Page 69 of Mafia Daddy

MILO

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I ask.

“As sure as anything, boy,” Maxim replies with a calm authority.

The underground parking lot beneath the department store is dim and cavernous, the kind of place that feels like it’s holding its breath.

Maxim guides the black SUV down the ramp with calm precision, the tires whispering over concrete. My heart is still hammering from the drive, from the blood on my clothes, from the memory of Kobek’s pale face in the rearview mirror.

I clutch the seatbelt like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.

A message flashes up on Maxim’s phone… it’s Kobek. He’s out of surgery and is going to be okay.

“I told you,” Maxim replies. “My man is built of stern material. He’ll rest and recuperate then be as good as new.”

Maxim then parks in a shadowed corner near a service door, kills the engine, and for a second the silence wraps around us like a heavy blanket. I turn to him before I can think better of it.

My hands find his face—that sharp jaw, the faint scrape of stubble—and I pull him into a kiss that’s messy and desperate and real. Not the heated kind we’ve shared in his bed or on the rug, but something deeper. Something that says…

I’m terrified but you’re mine and I need you to know it.

Maxim’s mouth meets mine with the same hunger. One of his big hands slides into my hair, gripping just tight enough to ground me, while the other rests on my thigh like he’s afraid I might vanish. For a few precious heartbeats the world narrows to the taste of him and the steady thud of his pulse under my palm.

When we break apart, his forehead rests against mine. His voice is low, rough. “malysh… you’re shaking. Iyou saw the message, Kobek will be fine.”

“I know, it’s not that. It’s… I almost lost you before I even really had you,” I whisper. Tears prick at my eyes, but I blink them back. “Don’t you dare leave me now, Daddy.”

Maxim’s thumb brushes my cheek, gentle in a way that makes my chest ache. “I’m not going anywhere. But we have no time to waste. The others are waiting upstairs. We need to get you safe.”

I nod, even though every instinct screams at me to stay right here in this moment. He kisses me once more—quick, fierce—then we’re moving.

But the second my Converse hit the concrete, the illusion of safety shatters.

Screeching tires echo through the garage like a scream. I whip around just in time to see a line of blacked-out SUVs barrel through the entrance barrier in a explosion of metal and glass.

Sparks fly.

The barrier arm flies off like a broken toy.

My stomach drops straight through the floor.

“Shit,” Maxim hisses, already shoving me behind him. “They must have compromised the location. Someone talked. Or they tracked the car. Move!”

We run.

My legs burn as we sprint across the open space toward the goods elevator at the far end. Bullets ping off concrete pillars behind us.

I don’t look back—I can’t—but I hear the SUVs doors flying open, boots hitting the ground, shouts in Italian and English cutting through the chaos.

Maxim’s hand is locked around mine, pulling me faster. We skid around a concrete support and reach the heavy freight elevator. I slam my palm on the call button. The doors groan open agonizingly slow.

“Get in,” Maxim orders. “Fucking get in!”

I scramble inside, chest heaving. The metal walls feel cold against my back. Maxim stands in the doorway, gun already in his hand, eyes scanning the garage like a predator measuring prey.

“Maxim, come on!” I reach for him, panic clawing up my throat. “We can both make it!”

But my Daddy turns to me, and the look in his eyes stops me cold. That calm, absolute authority. The one that makes my knees weak even when the world is exploding around us.