Mafia Prince’s Secret Baby (New York Bratva)

31. Igor

31

IGOR

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I meet Nikolai’s gaze head-on. His gray eyes are like polished steel—cold, sharp, and unyielding. I hate that I’m here and need this man’s help, but hate won’t solve my problem. And right now, the only thing that matters is Katya and Sofiya.

“There was an attack,” I say plainly. “Someone threw aerial fireworks into my bedroom last night. Could’ve burned the whole place to the ground if we hadn’t acted fast.”

Nikolai’s expression doesn’t change. He doesn’t so much as blink. He’s listening, but there’s no telling what he’s thinking. His fingers curl around the rim of his vodka glass. The wolf, lying in wait.

Aleks shifts beside me, but he keeps quiet, letting me take the lead. Konstantin sits perfectly still, his hands clasped loosely in front of him, his watchful eyes never leaving Nikolai.

“That’s bold,” Nikolai finally offers, his tone clipped. “And stupid.”

“Agreed,” I reply. “Whoever did it wasn’t trying to kill us. This was a warning. But I don’t have the luxury of waiting around to see what comes next. My family is at risk. I need to find out who’s behind this—fast.”

Nikolai leans back in his chair, swirling the vodka in his glass as he studies me. The slight smile playing on his lips isn’t one of amusement—it’s calculated, just like the rest of him. “And you’re here because…?”

“Because I need your resources,” I say, refusing to sugarcoat it. “You’ve got eyes and ears everywhere. People who hear things. People who know things. I don’t have time to run down every lead myself, not when the Colombians are breathing down our neck and somebody is clearly trying to make a move. I need you to cut through the noise.”

His silver-gray eyes flicker, just barely, but it’s enough to tell me I’ve hit the mark. Nikolai knows how valuable his network is—and he knows I know it, too.

“And why should I help you?” he asks, deceptively smooth. “You and I don’t exactly have a history of goodwill.”

“This isn’t about goodwill,” I reply, hardening. “It’s about family. Katya is your sister. Sofiya is your niece. This isn’t just my fight—it’s yours, too. Or have you forgotten that?”

The room goes still, the air charged with an invisible tension. Nikolai’s smile vanishes, replaced by a glint in his eyes. Behind him, Ivan shifts, his massive frame stiffening as if he’s preparing to intervene. Aleks and Konstantin remain motionless, but I can feel the weight of their attention, their readiness to back me up if this conversation goes sideways.

For a moment, Nikolai doesn’t say anything. He just watches me, his gaze piercing, like he’s trying to decide whether I’m worth the trouble. Then, slowly, he sets his glass down on the table and leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, mirroring my posture.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he says quietly. “But I want you to understand something, Igor. My loyalty to my sister and niece doesn’t extend to you. I’ll help because of them—not because you asked.”

“Fine,” I reply, my jaw tight. “As long as they’re safe, I don’t give a damn about your reasons.”

“Good,” Nikolai says, his sharp smile returning. “Because if I do this, you’ll owe me. And I don’t give second chances, Sokolov. Don’t make me regret this.”

I don’t flinch under his gaze, even though I can feel the weight of his words pressing down on me. I nod once, acknowledging the terms. Nikolai isn’t doing this out of the goodness of his heart—he’s making a calculated move, and I’d be a fool to think otherwise. But for Katya and Sofiya, I’ll swallow my pride. I’ll play his game, even if it means walking away with more chains than I came in with.

Nikolai gestures to Ivan, who steps forward and hands him a sleek black tablet. He taps the screen a few times before sliding it across the table toward me. “Start from the beginning,” he says. “Everything you know about the attack. No detail is too small.”

I glance at Aleks, who nods subtly, and then at Konstantin, who remains impassive but alert. Taking the tablet, I start talking, laying out the events of last night in meticulous detail. The fireworks. The smoke. The shattered window. The burned remains we found. Every possibility I’ve considered and every dead end I’ve hit.

As I speak, Nikolai listens, his expression unreadable. He asks questions here and there, cutting straight to the point with each one. By the time I finish, the room feels heavier, the reality of the situation settling over all of us like a storm cloud.

