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While Anya was distracted, fiddling with her colored pencils, I rose on my toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "Really good," I whispered, surprised at how natural it felt, how intimate. The realization hit me like a wave, and I blushed hard, feeling like we'd been married for years.

His eyes sparked with surprise, then softened, a deeper warmth settling in them. "You sure know how to start a guy's day right," he teased, his voice low.

"You really cook?" I asked, eyeing the spatula in his hand, still trying to wrap my head around it.

"Don't look so shocked," he chuckled. "I'm not just some boss barking orders. When Anya was little, she got sick a lot. Docs said she needed light meals, so I learned to whip up a few things."

He slid the eggs onto a plate with a grace that made it look like an art form. Then he leaned in close, his voice dropping to a husky whisper only I could hear. "Besides, I like taking care of my woman."

My pulse spiked, heat creeping up my face. Even simple words from him carried a magnetic pull, making my knees weak.

"Daddy, Miss Monroe, come see my bunny!" Anya's excited voice cut through the moment, snapping us out of our bubble.

We joined her at the table, where she proudly held up a drawing—a chubby pink cartoon bunny with long ears, childish but bursting with charm. "What's this bunny's name?" I asked, sliding into the seat next to her.

"P??????!" Anya declared, beaming. "'Cause Daddy always calls you P??????, so the bunny should be that too!"

I glanced at Gennady, catching a flicker of embarrassment before it melted into a fond, helpless smile. Anya had known his nickname for me all along.

"Where does P?????? Bunny live?" I asked, leaning in.

"With us!" Anya clapped her hands. "Like Miss Monroe lives with us now! We're a family!"

Family. The word hit me like a bolt of lightning, sparking something deep in my chest. I looked at Gennady, and he was watching me, his green eyes carrying a weight I wasn't ready to unpack.

"Yeah," he said softly, his voice steady but heavy with meaning. "We're a family."

That confirmation sent a rush of warmth through me, so strong it almost hurt. I knew this might be temporary, that our future was a tangled mess of uncertainties, but in that moment, I let myself believe it was real.

The table was set with Gennady's handiwork—perfectly fried eggs, golden toast, and fresh fruit smoothies, simple but thoughtful. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, bathingus in a warm glow. Anya chattered away, Gennady occasionally chiming in with a gentle "Don't get too wild, kid," and I just sat there, soaking it all in, my heart swelling with a quiet, sweet contentment.

This was the life I'd dreamed of. Simple. Warm. Full of love.

After breakfast, Anya had a big idea. "I wanna plant flowers!" she announced, practically bouncing. "Miss Monroe and Daddy, you gotta help!"

Gennady glanced at his phone, a few unread messages lighting up the screen, but when he saw Anya's hopeful eyes, he pocketed it without a second thought. "Alright, little princess," he said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "We'll plant flowers."

The back garden was even more stunning than I'd imagined. Neatly trimmed lawns stretched out, dotted with vibrant flowerbeds, the air sweet with the scent of blooms. Sunlight filtered through sycamore trees, painting the ground in dappled patterns. It was alive, vibrant, a world away from the danger outside.

Anya raced to the tool shed, dragging out a pile of gardening gear—a tiny shovel, a watering can, and a packet of flower seeds. "Daddy, you take this," she said, shoving a comically small pink shovel into Gennady's hands. "Miss Monroe, you get the watering can."

I couldn't help but laugh at the sight of him holding that toy shovel, his towering, commanding presence reduced to something so absurdly domestic. The contrast—the fearsome mob boss turned gardener—made my heart do a little flip.

"You two are turning me into a damn landscaper," he grumbled, but his eyes were soft, brimming with indulgence. "I've got important meetings, you know."

"What meeting's more important than planting flowers with Anya?" I teased, snatching the shovel from him with a playful smirk.

He looked at me, then let out a low chuckle. "You're right, Cassie. Nothing's more important than this."

We crouched by the flowerbed Anya had picked out, digging into the soft earth. The sun warmed my skin, lazy and comforting. Gennady shed his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves to show those strong forearms again. Every time our fingers brushed while passing tools, a familiar electric jolt shot through me, stirring memories of last night—his hands on my skin, claiming me.

"Careful, you'll get dirt on your clothes," he said, his voice soft with that familiar care.

"Don't care," I replied, focused on scooping soil. "Clothes wash."

"But your hands…" He grabbed my hand, inspecting my dirt-streaked fingers with a frown. "This rough stuff's not for you."

His sudden tenderness caught me off guard, making my chest tighten. In his eyes, I was always something to protect, to cherish.