Page 22 of Mafia Daddy

Milo is pressed against the inside of his bedroom door, back to the wood, breathing fast. In his hands is a sleek black phone—definitely not his.

I watch as he types furiously, thumbs flying across the screen.

Rage surges through me, hot and immediate.

I stand so quickly the chair scrapes loudly against the floor. Michael’s eyebrows lift.

“Problem?”

“Handle the meeting yourself,” I say, voice low and clipped. “I need to return to the apartment. Immediately.”

Michael’s smile turns sharp, almost amused. “Give him hell, Pakhan.”

I don’t reply. I’m already moving toward the door, coat in hand, pulse pounding with fury and something darker… anticipation.

The walk back feels endless even though I’m going as fast as I can without drawing any unwarranted attention to myself.

I can feel myself building up a sweat as the muggy inner city heat creeps up around me. Or maybe it’s just the thought that the boy has somehow pulled the woold over Yuri’s eyes for long enough to snatch his phone. And it must be his phone. There is no way that Milo snuck in another handset, it’s just not possible.

By the time the private elevator opens into the apartment, my jaw is locked tight enough to crack teeth.

Yuri is in the living area, laughing at something on the big screen, karaoke mics still out. The moment he sees my face he freezes.

“Uncle Maxim⁠—”

“Out,” I snap. “Now. I will deal with you later. And if you’re lucky I’ll give you your phone back.”

“Oh crap,” Yuri says, his hands panicked as they tap his trouser pockets. “Uncle…”

“Out! Now!” I roar.

Yuri doesn’t argue or hesitate for even a single moment. He grabs his jacket and practically runs for the door, the click of it shutting behind him echoing through the space.

I stalk down the corridor toward Milo’s room.

My hand closes around the knob.

I don’t knock…

The door swings open.

Milo startles violently, spinning around. The stolen phone is still clutched in his hands. His eyes go wide with shock, then fear, then that familiar flash of defiance.

“Maxim…”

“Give me the phone.” My voice is deadly calm.

He hesitates half a second too long. I cross the room in two strides, close my fingers around his wrist, and pry the device from his grip. I don’t even look at the screen. That can wait.

“You were told the rules,” I say quietly. “You were told there would be consequences.”

Before he can protest, I sit on the edge of his bed and pull Milo down with me. He struggles, but I am of course stronger and far more determined. In one smooth motion I flip the boy face-down across my lap, his hips draped over my thighs, legs kicking uselessly.

“Get off me!” he snarls, twisting.

I hook one arm around his waist to pin him in place. My other hand yanks Milo’s lounge shorts and briefs down in one rough motion, baring the smooth, perfect curve of his ass to the cool air of the room.

The sight alone… soft olive skin, the faint tan lines, the way his cheeks clench in anticipation… well it makes my cock harden all the way despite my fury.