Page 58 of Watch Me, Daddy

“I’ve seen the footage, Aidan. I know he hit her,” Maxim murmured, his low raspy voice stealing the room.

“What would you have me do?” I asked him directly.

“I would have you do whatever it takes to protect my daughter,” he replied.

I had to admit, the idea of snuffing out Anton’s life with my own hands gave me a ridiculous amount of joy. The image of him backhanding my girl played over and over in my mind on repeat, making me see red on almost a daily basis. It killed me that he still breathed and walked this earth as though he owned it.

It would be awfully satisfying to end him.

The air in the room was thick with an almost tangible tension, each person around the table holding onto their thoughts like prized secrets. As I sat there, my fingers drumming against the arm of my chair, I could feel the weight of their gazes, scrutinizing and expectant.

Truthfully, there wasn’t a decision to be made. In my mind, it was already done.

I tipped my glass and swallowed down the rest of my whiskey in one large gulp before slamming it back down on the table.

“Then let’s see it done. I’ll kill the bastard myself,” I vowed.

“Good man,” Maxim replied, lifting his glass of vodka and downing it.

CHAPTER17

Two weeks later…

Aidan

Anton Kozlov was going to die tonight.

I knew where he was going to be, and I was going to take him out.

The very thought of Anton Kozlov sent a surge of adrenaline and fury coursing through my veins. He’d laid his hands on my girl, and I vowed to make him pay in ways he couldn’t fathom.

In my dimly lit study, I leaned against the back of my oversized leather chair, my fingers curling into fists as I watched him climb into his black Aston Martin on my computer screen. Through a carefully spun web of surveillance, I’d followed Anton’s every move, every shadow he cast, my focus unwavering. I knew what he had for breakfast. I knew the faces of each and every one of his guards, and I knew every slimy business that he had his hands in, from the people he paid off at the docks to the sleazy restaurants he provided ‘protection’ for.

I’d made it my mission to learneverythingabout him.

Born in the heart of Saint Petersburg, Anton had grown up amidst its unforgiving streets, learning early on that survival required both cunning, ruthlessness, and a strong fist. He had carved a reputation for himself as a seedy and calculating criminal, a skilled fighter, and a cunning manipulator. He had his fingers dipped deep into a myriad of illegal enterprises that ranged from extortion to black market dealings to the visceral world of underground fighting rings.

To make matters worse, Anton’s prowess in hand-to-hand combat was unrivaled. He had honed his skills through years of brutal fights, the scars on his body a testament to his brutality and ruthlessness.

I wasn’t afraid of a man like him.

Anton had long harbored ambitions that extended beyond the formidable grasp of his father, Roman, the reigning kingpin of the Kozlov family bratva. With a mind as sharp as a blade and a heart hardened by years of manipulation, Anton had deftly wielded his influence within the shadowy echelons of the criminal underworld to carve a place for himself as king.

His subtle yet calculated maneuvers managed to chip away at his father’s authority, sowing seeds of dissent and doubt among loyalists who had long been held captive by Roman’s iron grip.

It had gotten bad enough that even his little sister had recognized that the tension Anton had built would eventually push the family to the brink of upheaval, that it was simply a matter of time before it all came to a head and exploded in my city.

I brushed my thumb along the line of my jaw, setting my mouth in a firm line as I thought about what I needed to do.

Irina walked into my office and stood beside me, a mixture of apprehension and determination in her eyes. I wanted nothing more than to comfort her, to stay here and hold her the rest of the night, but it was my duty to protect her and see this through.

“Aidan, be careful,” she implored softly, her hand reaching out to touch mine. The mere brush of her fingers sent a jolt of electricity surging through me.

“You have nothing to worry about, princess,” I managed a tight smile, but my voice was husky with suppressed emotions.

With the weight of impending confrontation hanging heavily in the air, I pulled Irina into a sweet yet achingly intense kiss. Her lips, soft and yielding, melded perfectly with mine, the touch of her breath against my skin a bittersweet reminder of what was at stake.

In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still, and I poured every ounce of my longing and determination into that kiss, silently promising her that I would return, victorious and unscathed, to hold her once again in my arms. It was a silent vow, a whispered reassurance that passed between us as our lips parted, and with a lingering gaze that spoke of promises kept and love unfaltering, I reluctantly left her side. Her fingers held mine for a long moment before she reluctantly let them go. I watched them fall to her side and lifted my gaze to meet hers.

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