a hand toward my face. “I’ll just have water.”

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