Page 31 of Bratva Daddy (Underworld Daddies #1)

After Mikhail left, Alexei unpacked the bags like it was Christmas.

Chocolate milk in the little bottles that were just the right size for small hands.

Juice boxes in every flavor—apple, grape, fruit punch.

String cheese in individual wrappers. Goldfish crackers in the rainbow colors, not just regular orange.

"Lunch time," he announced, and went to the kitchen to make magic.

He came back with a plate that would have made father faint.

Peanut butter and jelly with the crusts cut off, sliced into triangles like how Mom used to make them.

Apple slices cut into bunny shapes with the skin peeled off.

Goldfish crackers in a little bowl arranged by color.

And chocolate milk in an actual glass but a small one, one that fit perfect in my hands.

"This is the best lunch," I told him, sitting at his feet with my plate because the coffee table was still covered in my coloring supplies. "Better than fancy restaurants."

"Little girls need little foods," he said, hand back in my hair while I munched on a sandwich triangle. "Food that makes them happy, not food to impress people or to be fancy."

The sandwich tasted like being taken care of. The chocolate milk was cold and sweet and exactly right. Even the goldfish crackers tasted better than usual, probably because someone had sorted them special just for me.

By the time Tangled was ending and Rapunzel was reuniting with her real parents, my eyes felt heavy. Lunch had made me sleepy, and crying had made me tired, and being small was exhausting in a way that being big never was.

"Sleepy," I admitted, leaning against Alexei's leg, Little Alex clutched tight in my arms.

"Nap time for little girls," he said, closing his laptop without hesitation.

He carried me again, and this time I was too sleepy to even enjoy it properly. His bed was huge and soft and smelled like him. He tucked me and Alexei Junior under the covers, made sure the blanket was smooth, checked that we were comfortable.

"Sleep tight, little one," he said, kissing my forehead. "Daddy will fix everything while you rest."

"Promise?" I asked, already mostly asleep.

"Promise," he said, and because he was Daddy and Daddies didn't lie, I believed him completely.

L ittle Alex was still in my arms when I woke, fur pressed against my cheek, and for a moment I couldn't remember why I was holding a stuffed animal in Alexei's bed.

Then everything crashed back—the news report, the breakdown, sucking my thumb while calling him Daddy in a voice that belonged to someone much younger than twenty- three. The coloring books. The juice box. Being carried to bed for a nap like an actual child.

Heat flooded my face so fast it made me dizzy.

I'd completely regressed, turned into some little version of myself that needed stuffies and Disney movies and peanut butter sandwiches with the crusts cut off.

And Alexei had seen all of it, had taken care of me through it, had tucked me into bed with a kiss on the forehead.

"You're back," his voice came from the chair by the window, and I realized he'd been sitting there the whole time. Not working on his laptop or making calls, just reading a book and watching over me while I slept.

"I'm so sorry," the words tumbled out before I could stop them. "I don't know what happened. I've never—that's never happened before. Not like that."

He set his book aside with careful movements, like everything needed to be precise.

"Don't," he said firmly, standing and moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Never apologize for needing care. This is exactly what I signed up for—all of you, including the little girl who needs juice boxes and stuffies when the world gets too big. "

The words should have made me feel better, but shame still burned in my chest. "It's just—God, I actually sucked my thumb. And asked for chocolate milk. And named a stuffed wolf after you."

"Little Alex is an excellent name," he said, completely serious. "I’m honored to share it."

A surprised laugh escaped me. "You can't be okay with this. I turned into a child. Like, an actual child. That's not what you signed up for."

"Clara." His hand found mine, thumb stroking over my knuckles. "It's called age regression. It happens when stress breaks through your adult walls, when you need care so desperately that your mind provides it by returning to a simpler state. And it's beautiful."

"Beautiful?" I stared at him. "I was on the floor crying about frozen money with my thumb in my mouth."

"You trusted me enough to be that vulnerable," he corrected. "Do you understand how rare that is? You let me see you completely defenseless, let me take care of you when you couldn't take care of yourself. That's not shameful—that's the ultimate submission. The ultimate trust."

Something in my chest unclenched at his words. He really wasn't disgusted or disturbed. If anything, he looked proud, like I'd done something special instead of having a complete breakdown.

