That day, you showed up unannounced.

Anatoly’s personal assistant nearly choked on his coffee when he saw you step into the private elevator—tiny handbag in hand, wearing a tight cream knit dress that clung to your delicate curves… and slightly revealed the baby bump beginning to show.

Everyone on the executive floor knew you were “his little stepsister.”

But none of them knew.

That beneath all that—you were the only woman he had ever allowed to sleep in his bed. And now, you were carrying his child.

His office door swung open. He was sitting there with his jacket off, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, face focused on his laptop screen… until his eyes caught sight of you.

Silence.

Then he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. His lips curved—sharp, wicked, lethal.

“The little one came without permission,” he murmured. “How bold of you.”

You scoffed playfully, placing your bag on the sofa before sauntering toward him with that teasing sway in your step. “You didn’t answer my call this morning”

Anatoly turned to face you fully. “I was in a meeting.”

“You didn’t say ‘good morning’,” you pouted.

“Because your mouth was full of cream cheese from that bagel,” he replied flatly. “And you refused to kiss me.”

You had reached him now. Without a hint of shame, you plopped down into his lap, making his chair shift slightly.

He didn’t push you away.

His arm wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you close—like he was afraid you’d vanish if he didn’t.

“And, you can’t always be this busy,” you continued, voice whiny, sulky, and endearing. “I’m alone at home. I’m hungry. The baby’s hungry too. Do you think I can survive without Daddy?”

Anatoly closed his eyes slowly.

“Don’t call me that here,” he muttered.

You grinned, grinding your hips just a little against his lap, drawing a low growl from him.“But you are my Daddy, aren’t you?”

He opened his eyes. Stared at you—full of dominance, barely hiding the madness of his love.

“If you keep squirming on my lap like this, in my office, calling me Daddy” His hand slid down to your thigh, caressing gently beneath your skirt.

“I’ll lock this room and make you cry again. On my desk.” You feigned a gasp, mock-fearful—but your arms were already wrapped around his neck.

“I don’t mind sitting on Daddy’s lap all day,” you whispered cheekily. “As long as Daddy feeds me. And—”

Your words were cut off by his kiss—deep, hot, dangerous.

Then, right at your lips, he whispered,

“You’re pregnant with my child, sitting on my lap… being all clingy and bratty like this”

He gripped your chin tightly.

“Who’s going to save you from me now?”