Page 35 of Punish Me, Daddy (Boston Kings #8)

My father didn’t say anything. He just stared at me like he was seeing me for the first time. Maybe he was, because I wasn’t fucking twelve anymore, running wild with too much ambition and not enough fear or supervision. Or love.

I was a grown woman and I was done being managed.

I sank back into the chair and crossed my legs slowly, smoothing my dress down, pretending my hands weren’t shaking.

“So.” I looked around the table. “Now that we’re all done with the dramatics, what’s the plan?”

Maxim watched me, his face unreadable.

Dad leaned back. “So, what do you suggest we do, Sloane? Threaten Stillwell? Send a message? Maybe have a chat with the wrong end of a gun?”

“Are you being sarcastic?” I asked, raising a brow in annoyance.

He sighed. “We don’t play politics like that, not publicly. If we retaliate with violence, it’s going to be a bloodbath. I’m trying to keep the feds out of this.”

“Then don’t kill him,” I said. “Outmaneuver him.”

Nikolai raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“Start where he’s weakest,” I said, standing up and pacing now.

“He’s got donors involved with illegal underground fighting and gambling?

We flip one. He’s got press? We bury him in bad coverage.

Leak something he’s tied to, maybe one of Dalton’s shady offshore accounts.

You,” I pointed at my father. “Hit the political side. Rally your base. Secure your media people. Build your defense.”

Then I turned to Nikolai.

“And you check your connections. You know who to lean on. You know where the bodies are buried, metaphorically or otherwise.”

He smiled. I wasn’t done.

“If you really want to hurt him, don’t threaten him. Undermine him. Make him look weak. Make his people stop trusting him. Make them wonder if he’s got the stomach for a fight at all, or the balls to be the mayor of Boston.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Aleksei let out a low whistle. “Well, damn. You are a Morozov after all.”

I glanced at my father. He was watching me like he didn’t know whether to be proud of me or horrified. Maybe both.

Good .

For a moment, no one spoke.

Maxim leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching me like I’d just said something in a language he didn’t realize I spoke.

Ivan was tapping the rim of his glass thoughtfully, his brows drawn down, analyzing my words like he was decoding them.

Aleksei just looked smug, like he knew I had it in me and was pleased to be proven right.

And Nikolai?

He wasn’t smiling anymore, but he didn’t look away either. He was watching me with that same quiet heat I’d seen behind his eyes before, but this time, it wasn’t about control.

It was filled with pride.

Finally, Maxim broke the silence.

“If we’re going to hit Stillwell politically, we’ll need dirt. Verified. Traceable, but not to us. Aleksei?”

Aleksei lifted a shoulder. “I know a few art collectors with connections to some of his major donors. I can start poking around. Social reputations are fragile. A whisper about money laundering or bad taste in mistresses and we’ll watch the funding dry up.”

Maxim nodded once. “Do it.”

“Ivan?” Nikolai said.

Ivan’s fingers danced over the screen of his tablet.

“I’ll trace the funds tied to Stillwell’s campaign. If there’s offshore movement—or any undisclosed donors—we can leak it. Quietly. We’ll feed it through a few channels. Keep it from coming back to us.”

Maxim turned to my father now.

“Charlie, you’re the public piece of this. You’ll need to rally your party. Push back, but not defensively. Control the narrative. You’re not the father of a criminal. You’re a leader with the strength to handle pressure and a little bit of bad press from the opposition.”

My father gave a slow nod. “I’ll reach out to a few friendly voices in the press. We plant a story about my unwavering leadership. I’ll show up to a few photo ops with old community partners. Put a little shine back on the record.”

“You’re good at shine,” I muttered under my breath.

He gave me side-eye. I grinned.

“Sergei?” Maxim asked finally, turning to the brother who’d barely spoken.

Sergei glanced toward me, then back at Maxim.

“I’ll monitor movement. Stillwell has allies in Boston PD. If they’re thinking about pressing charges or opening a file on her, I’ll know before the ink hits paper.”

“If they come,” I said quietly, “we’ll handle it.”

Nikolai turned to me. His voice was deep and decisive. “I’ll handle it.”

“I want a seat at this table,” I said, straightening my spine. “Not because I’m your problem. Because I’m part of the solution. You want to win this? Then don’t keep me on the sidelines.”

Nikolai’s eyes narrowed in my direction.

“And if it gets dangerous?” he asked.

I smiled.

“It already is,” I countered.

Maxim leaned forward, drumming his fingers on the table.

“That’s the play, then,” he said. “We undermine Stillwell quietly. No blood. No headlines. We move like professionals.”

Charlie nodded, but the thin line of his mouth hadn’t eased. “Just make sure she’s kept out of it going forward.”

I lifted my chin. “Kept out?”

“She’s in it now, whether we like it or not,” Nikolai said before I could speak. His voice was low, treacherous in its calm. “This isn’t about saving face anymore. It’s about protecting what’s mine.”

Charlie turned his head slowly. “You’re saying she’s yours now?”

Nikolai didn’t blink. “She was mine from the first moment I laid eyes on her.”

My breath caught.

No one challenged him.

Not Maxim, who simply took a sip of his drink. Not Sergei, who stared at the table like he’d already done the math. Not Ivan, who smirked faintly at the corner of his screen. Not Aleksei, who raised a glass and murmured, “To family.”

My father looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. He leaned back, exhaled, and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Just keep her from blowing up my career,” he muttered. “And try not to let her burn the city down either.”

“No promises,” I said, reaching for my vodka.

They all looked at me.

I just smiled.

Maxim stood, and the others followed. The meeting was over.

I lingered for just a second longer, letting them file out one by one until it was just me and Nikolai. He was watching me with that unreadable gaze, and for once, I didn’t try to decipher it.

“I’m proud of you, Sloane.”

His praise felt good, better than good, and I took a deep breath, just standing there. Silent. Thoughtful.

Maybe for the first time, I didn’t feel like a pawn on someone else’s board. Maybe this time, I was something more. Maybe even a queen.

The look in his eyes said he knew it too.

He reached out, brushed his fingers lightly against my jaw, and said nothing. He didn’t have to.

Whatever came next, we were in it together.