"It's never happened like that before," I admitted, fingers finding Alexei Junior's soft fur. "I mean, I've imagined it, wanted it, but actually going that small, that young . . ."

"How often have you imagined it?" he asked, and there was no judgment in the question, just curiosity.

"Since I went to college maybe? When things got bad, I'd imagine having someone who'd take care of me.

Let me be small and not have to make decisions or handle problems. Someone who'd just .

. ." I paused, searching for words. "Someone who'd let me color and watch cartoons and not think about anything important. "

"Not just a Dom, but a Daddy Dom," he supplied simply.

"Yeah," I whispered. "But I never thought it would actually happen. Never thought I'd actually slip that far into little space."

"The stress of seeing the news report triggered it," he said, analytical but gentle. "Your mind needed escape from the guilt and fear, so it provided one. Took you somewhere safe."

"The charity money though . . ." The worry tried to resurface, but he squeezed my hand.

"Is already handled. Ivan's creating documentation showing you're safe but traveling for personal reasons. The funds will be released within forty-eight hours. David Maguire will receive confirmation tomorrow morning."

I stared at him. "You actually fixed it?"

"I told you I would. When you're little, when you need care, Daddies handle the big problems so little girls don't have to worry."

The casual way he said it, like this was just our dynamic now, made something warm bloom in my chest. "We should probably talk about boundaries. About what happens next time."

"Next time?" He raised an eyebrow. "You're already planning to regress again?"

"I don't think I can control it," I admitted. "Now that it's happened once, now that my brain knows it's safe to be little with you . . . it might happen again."

"Good," he said simply. "We should set up a proper littlespace room. Somewhere that's just for you when you need to be small."

"A whole room?" The idea seemed excessive and perfect simultaneously.

"You'll need somewhere to keep your supplies. Coloring books, toys, comfort items. Somewhere decorated just for little you, where big girl problems can't intrude."

The thought of having a dedicated space to be small, to not have to be perfect adult Clara, made my eyes burn with grateful tears. "That's . . . you'd do that?"

"I'd do anything to take care of you," he said, and the sincerity in his voice destroyed me. "All versions of you. The bratty submissive who challenges my rules. The woman who runs charities and changes lives. And the little girl who needs chocolate milk and Disney movies."

"What if I get stuck?" The fear spilled out before I could stop it. "What if I regress and can't come back?"

"Then I take care of you until you do," he said simply. "That's what Daddies do. We provide safety and structure and care for as long as our littles need it. Hours, days, however long."

"You really studied this," I observed, something like wonder in my voice.

"I study everything about you," he replied. "Your needs, your fears, your desires. It's my job to know you better than you know yourself. To provide what you need before you know you need it."

"Is that why you already had little supplies? The wolf and the blanket and the coloring books?"

A slight smile crossed his face. "I may have been optimistic.

You've been calling me Daddy since day one, even sarcastically.

I suspected you might need little space eventually.

The way you seek structure, crave boundaries, need care—all signs of someone who might regress under the right circumstances. "

"Or the wrong ones," I corrected, thinking of the news report.

"Either way, I was prepared." He reached out, fingers brushing over Little Alex's fur. "Though I didn't expect you to name him after me."

"It just felt right," I said, hugging the wolf tighter. "He's protective and soft and makes me feel safe. Like you."

Something shifted in his expression, vulnerability flashing across his features before disappearing behind his usual control. "You can keep him, you know. He's yours now."

"Really?" I asked, even though I was already attached, couldn't imagine giving the wolf back.

"He's yours, baby girl," he confirmed, then added with that intensity that made my stomach flip, "Just like you're mine."

The words settled over us like a blanket, warm and encompassing.

I was his—his submissive, his baby girl, his little one, his to protect and care for and cherish.

And somehow, impossibly, this dangerous man who ran half of New York's underworld was mine too.

My Daddy, my protector, my safe place when the world got too big.

"Thank you," I whispered, meaning for everything—the wolf, the care, the acceptance of parts of me I'd never shown anyone.

"No, little one," he said, leaning down to kiss my forehead. "Thank you for trusting me with all of you."