Page 59 of Mafia Daddy

I reach across the table and take his hand. “I want to contribute, Maxim. If there’s a war… I want to help the Kovalev side. I know things about my uncle’s operations. Contacts. Weak points. I’m not just a pretty trophy. Let me be useful.”

Maxim’s thumb strokes the back of my hand. “I’m grateful you want to help. Truly. But I cannot risk anything happening to you. You’re too important to me now.”

The words warm me, but frustration bubbles up anyway. “I’m not fragile. I grew up in this world too.”

“I know you’re not,” he says gently but firmly. “But you’re mine to protect. That’s not negotiable.”

I sigh, seeing the long game even through my irritation. Pushing right now won’t help. He’s in full protective Pakhan mode. I squeeze his hand instead.

“Okay,” I say. “For now. But I’m not going to just sit on the sidelines forever.”

A small, proud smile tugs at his lips. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

The tension eases. I glance down at the chessboard. “Want to play? A real game. Not against the AI. I think I might actually stand a chance against you when you’re tired.”

Maxim chuckles. It is a low, warm sound that makes my stomach flutter. “Bold claim. Alright. Set it up.”

We clear the board together and reset the pieces. The familiar ritual feels grounding. As we place each piece, our fingers occasionally brush. The air between us feels charged but comfortable.

“You can be white,” he says, gesturing to the side.

I grin. “Feeling generous this morning?”

“Confident,” he corrects, eyes sparkling with challenge.

We start playing. The game moves slowly at first, both of us testing each other. I make an aggressive opening, pushing my knight out early. Maxim counters calmly, but I can see the faint surprise in his eyes when I anticipate one of his moves.

“You’ve got game,” he murmurs after I capture one of his pawns.

“Been practicing against the engine while you were out,” I admit with a smirk. “Figured I needed every advantage against the great Maxim Kovalev.”

He laughs softly. “Keep talking like that and I won’t go easy on you.”

“Good. I don’t want you to.”

We play for nearly an hour as the sun rises higher, painting the apartment in warm gold.

The game is close. Closer than I or Maxim expected. I can see that Maxim is clearly tired, but his strategic mind is still sharp. I manage to trap one of his bishops, but he counters by threatening my queen.

“Check,” he says quietly, moving his rook.

I study the board, biting my lip. “You’re good at this.”

“So are you.” His voice is softer now. “You think several moves ahead. That’s rare.”

The compliment warms me more than it should. We continue playing in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds the soft click of pieces and our occasional breathing.

Eventually I lean back, stretching.

“Truce?” I offer with a smile. “I think we’re evenly matched right now.”

Maxim studies the board for another moment, then nods. “Truce. For now.” He reaches across and takes my hand again. “Thank you for this. For being here. For wanting to stand with me.”

I squeeze his fingers. “I’m trying. This is all still new… and scary. But I’m here.”

He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. The gesture is so tender it makes my chest ache.

We sit like that for a long time, our hands linked across the chessboard, the rising sun warming the room around us.