Ruthless Daddies (Reverse Harem Daddies)

10. Nikolai

10

NIKOLAI

T he antiseptic smell of the doctor’s kit fills the air, sharp and cloying, as I sit shirtless on the edge of my bed, my arm outstretched. The bullet graze isn’t deep, but the skin around it burns, a raw, pulsing reminder of how close things came to going sideways.

The bullet barely grazed me, just a flesh wound, but the fact that it happened at all—the fact that I let the bastard get away—has me seething.

“Hold still, Nikolai,” Dr. Petrov mutters, his voice gruff as he finishes wrapping the wound. He’s been with the family for years, seen us through worse injuries than this.

I grit my teeth as the doctor dabs at the wound, my patience wearing thin. My mind is elsewhere—back at the park, replaying the chaos in my head, trying to figure out how the hell someone got that close to Luka without any of us noticing. It’s a failure, plain and simple, and the kind that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

“You’re lucky,” the doctor says, his tone too calm for my liking. “A fraction closer and it would’ve done real damage. As it is, you’ll just have a nasty scar.”

“Save the lecture,” I snap, barely glancing at him. “Just finish up.”

He doesn’t respond, just keeps working, but I feel Alice’s eyes on me from across the room. She hasn’t said a word since we got here, but her worry radiates off her in waves. She’s pacing near the window, her arms crossed, chewing on her bottom lip. Every few steps, she glances at me, her expression a mix of guilt and fear.

Uncle Alexei leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, his face a stony mask of disappointment. He hasn’t said much either, but his silence is louder than words.

“I should’ve caught him,” I say, breaking the tension. My voice is low, raw with frustration. “Whoever that bastard was, I should’ve ended it right there.”

“You were shot, Nikolai,” Alexei says evenly, though there’s a sharpness to his tone. “Your priority was protecting Luka, not chasing after some coward in the trees.”

I glare at him, my jaw tightening. “Luka shouldn’t have been at risk in the first place.”

At that, Alice stops pacing. She turns to face me, her hands dropping to her sides. “This isn’t your fault,” she says softly, her voice shaking just enough to betray how much she means it. “You…you protected us. You got Luka back.”

Her words should soothe me, but they only make the anger churn hotter in my chest. “You don’t understand,” I say, my tone harsher than I intend. “This isn’t just about what happened today. It’s about what could’ve happened. What almost happened.”

Alexei lets out a low growl of agreement, crossing his arms as he leans against the wall. “This wasn’t random,” he says, his voice like gravel. “It’s a message.”

“A message,” I repeat bitterly. “And we’re supposed to let Luka pay the price for it?”

“No,” Alexei says firmly, his eyes dark. “We find out who sent it, and we send one back.”

Alice shifts in her chair, her hands tightening into fists. “But Luka’s okay,” she says, as if reminding us of the most important part. “That’s what matters, right? He’s safe.”

The room is quiet for barely a moment before the door swings open, slamming against the wall with a force that makes Alice jump. Ivan strides in, his presence filling the room like a storm, his icy blue eyes blazing with fury.

“You,” he snarls, his voice sharp enough to cut through steel. “Do you have any idea how incredibly stupid you acted today?”

I meet his gaze, but I don’t flinch. I knew this was coming.

“Ivan—” Alice starts, her voice small but steady, stepping forward slightly.

“Not now,” Ivan snaps, his glare cutting toward her for the briefest of moments before settling back on me. “Whose idea was it to take the children to the park?” His voice lowers, deadly and quiet, as his gaze flickers to Alice again, suspicious, searching.

“It was mine,” I say before he can draw any conclusions. My voice is calm, firm, leaving no room for doubt. “The decision was mine, and mine alone.”

Ivan’s eyes narrow, his anger shifting momentarily into something colder, more calculating. “You thought taking them to a public park was a good idea? You thought leaving them exposed, vulnerable, was the right move?”

“I thought it would help them feel normal for once,” I say, keeping my tone steady, even as the tension in the room rises. “I had security. I was there. I took every precaution?—”

“Clearly not enough !” Ivan barks, his voice thundering. He steps closer, towering over me where I sit. “Luka was nearly taken. Nearly gone . Do you understand what that means, Nikolai?”

I don’t answer. There’s nothing I can say that will douse the fire in his voice, the raw fear that’s hiding beneath his rage.

“Ivan,” Alice says again, softer this time, her voice wavering slightly. “He?—”

“Leave,” Ivan commands, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. He doesn’t even look at her, his focus entirely on me. “Now.”

Alice hesitates, glancing at me, her worry etched into every line of her face. I nod at her, a silent reassurance, and after a moment, she turns and slips out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

The silence that follows her exit is deafening.

