Secret Daddies (Reverse Harem Daddies)

3. Dmitri

I don’t expect anyone to be wandering the halls this early in the morning. The house is quiet, as it always is at this hour, and I prefer it that way—no distractions, no one watching, no one asking questions. I’m making my way to the east wing for a security check I like to conduct myself. Call it an obsessive habit, or just years of distrust, but I find it…reassuring to know everything is where it should be.

So when I round the corner and spot a figure I don’t recognize standing by the kitchen entrance, I stop. It’s a woman, her back turned to me, rummaging through one of the upper cabinets, completely unaware of my presence.

I study her from a distance, taking in the casual clothes—a simple, fitted sweater and jeans that hug her in a way that’s both modest and…distracting. She’s not dressed like any of the staff, and she doesn’t have the wary, submissive demeanor they usually carry. Her movements are unguarded, relaxed, as if she’s completely at ease in the house, which irritates me, because she shouldn’t be. I make it a point to know everyone who sets foot in our home, yet here she is, making herself comfortable, oblivious to the fact she’s being watched.

With measured steps, I cross the room. “Are you lost?” I ask, my voice cool, controlled.

She startles, practically jumping out of her skin as she whirls around to face me. Her green eyes—wider now with surprise—land on me, and she takes a step back, almost instinctively.

“Oh,” she says, recovering quickly, though her gaze is wary, cautious as she sizes me up. “I’m just…looking for some breakfast. For the kids. I didn’t realize?—”

“At six in the morning?” I say.

“They were hungry,” she says matter-of-factly. I’m not surprised. The children are known to make outlandish demands. So that must make her the nanny.

“I’m Alice,” she offers, lifting her chin. “The…new nanny.”

So this is Ivan’s new hire. I was skeptical when he mentioned her, certain he wouldn’t bring in someone inexperienced, but here she is, with a quiet confidence that doesn’t quite match the naivety I expected.

She’s different from what I expected, though I’m not entirely sure what I was expecting. Small-framed but sturdy, with dark hair that cascades over her shoulders in messy waves, and dressed in simple, unassuming clothes.

I step further in, crossing my arms as I watch her for a moment.

“I see. I didn’t mean to startle you,” I say, though that’s exactly what I had meant to do.

“You just caught me by surprise,” she says.

“You didn’t realize someone else lived here?” I interject, raising an eyebrow.

She frowns, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “I mean…I haven’t met everyone yet, so I didn’t expect…” She trails off, flustered, and I almost smile.

“I see.” I allow a small smirk, watching as her confusion settles into a sort of quiet resolve. She straightens, her expression sharpening just a little, like she’s not one to be easily rattled, despite her initial reaction.

“Dmitri,” I say finally. “Ivan’s younger brother.”

“Oh,” she breathes out. “Marta mentioned you. The youngest Morozov.”

“Don’t look so surprised,” I say, my tone flat but amused. People rarely expect much from the youngest, assuming I’m either out of the picture or content to stay in the shadows. Fine by me. Let them underestimate me.

Alice glances away for a second, biting her lip, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

People who come into this house often act like they’re walking on eggshells. But her? She’s studying me just as much as I’m studying her.

“So,” she says, and there’s a small, cautious smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Are you going to let me find the juice, or…?”

The boldness in her tone is almost surprising, like she’s challenging me. It’s subtle, but it’s there, and I can’t help but feel a flicker of intrigue.

“You don’t strike me as the kind of person who’d need permission,” I reply, leaning against the counter, watching her reaction. “Am I wrong?”

Her gaze meets mine, steady. “No,” she says softly. “You’re not wrong.”

Interesting.

I step back, motioning for her to continue. “By all means, don’t let me stop you.”

She turns back to the fridge, but I can see she’s still on edge.

“You seem intent on getting my attention, Miss Parker,” I say, my voice as even and detached as ever.

Her lips curve slightly, into a faint, almost teasing smile. “Not my intention, but I do have a few questions. If that’s alright.”

I cross my arms, studying her. “Ask.”

She shifts her weight, and though her stance is relaxed, there’s an underlying tension, like she’s assessing every word she’s about to say. “I want to know what I can expect here,” she begins, her tone calm but measured. “I’m here for the twins, and I understand that’s my primary role. But I also know…well, I’m not entirely blind. I can tell there’s more to this family than meets the eye.”

Interesting. Most people wouldn’t even come close to acknowledging that. “More to this family?” I echo, leaning against the wall.

“Yes. I saw the security, the way everything is…monitored. And the twins…” Her voice softens slightly, a warmth creeping in. “They’re young, but they seem to know things most kids wouldn’t.”

“Mila and Luka are…perceptive,” I admit, though my words are carefully chosen. “They grew up in a world where perception can mean survival.”

She nods, absorbing this, her expression thoughtful. “That’s what I mean. If I’m here to protect them, as Ivan said, then I want to know what I’m up against. What threats, what risks—what am I walking into?”

It’s a fair question. She’s stepping into our world, blind to the shadows lurking here. And while Ivan may be content to let her find her footing slowly, I can’t afford that risk. I study her for a moment, watching the way she holds herself, steady and unyielding.

“Let’s just say,” I reply slowly, “this family has…enemies. Rivals, people who would go to great lengths to get to us. The Morozov name isn’t exactly friendly in every corner of the city.” I keep my tone clipped, intentionally vague. She doesn’t need every detail—not yet.

She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull back. Instead, she nods, as if this was exactly the answer she expected. “I see.” There’s a pause, and then she tilts her head, watching me with a hint of a smile. “So does that mean I’ll be under as much scrutiny as anyone else here?”

“Yes.” The answer slips out before I even consider softening it.

