Page 55 of Mafia Daddy

“Sleep, little one,” he says softly. “I’ve got you.”

With his heartbeat steady under my ear and the warmth of his body surrounding me, I drift off feeling safer than I ever have.

Maybe life as a Kovalev might be what I’ve been searching for all along…

17

MAXIM

Deep in the night, the apartment is wrapped in a heavy, almost sacred silence.

The world would be a lot simpler to live in if life was always like this.

I wake slowly, my body attuned even in sleep to the smallest shifts around me. The first thing I register is the warmth pressed against my side…

Milo is curled up facing me, one hand loosely fisted in the front of my t-shirt, his breathing deep and even. The faint city glow through the windows paints his cheekbones in soft silver. His hair is mussed and sticking out at all angles, and there’s a tiny, peaceful smile on his lips even in sleep.

I allow myself a quiet smile, something rare when no one is watching.

I remember falling asleep next to the boy after the bath and bedtime routine. The way he’d melted under my hands in the tub, the soft “Thank you, Daddy” that had slipped from his lips like the most natural thing in the world.

For a man who has spent his life surrounded by violence and calculated risk, these small, tender moments feel almost stolen…

Maybe even dangerous in their sweetness.

Carefully, so as not to wake the sweet boy, I slide out of bed. My bare feet are silent on the hardwood as I walk into the living area. The apartment feels different at this hour… vast, shadowed, entirely mine.

I pour myself a measure of vodka from the decanter on the sideboard, the liquid glinting like liquid ice in the low light. I don’t turn on any lamps. I prefer the darkness when my mind needs to work.

The situation with Lentini sits heavy in my chest like a stone.

I know they will come for Milo if war breaks out. Paolo made that threat explicit. And now I’m almost certain it was one of his men watching us in the park during that kiss.

The timing was too perfect.

The feeling too targeted.

Perhaps it was Lentini’s plan all along to send Milo into my life, let him worm his way under my skin, and then use him as leverage when the real negotiations began. Make the Russian Pakhan fall for the Italian boy, then threaten to take him away unless I bend the knee to the cartel.

The thought makes my grip tighten on the glass until the crystal creaks.

I finish the vodka in one smooth swallow, the burn grounding me. Emotions have no place in strategy, but this is more than strategy now. Milo has become something I didn’t plan for… something I’m not willing to lose.

I pull out my phone and send a quick encrypted message to Kobek:

MAXIM: Arrange a meeting with the senior generals tomorrow morning. First thing. My office. We need to prepare for the possibility of open conflict with the Leones. Bring everything we have on cartel movements and Lentini loyalties.

His reply is fast, even at this hour.

KOBEK: Done. I’ll have them there at 7 a.m. Need anything else?

I type back quickly.

MAXIM: Double the watch on the apartment. And run a deeper check on any Lentini loyalists who might have been unhappy with Paolo’s original truce. I want names by morning.

I set the empty glass down and am about to head back to bed when I feel it… small, warm hands sliding around my waist from behind. I tense instinctively, years of training kicking in, but then I recognize his touch.

Milo.