Page 23 of Sexting the Silverfox Daddy

Gennady

After her birthday, Cassie bloomed again, like a rose catching sunlight after a long winter.

Watching her pick up that violin, seeing the fire spark back in her eyes, filled me with a satisfaction I'd never known.

It hit deeper than crushing a rival or wiping out an enemy. My woman had found herself again.

"Gennady, can you teach me some Russian?" Cassie asked out of the blue at breakfast, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

I set down my coffee mug, leaning forward with a grin. "What's got you wanting to learn Russian all of a sudden?"

Her cheeks flushed a soft pink. "'Cause you keep calling me розочка. I wanna know what else you might say to me."

Anya clapped her hands, bouncing in her seat. "I wanna learn too! Teach me Russian, Daddy!"

I chuckled, watching the two of them, so close, like mother and daughter. "Alright, we'll start with the basics."

I stepped over to Cassie, gently tilting her chin to meet my eyes. "First, if you're ever in trouble and need help, you say: Помогите мне—'Help me.'"

"Помо…гите мне?" Cassie repeated, her tongue tripping over the syllables, cute as hell. It took everything not to kiss her right there.

"Помогите мне," I corrected patiently, smiling. "And if someone asks who you know, you say: Я знаю Геннадия Соколова—'I know Gennady Sokolov.'"

"Я знаю… ugh, that's so hard!" She scrunched her nose, looking adorably frustrated. "Why's your name gotta be so complicated?"

I laughed, a real laugh that felt good in my chest. "Геннадий. Take it slow, одна буква за раз—one letter at a time."

"Ген…на…дий?" she tried, her voice hesitant but determined.

"Perfect, моя умная девочка—my clever girl."

Anya piped up, mimicking her. "Геннадий! Геннадий! I got it!" She clapped, sticking her tongue out at Cassie, who gasped and grabbed her, tickling her sides until Anya squealed for mercy.

Watching them laugh and play, a warmth spread through me, soft and unfamiliar. These simple, happy moments were something I'd never dared dream of in my world of blood and betrayal.

I leaned close to Cassie's ear, my voice dropping low and teasing. "One more, the most important one: Я тебя люблю—I love you."

Her face went bright red. "Я… тебя… люблю?" she tried, stumbling over the words.

"Я тебя люблю," I said, brushing a kiss against the corner of her mouth. "You gotta say that to me all the time."

"Then you better say it to me too!" she shot back, pointing at me with mock sternness, but her shy smile ruined any attempt at intimidation. It just made me want to pull her closer.

"Я тебя люблю, моя розочка," I said, looking into her eyes, meaning every damn word.

She smiled, her eyes glowing with happiness, and for a moment, everything felt right.

"Boss, we found out who's behind the attempt to grab Cassie." In the top-floor office of Sokolov Industries, Dimitri's face was grim as he slid a file across my desk.

"Who?" My voice turned to ice, sharp and cold.

"Marco Moretti." He pointed to the file. "We got it out of the guys we caught. Marco's been sniffing around you for a while. When he figured out who Cassie was, he planned the kidnapping."

My fists clenched, knuckles popping. Marco. That bastard had been trying to muscle into Chicago for years, and we'd had bad blood forever. But touching my woman? That was a death sentence.

"Where is he now?" My voice was low, like a growl from the pits of hell.

"Still tracking him, but he's moving fast," Dimitri said. "Looks like he's gearing up for something big—recruiting new blood, meeting with smaller gang leaders."

War. That's what this meant. Marco was planning a goddamn war.

"Tighten security around the estate," I ordered, my tone hard. "And keep hunting Marco. He touched what's mine. He's gonna pay."

"Yes, Boss." Dimitri hesitated, then added, "One more thing. We caught wind of Ginnie Robert cozying up to Marco's crew."

Ginnie. My eyes narrowed, a spark of rage flaring. That greedy bitch, betraying me to my enemy.

"Watch her," I said coldly. "If she's working with Marco, she's a traitor. You know what we do with traitors."

After dealing with that infuriating news, exhaustion hit me—not physical, but a bone-deep weariness. I was sick of the endless fights, the constant vigilance, the life that forced me to stay on edge. But for Cassie and Anya, I had to be stronger. Colder.

I got back to the estate at eight in the morning after a brutal night.

"Sir, Cassie's practicing in the greenhouse," Aisor said, taking my coat. "Anya's in her room with her picture books."

I nodded and headed for the greenhouse, drawn by the faint sound of a violin. The melody floated through the air, soft and haunting, easing the tension in my chest before I even saw her.