“And you should be prepared for that. This isn’t a normal nanny position, Alice. You’re entering a world where loyalty isn’t given easily. And if you cross the wrong people, there are consequences.”

Her eyes flash, a mixture of understanding and something else—something like defiance. “I understand that,” she says, her voice firm. “But loyalty goes both ways, doesn’t it?”

Damn, this woman. She’s not making this any easier, and I find myself wanting to push her, to see how far that confidence of hers really goes. I let my eyes travel over her, slower this time, watching as a hint of color rises in her cheeks. But she doesn’t look away, and the effect is…intoxicating.

“What’s interesting,” I murmur, taking another step closer, “is that you’re here, standing in this house, surrounded by people you don’t know, in a world you don’t understand. And yet, you’re not the least bit intimidated.”

Her lips press together, and for a moment, I think I’ve gotten under her skin. But then she smiles, just a little, and it’s the kind of smile that challenges everything I just said.

“Maybe I just don’t scare that easily,” she replies.

I can’t help but chuckle, a low, quiet sound that surprises even me. I take another step, until there’s barely a breath of space between us. I can smell her light, clean scent, feel the warmth radiating off her, and it takes every ounce of self-control to keep my hands at my sides.

“Is that so?” I say softly, letting my voice drop, watching as her eyes flicker down to my mouth, just for a second, before snapping back up.

She swallows, her throat moving as she breathes out slowly, and I catch the way her pulse flutters at her neck. She’s confident, but she’s not immune to me, and that realization is dangerous. It would be so easy to reach out, to press her against the wall and see if she still keeps up that bold front when there’s no distance between us.

“You’re stepping into a world you don’t understand,” I say.

But then she speaks, breaking the tension with a voice that’s too soft, too clear. “Are you trying to scare me, Dmitri?”

The way she says my name, soft but pointed, stirs something dark and primal inside me. I smirk, letting my fingers hover just a fraction away from her waist, not touching, but close enough that she can feel the heat between us.

“Maybe I am,” I say, my voice barely a murmur.

Her gaze doesn’t waver, and she shifts slightly, tilting her head up to meet me, her breath warm against my cheek. “You’ll have to try harder, then.”

God, this woman. She has no idea what she’s asking for. I feel myself lean in, just a fraction, my hand moving closer to her waist.

“Consider this your first lesson,” I say, my voice cool again, though it takes every ounce of restraint to keep it that way. “In this house, trust doesn’t come easily. And attraction can be dangerous.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t step back. Instead, she lifts her chin, her gaze locked on mine. “Then I’ll remember that.”

I hold her gaze for a beat longer, feeling that stubborn attraction pull at me, urging me to break my own rules. But instead, I turn, stepping away before I let myself cross a line I know I can’t uncross.

“Good,” I say, my tone clipped.

I walk down the hallway, trying to shake off the image of Alice’s stubborn, unflinching gaze.

She doesn’t understand what she’s asking for. This is a world where fear isn’t just a feeling—it’s a tool, a weapon. And here she is, barely blinking as I try to show her just a sliver of that darkness.

The thought follows me as I head toward the main hall, my footsteps echoing through the quiet house. I’m nearly at the staircase when I catch sight of a familiar figure. My uncle, Alexei, is just coming through the front door, a smirk playing on his weathered face. He reeks of expensive perfume, the scent clinging to him like a calling card.

“Out late again, Uncle?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. The scent alone tells me he’s had an interesting evening.

He chuckles, his voice rough with years but laced with an amused edge. “I may be getting old, Dmitri, but some things…some things don’t change.”

“Is that so?” I ask.

“Had a nice dinner, a bit of wine, and company that was…very enthusiastic.”

I shake my head, unable to hold back a smirk. “Still got game, then.”

His grin widens, and he gives me a mock bow. “One can’t lose what one never had,” he says with a wink, patting my shoulder as he straightens. “Besides, life should have its pleasures, especially when work makes the rest so…volatile.”

We share a look. I know the feeling.

Business has been…complicated, to put it lightly. Between Vadim’s power grabs and the never-ending web of alliances and betrayals, it feels like our world is a minefield.

“Speaking of volatility,” he says, his tone dropping, “how’s our friend Vadim?”

“Still nosing around, making it clear he’s eager to expand his reach,” I reply, keeping my voice low. “He’s testing us, looking for any weakness.”

Alexei nods, his expression darkening. “Vadim’s been waiting for an opportunity since…” He pauses, his gaze flickering to me for just a beat too long, the unspoken name hanging between us.

Elena.

“He’s always been ambitious. Nothing new.”

Alexei nods, though there’s a flash of something knowing in his gaze. He was close to Elena too. Maybe he knows—or suspects—that I was the last one to see her alive, that those last moments are something I can’t erase. I push the thought away, locking it down with everything else.

“You’re restless, Dmitri,” he says, breaking the silence. “Can’t sleep?”

I give a slight nod, not willing to offer more. He’s right; sleep has been elusive lately.

“Too much to think about,” I mutter, glancing away.

He hums, crossing his arms as he studies me. “You work too hard. This world, it’ll take and take, Dmitri, until there’s nothing left. Find something outside of it. Or at least a distraction within it.”

His words hold a note of caution, one he rarely shows. I force a tight smile, giving a nonchalant shrug. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He raises an eyebrow, and for a moment, I think he might push further. But then he just nods, his smirk returning as he pats my shoulder. “Good. Just remember—life is more than this house, nephew. Don’t let it swallow you.”

With that, he turns and heads toward his quarters, leaving me alone with the echoes of his words.

I stand there for a moment, letting his advice settle, and my mind drifts back, unbidden, to the image of Alice. To her defiance, her boldness, her unexpected bravery. Maybe she’s the kind of “distraction” Alexei would encourage. And maybe that’s exactly why I need to stay away.

End of preview.