Ivan takes a step back, pacing like a caged animal, his hand raking through his dark hair. “Do you know what happens if they succeed next time?” he growls, his voice low but seething. “Do you know what that would mean?”

“I know exactly what it would mean,” I reply, my voice steady. “Which is why I didn’t let it happen.”

His glare sharpens, and he stops pacing, turning to face me fully. “And yet, you didn’t catch him.”

“I managed to shoot the bastard in the leg,” I counter, leaning forward slightly, my elbows resting on my knees. “He won’t get far. We can identify him, track him down.”

Ivan lets out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Track him down? And what then? What about the others he’s working with? Do you think this was a one-man job?”

“I don’t think?—”

“That’s right, you don’t think!” he roars, his control slipping for a brief moment, the raw edge of his fear bleeding through. “This isn’t just about you, Nikolai. It’s about Mila and Luka. My children. They are the only thing that matters. And because of your recklessness, their lives were put in danger.”

I stand now, facing him head-on, my own anger rising to meet his. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t care about them as much as you do?”

His eyes narrow, his fists clenching at his sides. “Not enough to act with sense.”

“I acted to protect them,” I snap, my voice lowering into a growl. “And I did. Luka is safe. Mila is safe. I won’t apologize for that.”

“You won’t need to if you stop making decisions that put them in harm’s way,” he bites back, his tone colder now, more controlled. “You think one injured man will give us answers? You think shooting him in the leg solves anything?”

“It’s a start,” I say firmly. “And it’s more than we had before.”

Ivan exhales sharply, turning away from me, his hands braced against the desk as he stares down at the polished wood. His shoulders are tense, his breathing heavy, and I know his anger isn’t just at me—it’s at the situation, at the fact that someone dared to touch what’s his.

“I’ll find him,” I say after a long moment, my voice softer now. “I’ll make sure he can’t come near them again. And I’ll find out who sent him.”

Ivan doesn’t respond immediately. When he finally turns back to me, his expression is harder, sharper, but there’s something else there too—something raw and vulnerable that he’s trying to bury beneath the rage.

“You’d better,” he says quietly, his voice laced with a quiet, deadly promise. “Because if they come again, if they so much as breathe in Mila or Luka’s direction, there won’t be anywhere on this earth they can hide.”

The house is quiet, the kind of heavy silence that seems to settle only after a storm. I lie on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, the events of the day playing on a loop in my mind.

Sleep is a distant dream tonight.

I sit up, running a hand through my hair, considering pouring myself a drink when a soft knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. I glance at the clock—almost midnight. Frowning, I cross the room and pull the door open.

Alice stands there, her expression uncertain, her arms crossed over herself as if she’s not sure she should be here. She’s wearing a jacket, zipped up tightly, but beneath it, I catch a glimpse of something silky—a nightdress. My imagination takes flight for a moment, unbidden images filling my mind, and I have to force myself to focus.

“Alice,” I say, my voice low. “What are you doing here?”

“I—” She hesitates, glancing down the hall before looking back at me. “I couldn’t sleep. I needed to talk to you.”

Her voice is soft, almost hesitant, and there’s something about the way she stands there, vulnerable and unsure, that makes me step aside. “Come in.”

She steps inside, her movements cautious as if she’s still deciding whether this was a good idea. I close the door behind her, leaning against it as I watch her take a seat on the edge of my couch, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

“You okay?” I ask, crossing my arms as I study her.

She nods quickly, but her eyes tell a different story. “I just…I wanted to thank you,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “For earlier. For taking the blame with Ivan. I know he would’ve fired me if he knew it was my idea to take the kids to the park.”

I shrug, moving to sit on the armrest of the couch, just a few feet from her. “Ivan’s temper isn’t your problem. He’s just…protective. Too much, sometimes.”

“Still,” she says, looking up at me, her green eyes bright in the dim light. “You didn’t have to do that. But you did. And I…I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” I say, my voice softening. “I’ll always have your back, Alice.”

The words hang in the air, heavier than I intended, and I can see the way they hit her, the way her breath catches just slightly. Her gaze drops to her lap, her hands twisting together nervously.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” she murmurs, her voice trembling just a little. “Not if you don’t mean them.”

I reach out, my fingers brushing hers, and she looks up, startled. “I mean it,” I say firmly, my eyes locked on hers.

Her lips part slightly, as if she’s about to say something, but no words come out. Instead, she leans forward, her movements tentative, and I meet her halfway, my hand sliding to her jaw as our lips touch.