I pushed open the door and stopped. Cassie stood among the roses, sunlight streaming through the glass dome, bathing her in a golden glow. She played with such focus, so lost in the music, she looked like a goddamn goddess.

All my anger, my exhaustion, my darkness—it melted away.

She didn't notice me, too wrapped up in her playing.

I slipped into a chair, closing my eyes to let her music wash over me.

She was playing Debussy's Clair de Lune, the notes soft as feathers, soothing my frayed nerves.

My shoulders loosened, my clenched fists relaxed, and the dark thoughts of revenge and war faded under her spell.

It took me back to when I was a kid, waking from nightmares to my mother's lullabies.

That sense of safety, of being wrapped in warmth—I thought I'd lost it forever.

But Cassie's music brought it back, pulling me out of my grim world and reminding me of the part of me that still craved light, love, peace.

Her notes danced in the air, my breathing slowed, and for the first time in years, I felt truly at ease.

How long had it been since I'd let go like this?

Since my mother died, I'd forgotten what calm felt like.

But Cassie, my rose, built a gentle wall with her music, keeping the danger and darkness at bay.

In that rose-scented greenhouse, surrounded by sunlight and her melody, my mind softened, my eyelids grew heavy, and I drifted into the deepest, most peaceful sleep I'd had in years.

When I woke, the greenhouse was quiet. A soft blanket was draped over me, and a glass of water sat on the table beside me. The care in those small gestures warmed me from the inside out.

I lifted the blanket, catching a faint whiff of Cassie's perfume—jasmine and lemon, light and fresh. This woman. Always finding ways to get under my skin.

I stood, heading inside to find her and Anya, when I heard laughter from the kitchen… and what sounded like an explosion?

Pushing open the door, I froze. Cassie and Anya were covered head-to-toe in flour, looking like a pair of snowmen. Flour dusted their hair, their faces, even Anya's eyelashes. The counter was a war zone of baking tools and something that might've been a cake in a past life.

Old Henry, the chef, and two maids stood in the corner, also dusted with flour, their faces a mix of resignation and amusement. They'd clearly been steamrolled by these two troublemakers.

"Mr. Sokolov!" Henry said, snapping to attention, relief in his voice.

The maids bowed, flustered. "Sir, we… we tried to stop them, but…"

"Gennady!" Cassie spun around, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "You're awake! Check out the surprise cake we made for you!"

Before I could react, she grabbed a handful of frosting and lobbed it at me. Splat. The cold cream hit my face, sliding down my cheek.

The kitchen went dead silent.

Henry and the maids shrank back, eyes wide. They knew who I was—Gennady Sokolov, the man people disappeared for crossing. A stunt like this could end badly for anyone else.

But Cassie and Anya didn't care. They burst out laughing, clutching their sides.

"Anya, look! Daddy's a snowman!" Cassie gasped, doubled over.

"His beard's got frosting!" Anya squealed, clapping her hands like a delighted bird.

Their joy, so pure and reckless, melted every ounce of my cold, hard edges. I wiped the frosting off my face, pretending to scowl. "Oh, you're in trouble now. You know what this is?"

"What?" Cassie asked, batting her eyes with fake innocence, her grin full of mischief.

"Attacking Daddy!" Anya piped up, giggling as she hid behind Cassie.

"Exactly," I said, my lips twitching as I stalked toward them. "And you know what happens to brats who mess with Daddy? They get punished."

I lunged, scooping them both up in my arms.

"Ahh! Run!" Cassie laughed, squirming.

"Daddy's gonna get us!" Anya shrieked, kicking her little legs.

They wriggled, trying to escape, but I held them tight, my heart swelling with a joy I'd never known. This chaos, this mess of flour and frosting, was worth more than any fancy dinner, any power play.

"Okay, okay, we give up!" Cassie gasped, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. "We're sorry!"

"Gonna do it again?" I asked, narrowing my eyes, playing stern.

"Totally!" Anya declared, setting Cassie off again.

I shook my head, setting them down. "You two are devils."

Turning to Henry and the maids, I softened my tone. "You guys worked hard. Take tomorrow off."

"Thank you, Boss!" they said, practically sprinting to clean up the disaster.

As I watched Cassie kneel to wipe flour off Anya's face, their easy closeness softening the air, my heart turned to mush. This was what I wanted—not the cold games of power, not the blood-soaked battles, but this. A loud, messy, laughter-filled life with my family.

Я тебя люблю, моя розочка.

I said it in my head, my heart brimming with soft, unshakable love.