Relentless Bratva Daddy (Wicked Bratva Daddies #6)

I buried him five years ago.

He just walked into my dining room.

Very much alive — and looking at me like five years of grief is mine to explain.

Lev Antonov.

Six-foot-three of scarred, grey-eyed Russian.

Fourteen years older than me and the deadliest thing in any room he walks into.

He let me believe the grave.

He let me mourn.

He let me rebuild a whole life around missing him.

Now he’s in the doorway of my restaurant.

That dark suit.

That wrecked accent saying my name like it never left his mouth.

But wait.

There’s a four-year-old asleep upstairs with his exact grey eyes.

A son he doesn’t know exists.

And a second secret growing under my chef’s coat.

The way his hand finds the small of my back like no time has passed…

The way he counts every exit before he lets me walk into a room…

The way he looks at me like I am the life he climbed into a grave to protect…

This relentless Bratva daddy came back from the dead for me.

He has no idea what he’s about to find.