Page 74 of Mafia Daddy

“Like I promised, she can live out her life back in Italy in peace now,” Maxim says. “You can visit whenever you like, private jet of course.”

I smile. It’s going to take time to repair my relationship with my mother. But my Daddy is ready and willing to help, and I love him for it.

“So ruthless, but so kind too,” I say, sighing dreamily.

Maxim nods, eyes steady on mine. “This is the life I live, Milo. Betrayal is currency. Loyalty is rare. All I can do is act with honor and let other people choose what kind of man they want to be. Sometimes that choice ends with blood on the rooftop. Sometimes it doesn’t.”

My Daddy pauses, then cups my face with both hands, voice dropping into that low, serious register that always makes my stomach flutter.

“I meant what I said last night when we got back,” Maxim says. “If you want your freedom, it’s yours. No strings. No debts. I’ll set you up anywhere you want… money, protection, a new life far from all of this. You don’t have to stay in my world. You don’t have to stay with me.”

The offer hangs between us, generous and terrifying all at once.

I look into those icy blue eyes that have seen so much darkness and still look at me like I’m made of starlight. I think about the boy I was before—partying, dropping out of Harvard, hiding my Little side behind sass and designer clothes.

Then I think about the young man I am now.

The one who stood on a rooftop and ended a monster.

The one who feels safest in the arms of a true Bratva Pakhan.

I shake my head slowly.

“No,” I whisper. “I don’t want freedom. I want you. I want to be your boy forever. Your little one. Your malysh. I want the rules and the spankings and the chess games and the way you hold me after the nightmares. I want all of it. Forever.”

Something raw and powerful flashes across Maxim’s face. He pulls me in for another kiss, slower this time, full of promise and possession and love so deep it steals my breath.

“Then forever is what you’ll have,” Maxim says against my lips. “You are mine, Milo Kovalev. And I am yours. No more deals. No more truces. Just us.”

I smile through happy tears and rest my head on his shoulder, tracing the tattoos on his neck…

Доверие. Вера. Преданность.

Trust. Faith. Loyalty.

The words feel like they were always meant for this moment. For us.

After a long, perfect silence, I pull back and glance at the chessboard with a mischievous glint in my eye.

“I challenge you to a game,” I declare, voice turning playful. “But with new rules. Every time a piece gets taken… the loser gets one hard spank from the winner. Right here, right now. On naked butts too!”

Maxim’s eyebrows shoot up. A deep, genuine laugh rumbles out of him, the sound I love most in the entire world.

“You’re getting bold, little boy.”

“Very bold,” I tease, wiggling on his lap. “Game on, Daddy?”

His eyes darken with heat and amusement. He reaches over, resets the board with quick, efficient movements, then settles me more firmly on his thighs.

“Game on,” he growls, nipping at my bottom lip. “But don’t cry when your pretty ass is red and sore before we even reach the middlegame.”

I grin, already buzzing with excitement and love and the delicious thrill of what’s to come. I make my first move—pawn to e4—then lean in and kiss him again, soft and sweet.

“Bring it, Pakhan.”

We play like that for the next hour, the city waking up around us, sunlight warming our skin. Every captured piece earns a sharp, stinging slap that makes me squeal and giggle and melt all at once.

Maxim’s handprints bloom pink across my bare bottom while I manage to take two of his knights and a bishop, delivering my own enthusiastic smacks that make him chuckle low and dangerous as his big, strong buttocks redden just a shade.