The kiss is soft at first, hesitant, like we’re testing the waters. But it doesn’t stay that way for long. The moment she leans into me, her hands clutching at my shirt, something snaps. The kiss deepens, growing hotter, more desperate, and I pull her closer, my hands sliding to her waist, feeling the warmth of her body beneath the thin fabric of her dress.

She gasps against my mouth, her fingers tangling in my hair, and I take the opportunity to trail kisses down her jaw, to the sensitive skin of her neck. She tilts her head back, giving me better access, and I don’t hesitate, sucking lightly, enough to draw a soft moan from her lips.

“ Nikolai ,” she whispers, her voice breathless, and the sound of my name on her lips sends a rush of heat straight to my core.

I slide my hands down, gripping her hips and pulling her onto my lap. She straddles me, her dress riding up her thighs, and I run my hands up her sides, feeling every curve, every inch of her soft skin. My lips find hers again, and this time, the kiss is pure fire.

Her jacket falls to the floor, forgotten, and I let my hands roam, exploring her like I’ve wanted to for days, weeks. She’s everything I imagined and more, and I’m quickly losing control.

But just as my fingers slide under the hem of her dress, brushing against her bare thigh, she pulls back slightly, her lips swollen and her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

“We…” she starts, her voice shaky, her eyes wide. “We shouldn’t…”

I rest my forehead against hers, my breathing just as ragged. “You’re right,” I say, though my hands are still on her, my thumbs brushing small circles against her hips. “We shouldn’t.”

But neither of us moves. Neither of us lets go.

And soon enough, we’re kissing again.

Her lips meet mine again, tentative at first, her breath hitching as she shifts on my lap, trying to avoid putting pressure on my arm. The graze stings, but right now I barely feel it. All I can focus on is the way she tastes, the way her fingers grip my shoulders, her touch careful but desperate all the same.

“So careful,” I murmur against her mouth, my voice low, teasing. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispers, her eyes darting to my arm before flicking back to mine, wide and unsure.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” I promise, my good hand sliding up her back, pulling her closer. “Let me take care of you.”

Her cheeks flush, her lips parting as if she wants to protest, but instead she melts into me, her body pressing against mine in a way that makes it impossible to think straight. I grip her waist firmly, holding her steady as my other hand moves to the hem of her dress, sliding it higher, inch by inch, revealing more of her soft, warm skin.

She gasps, her hands clutching at my shirt, but she doesn’t stop me. Instead, she arches slightly, giving me access, and I take it, leaning forward to kiss the delicate curve of her collarbone. Her skin is warm under my lips, her scent intoxicating, and I trail kisses lower, pushing her dress up further as I go.

When I reach the swell of her breasts, she moans softly, her fingers tangling in my hair. “Nikolai…” she breathes, her voice trembling, and it’s like fuel to a fire I can’t control.

I slide the straps of her nightdress down, baring her to me, and take a moment to admire her, my breath catching. She’s stunning, her skin flushed, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she looks down at me.

“You’re perfect,” I murmur, my voice rough, and before she can respond, I lean in, taking one of her nipples into my mouth.

Her reaction is immediate. She lets out a sharp, breathy moan, her back arching as her hands tighten in my hair. I suck gently at first, teasing, my tongue flicking over the sensitive peak before I suck harder, drawing another cry from her lips. My hand moves to her other breast, kneading and squeezing, my thumb brushing over her nipple in slow, deliberate strokes.

She’s a mess in my arms, her breaths coming in short gasps, her hips shifting slightly against me, and it’s driving me insane. I can feel myself hardening beneath her, the heat between us building with every soft sound she makes, every moan that slips past her lips.

“God, Alice,” I groan, pulling back just enough to look at her. Her face is flushed, her lips swollen from our kisses, and her eyes are dark, half-lidded with desire. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

She shakes her head slightly, biting her lip, and it’s all I can do not to lose control completely. My hands grip her waist tighter, sliding her closer against me, and I can feel her heat through the thin fabric of her panties. It takes everything in me not to tear them away, to claim her right here and now.

But I hold back, even as the tension between us threatens to snap. She’s being careful, tentative because of my injury, and the last thing I want is to push her too far, too fast. I kiss her again, slower this time, my lips trailing down her neck and back to her breasts, lavishing attention on every inch of her.

Her moans grow louder, more urgent, and her hips start to move instinctively, grinding against me in a way that makes my vision blur. I grip her tighter, trying to anchor myself, but it’s useless.

“Tell me you want this,” I murmur against her skin, my voice rough and low. “Tell me, Alice.”

Her breath catches, and for a moment, I think she might hesitate. But then she whispers, “I want this, Nikolai. I want you. ”