“It’s not the Colombians,” I conclude. “Aleks already confirmed that with our contacts. This feels… different. More personal.”

Nikolai steeples his fingers, leaning back in his chair as he considers my words. “You said there was debris left behind from the fireworks?”

Aleks reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the cylindrical tube he found, placing it on the table. “We were hoping your chemists could analyze it. Trace the residue. Maybe even track where it was sold.”

Nikolai picks up the tube, turning it over in his hands. “I’ll have Roman handle it when he gets back. In the meantime, I’ll put feelers out.”

“Thank you,” I say, forcing the words out. They taste bitter on my tongue, but they’re necessary.

Nikolai doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he sets the tube back down and leans back, his gaze cool and calculating. He’s silent for a moment, and I know he’s weighing his options, already figuring out how to turn this to his advantage.

“We can work out a deal,” he says. “But let me be clear once more—this isn’t about helping you . I’m doing it for Katya and Sofiya. I couldn’t care less if you die in the process.”

“Fair enough.” I shrug. His words don’t sting. I’ve never expected him to care if I lived or died. “I can take care of myself.”

“Good,” Nikolai replies, his tone clipped. He gestures to the bodyguard standing behind him—a hulking brute with a permanent scowl and hands like cinder blocks. “Ivan will handle this. He’s the only one I trust to protect Katya and Sofiya while also figuring out who’s behind these threats. He’ll report everything back to me, and I’ll provide you with the information you need to deal with your situation.”

My blood boils at the implication. “I don’t need a babysitter,” I snap. “And I’m not giving him access to my home.”

“As I said, this isn’t about you,” Nikolai bites back, his voice sharp as a blade. His chin lifts in that imperious way of his, and his cold gaze doesn’t waver. “Besides, he and Katya are old friends. You want her to feel safe, don’t you?”

The question hits me like a punch to the gut. I grit my teeth, my fists clenching at my sides.

I glance at Aleks, hoping for backup.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Aleks says cautiously, as if he’s choosing each word with care. “Time’s of the essence, and every minute we waste arguing puts us all at greater risk.”

I hate that he’s right. If something happened to Katya or the kids because I was too stubborn to swallow my pride, I’d never forgive myself.

With a heavy sigh, I glare at Nikolai. “Fine. Ivan can come along. But there are limits.”

Nikolai’s lips curl into a smug smirk as he stands, brushing imaginary lint off his expensive suit. He’s won, and he knows it. “We have a deal,” he says, extending his hand.

Reluctantly, I rise and shake it.

“Now,” Nikolai releases my hand and nods toward the glass of vodka on the table, “you didn’t touch your drink. It’s rude to refuse a friendly offer, Igor.”

I bite back a growl, picking up the glass and downing it in one gulp. The burn spreads down my throat, sharp and immediate, but I slam the ryumka onto the table without breaking eye contact. Aleks and Konstantin exchange uneasy glances before following suit, their expressions tight as they drain their own shots.

With the deal made, we leave. Ivan is already shadowing me like a damn storm cloud, his massive frame looming over us as we head to the underground garage.

When we reach the car, Dominik stiffens, his sharp eyes narrowing on Ivan. He doesn’t say anything, but the tension is obvious.

“You two go home,” I tell Aleks. “Don’t leave Katya’s side.”

Aleks hesitates, his brow furrowing. “I’ll get the men?—”

“No,” I cut him off. My tone leaves no room for argument. “I want you personally there. You’re the only one I trust to do whatever’s necessary to keep them safe.”

He stares at me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he nods.

I watch as Aleks and Dominik get into the car and drive off, taking a piece of my worry with them. With them there, I know Katya and the kids will be safe.

Turning to Ivan, I let my irritation show. His stoic expression doesn’t change, and I hate him a little for it. “I hope one of these cars is yours,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “I have a sudden urge to go to a strip club.”

For the first time, Ivan’s mouth twitches, though it’s more a grimace than a smile. “Your call, Shef ,” he rumbles, his voice deep and gravelly.

I roll my eyes and climb into my car. When I find whoever’s behind this, they’ll wish they were dead.