Page 16 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

My chest tightens, the sight of Sofiya hitting me like a punch to the gut. She has no idea the chaos swirling just out of reach. No idea her father is lurking like a storm on the horizon, threatening to upend the safe little world I’ve created for us.

When Sofiya sees me, she immediately slides off the swing and bolts toward me, her little legs carrying her as fast as they can. I drop to one knee and open my arms, catching her as she crashes into my chest.

I hug her tightly, burying my face in her soft curls. Her warmth, her scent—everything about her grounds me. God, I needed this. I didn’t even realize how much until now.

Annette walks over, her face lined with concern. “Katya, is everything alright?” she asks, her voice gentle but probing.

I nod, standing up as I take Sofiya’s small hand in mine. “Yes, but I need to take her home now. It’s urgent,” I say, forcing a smile. “Take the rest of the afternoon off, okay?”

Annette nods, her concern evident but unspoken. “Of course.”

I grab Sofiya’s backpack with one hand and lead her toward the park’s exit with the other. Just having her by my side calms me, though not entirely. Once we’re home, I’ll figure out my next move.

My thoughts spiral as I walk. Igor isn’t like other men. He’s Bratva. And Bratva men don’t exactly have reputations for being stable or reliable. They fight. They kill. They destroy everything they touch.

But maybe, just maybe, there’s something inside him that’s untouched by the darkness. Maybe there’s some part of him that can see reason, that will let us go.

I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t notice the tall figure leaning against my car until it’s too late.

Igor.

He straightens when he sees me, his jacket unbuttoned and his hands casually tucked into his pockets. A breeze ruffles his dark hair, and for a fleeting second, my fingers itch to smooth it back into place.

“Hello, ladies,” he greets us, his smile slow and deliberate.

Damn him. Why does he have to look so good?

Sofiya looks up at me, her little face curious but uncertain. I instinctively squeeze her hand tighter, stepping in front of her like a shield.

“What are you doing here, Igor?” I ask, my voice sharp, trying to mask the tremor of nerves underneath.

He shrugs, his nonchalance infuriating. “I warned you, Katya. I’m not leaving Russia yet.” His dark eyes flick down to Sofiya, and his smile widens. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

I grit my teeth as Sofiya looks between us, picking up on the tension even if she doesn’t understand the source.

“Let’s talk in private,” I hiss, my voice low but firm.

Without waiting for his response, I open the car door for Sofiya. She climbs into her seat, and I shut the door before whirling back to face Igor.

“Don’t youdarecome anywhere near her again,” I warn, my voice a venomous whisper.

Igor arches an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Save your empty threats. I’m here now, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Just because you fucked me once doesn’t mean?—”

“Twice,” he interrupts.

“What?”

“I fucked you twice,” he says with infuriating ease, as if we’re talking about the weather. “And both times were memorable.”

My face burns with equal parts shame and fury. “Fine. Once, twice—whatever. Let’s not forget the countless women you’ve been with since then.”

He chuckles softly, the sound low and mocking. “What about you, hmm?” He takes a step closer, his presence as suffocating as it is magnetic. “That fat guy at the courthouse—your boyfriend? You two looked cozy.”

“Fuck off,” I snap, my voice shaking with anger. “My personal life isnoneof your business.”

“You’re wrong about that,” he counters, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You’re the mother of my child. From themoment you gave birth, your life becamemybusiness. Whether you like it or not,volchitsa, you’re mine.”