Page 26 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

There’s so much emotion simmering between us—anger, bitterness, sadness—but we don’t speak. Not yet.

Sofiya busies herself buckling her seatbelt, her small hands fumbling with the clasp before she clicks it into place. Alyona returns with champagne for the adults and juice for Sofiya, who accepts the glass with a shy smile.

The flight is supposed to last ten hours—plenty of time for tempers to flare—but at least the seats are comfortable enough to sleep in.

As the rest of my men board and the jet begins to taxi, I take a moment to speak with Konstantin.

“What did you find out?” I ask him.

“The plane belongs to an actor,” he says. “We ran a background check—he’s legit.”

“So, there’s nothing to worry about?”

“Nothing whatsoever,” Konstantin assures me.

I nod, satisfied. “Good work.”

With that taken care of, I return to my seat across from Katya and Sofiya. I don’t know how to bridge the chasm between us, but I have to stay close. Sofiya’s trust may come naturally—it’s Katya who will be the harder battle.

Sofiya’s breathing slows, her head resting against the seat as sleep claims her. Katya immediately pulls a blanket over her, tucking it carefully around her small frame. Watching them, I feel an unexpected warmth in my chest.

“There’s a bathroom you can use to clean up,” I tell Katya, noticing the dark circles under her eyes and the pallor of her skin.

She shoots me a scathing look. “And leave her alone with you? Not a chance.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” I say, my voice rough. “We don’t need to fight. We could be a team.”

Her laugh is sharp, humorless. “A team? I guess we see things differently.”

“Clearly,” I mutter, leaning back in my seat and crossing my arms. “How are you holding up?”

She snorts. “Really? You’re seriously asking me that? I’m fine, Igor. Are you done playing the caring father?”

“It’s called being polite,” I reply with a faint smirk. “You should try it sometime.”

“Right,” she snaps. “Why don’t you spend your time with the flight attendant? I’m sure she’d love your company.”

Her jealousy is obvious, and I can’t help but grin. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” she bites out, turning her back to me. “Now leave me the fuck alone.”

She adjusts her recliner, shifting so her body curls protectively around Sofiya. Her back is stiff, her anger radiating off her in waves.

I don’t care. In fact, I enjoy riling her up. The fire in her eyes, her fierce energy—it’s intoxicating. Every argument, every pointed glare only makes me hungrier for her.

“Before you get any ideas,” I say, my voice calm but firm, “when we arrive in New York, you and Sofiya are staying with me. You’ll have your own room. But you’re always welcome to share mine if the mood strikes.”

Her shoulders stiffen, and I can practically feel her seething.

Good. Let her simmer. I’ve got all the time in the world to win this war.

“Can you just shut up? I’d love to get some sleep.”

Not ready to let her retreat, I press on. “Does Sofiya only know Russian sign language? Or does she know English too?”

Katya doesn’t even glance my way. “Both. Annette’s taught her a lot.”

Her cool, detached tone grates on my nerves. It’s infuriating how effortlessly she holds all the cards when it comes to our daughter. She knows every detail, every milestone, every little piece of Sofiya’s life—details I’ve been robbed of.