Mafia Prince’s Secret Baby (New York Bratva)

EXTENDED EPILOGUE

KATYA

“We’re almost there,” Igor promises, a small smile tugging at his lips as he navigates the winding road alongside the ocean. The salt-tinged breeze drifts through the cracked windows, carrying the familiar promise of summer—the kind of summer you can taste in the air, full of sun-drenched days and warm, lingering evenings.

“Patience is a virtue, kids,” he adds, his voice laced with amusement as he glances into the rearview mirror.

I glance at the kids in the backseat. Sofiya is slumped against the window, her cheek smushed into the glass, while Damien’s head tilts to the side, his mouth open slightly as he snores. They’re growing so fast, yet moments like this remind me how young they still are.

I turn my attention back to Igor, shaking my head with a small laugh. “I still can’t believe you bought a house in the Hamptons,” I say, the words feeling surreal even as I speak them.

He looks at me briefly, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel while the other reaches over to squeeze my thigh. “I wanted it to be a surprise,” he says, his thumb brushing against the fabric of my jeans in that way that makes my heart flutter. “You’ll love it. East Hampton Village is supposed to be quiet and perfect for the kids. Summer camps, beaches, ice cream stands, and,” he leans closer conspiratorially, his lips curling into that irresistible smirk of his, “a lot of one-on-one time for us.”

The glint in his eyes is full of mischief, the kind that gets under my skin and makes me love him more than I should.

I raise an eyebrow but can’t fight the smile creeping across my lips. “One-on-one time, huh? I hope you’re not planning to make me cook during this vacation.”

Igor chuckles, his deep voice rumbling through the car. “Of course not, volchitsa. I’ll handle the grill, and you just focus on relaxing.”

His words carry the weight of truth, and I know he means it. For all his sharp edges and commanding presence, Igor has a softness when it comes to me and the kids—a quiet determination to make our lives not just safe but filled with joy.

As we pull into a narrow driveway, my breath catches at the sight before us. The house stands tall and proud, its white-wood exterior gleaming in the late afternoon sun. Large windows line every wall, and the wraparound porches seem to invite the sea breeze in for a lingering stay. The lawn is immaculate, stretching out like a green carpet toward a yard framed with hydrangeas and rose bushes.

“Wow,” I whisper, the word slipping out before I can stop it.

Igor parks the car and presses a button to raise the garage door. Inside, I catch a glimpse of a fire pit, a wooden swing, and sleek gym equipment gleaming under the lights.

“This is… amazing,” I murmur, turning to him.

“There’s a sauna upstairs,” Igor says casually, as if that’s a perfectly normal thing to have. “And a view of the ocean from the master bedroom. Come on, let me show you.”

I glance back at the kids, still groggy. “We’re here, sleepyheads,” Igor says with a chuckle, turning off the engine.

Damien is the first to stumble out of the car, rubbing his eyes and then freezing as he takes in the backyard. “Whoa,” he breathes, immediately bolting toward the wooden swing.

Sofiya stretches her arms above her head, her face lighting up when she spots the porch. “It’s so pretty!” she exclaims, her voice still thick with sleep but filled with excitement.

Igor grins, leaning over to kiss the top of my head before stepping out. “Come on,” he says, his voice warm. “Let’s go see your rooms. I had everything set up.”

As we step inside, I’m overwhelmed by how beautiful the house is. It’s airy and open, the natural light spilling in through tall windows. The interior is both elegant and welcoming with soft hues of white, cream, and blue that reflect the water just beyond.

“It’s perfect,” I tell Igor, turning to him.

His grin widens as he pulls me closer, his hands sliding around my waist. “You’re perfect,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone that unravels me every time.

I laugh softly, shaking my head, but before I can respond, he lifts me off the ground and spins me in a circle.

“Igor!” I squeal, clutching his shoulders as my feet dangle.

The kids’ giggles echo from the staircase, and Damien shouts, “Mom and Dad are being gross again!”

Sofiya adds her own dramatic gagging noises, making Igor laugh as he sets me back on my feet.

“They’re growing up too fast,” I say, leaning into his chest as I catch my breath.

“Nah,” he replies, pressing a playful kiss against the top of my head. “We’ve got time. Now let’s go catch the little monkeys and help them with their bags.”

He starts to turn, but I grab his wrist, pulling him back. When his gaze meets mine, it’s full of warmth and mischief, and I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at him.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

“For what?”

“For being you,” I say simply, my heart swelling with emotion I can’t quite put into words.

Igor leans down, brushing a soft kiss against my forehead, and when his deep blue eyes meet mine again, they’re filled with something raw and unguarded. He doesn’t need to say anything; his gaze tells me everything.

Years ago, I couldn’t have imagined this life, this love, this family. But now, standing here in this house he bought for us, with the laughter of our children echoing around us, I know I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

He kisses me again, slow and deep, and I feel it in every corner of my soul.

“I love you,” he murmurs against my lips.

“And I love you,” I reply.

Igor pulls back, grinning. “I’d love to keep this up, volchitsa, but if we don’t bring the bags in, the kids are going to riot.”

I laugh, shaking my head as he walks toward the car. “Always the romantic.”

While Igor hauls the luggage inside, I follow the kids upstairs. Damien’s room is decked out in robot-themed wallpaper, while Sofiya’s is a pastel floral wonderland. Their beds are piled with colorful pillows, and I can already tell they’re going to love it here.

“Mom, can we get ice cream after dinner?” Sofiya asks, poking her head out of her room.

“We’ll see,” I reply, smiling.

Downstairs, Igor’s voice calls out. “I want to test the grill in the backyard! Who’s in?”

“Me!” Damien shouts from his room. “Can I flip the steak this time?”

“Sure,” Igor replies. He turns to Sofiya, who lingers at the top of the stairs. “What about you, malyshka?”

Sofiya grins. “Only if you let me season it!”

Igor chuckles, the sound low and rich, as he looks up at Damien and Sofiya. “When you two are unpacked, come downstairs, okay?”

Their agreement comes in unison, with an enthusiasm that has me smiling. There’s a glimmer of excitement in their eyes that’s infectious. Not that I can blame them. I feel it too.

Igor turns and disappears down the stairs, his footsteps fading. I linger upstairs for a while longer, pretending to stay busy but really just watching Damien and Sofiya out of the corner of my eye. We’ve been working hard to teach them independence, letting them take on more responsibility as they grow, but old habits die hard. I like knowing what they’re up to.

Damien is already halfway through unpacking, pulling out his neatly folded clothes with the precision of someone who doesn’t want wrinkles. Sofiya, on the other hand, has started building a pillow fortress on her bed. My lips twitch, but I let it slide.

When I’m satisfied that they’re both doing fine—or at least half-decent—I head downstairs to check out the kitchen. Igor’s in charge of grilling the steak, and Damien will undoubtedly be his enthusiastic sous chef, but knowing Igor, he’ll forget the salad entirely if I don’t intervene.

“It’s about time you came down,” Igor says warmly as I step into the kitchen. He holds up a glass of wine, the deep red catching the sunlight streaming through the windows. It casts shimmering crimson patterns across the marble countertop, and the sight feels like a soft kiss on a perfect day.

“I was waiting for you,” he adds, setting the glass down in front of me. His smile is that maddening mix of charm and mischief that makes my pulse skip.

Before I can respond, Igor moves behind me, his broad chest pressing lightly against my back. One arm circles my waist, pulling me close, while his other hand holds his own glass of wine. He leans in, his breath warm against my ear as he purrs, “Damien and Sofiya are already headed to the garden, but we have a few minutes before we need to follow them.”

“Oh, yeah?” I reply, playing along as I pull out a head of lettuce and some tomatoes from the fridge. I set them on the counter, pretending to focus on the salad prep, but the teasing edge in my voice betrays me.

“Yeah,” Igor murmurs, his lips brushing the side of my neck in a kiss that makes my knees weak.

Heat spreads through me, low and steady, curling into my abdomen as he presses another kiss just below my ear. My core tightens, and I spin around, meeting his smirk head-on.

His lips claim mine, the kiss soft but insistent, and a low groan rumbles in the back of his throat. I feel it vibrate through me, sparking a fire in my chest.

“This,” Igor whispers, pulling back just enough for our foreheads to touch, “is everything I never knew I wanted.” His hands grip the edge of the counter on either side of me, caging me in as his intense blue gaze locks with mine. His voice softens as he adds, “You’re everything, volchitsa.”

Emotion rises in my chest, swelling so fast it nearly chokes me. I grab him by the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer. “How about after we feed the kids,” I murmur, my lips brushing his, “we put them in front of a movie and have some grown-up time?”

His grin is instant, wolfish and full of promise. “Sounds wonderful.” He leans down, his voice dropping to a low, heated whisper. “We could even try to give them a little brother or sister, huh? What do you say?”

I laugh softly, my fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt. “Would you like that?”

Igor’s answer is immediate. “A baby? If it happens, I’ll be happy.” He presses a kiss to the sensitive skin of my neck, making me shiver. “But putting the effort into making one sounds even better.”

His eyes glint with amusement, but beneath it is something deeper, something raw. We’ve talked about this before, especially now that the kids are older, but the idea still feels like a secret dream we haven’t dared fully explore.

“Deal,” I whisper, and he smiles like I’ve just handed him the world.

His lips are back on mine, firm and demanding, and my heart pounds as his hands trace slow, deliberate lines along my back. His touch sets me alight, and I melt into him, losing myself in the kiss. It doesn’t matter how many times he kisses me—it always feels like the first.

The sound of the children bursting into the house breaks the spell.

Damien hops onto a barstool, his excitement bubbling over. “Can we cook now?”

“Sure, sweetie,” I say, stepping back from Igor with a soft laugh. I glance at Sofiya, who is peeking shyly from behind the counter. “What about you, Sofiya? Are you ready to help?”

She nods enthusiastically, and her giggle warms me from the inside out.

Igor grabs Damien by the shoulder, steering him toward the grill. “Come on, buddy. Remember, you’re in charge of flipping the steak.”

“Yes!” Damien’s face lights up with pure joy as he follows Igor outside. Sofiya trails after them, her tea set tucked under her arm as she sets up for another elaborate “party” on the lawn.

For a moment, I stand in the doorway, watching them. Igor crouches by the grill, showing Damien how to hold the tongs, while Sofiya sets up her tea party nearby, her laughter floating in the summer air.

And I realize—this is it.

This beautiful chaos, this life we’ve built together, is exactly where I’m meant to be.

I join them outside, the warm breeze tugging at my hair. Igor glances over his shoulder, his eyes locking on mine with that same smirk I fell in love with all those years ago.

“Ready for the best summer of our lives, volchitsa?” he calls, his voice teasing yet full of meaning.

“More than ready,” I reply, smiling back at him.

And as the sun dips lower in the sky, painting the horizon in shades of gold and amber, I know this is more than a vacation. This is our haven. Our home. Our happiness.

THE END