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“When we return, we’ll help you put everything together.” I kissed the top of Yelena’s head.

“Or you and I can while we put an apron on Stas and banish him to the kitchen.” Yuriy pushed off the counter. “You just live that soft life, printsessa. Uncle Yuriy’s got you.”

Attraction turned to hate so fast at the way he appropriated my nickname for my daughter. Where did he get off trying to charm her into liking him?

“Don’t call her that.”

He rolled his eyes, slapping his hand on my shoulder as he walked past. “Relax, man. Yelena’s got enough love to share. I’ll change. In the meantime, maybe have a cup of coffee to take some of that grump off.”

He disappeared down the hall, leaving behind the faint smell of dish soap and mockery.

I can’t believe I thought I was attracted to that ass.

“Want me to pour you a coffee, Papa?” Yelena started to get to her feet, but I gently eased her back down in the chair.

“You don’t need to get me anything.”

“Okay, but do have some coffee. I’m not sure what Yuriy put in it, but it’s so good.”

“Probably cyanide,” I grumbled, going over to the coffee machine and plucking a mug from the rustic mug tree stand next to it.

“Papa, don’t be like that. He’s really making an effort.”

“I just don’t see what’s so great about making coffee?” I muttered under my breath as I poured myself a mug.

Then I took a sip.

And froze.

“Son of a bitch.”

Of course he made delicious coffee that woke my taste buds up. I wanted to pour it down the sink, but fuck, it was too good, and I needed my coffee first thing in the morning.

Yelena laughed, her eyes dancing. “Told you so. There are breakfast burritos in the oven that should still be warm.”

“Let me guess? He made them too?”

“No, Zasha ran out to get them before he went off to work.”

At least he was taking care of my baby girl. The more time I spent with them, the more my resentment for the young man who had taken my daughter away from me faded. Every time I saw the way he looked at her, patient and steady, some old piece of bitterness in me cracked loose. I’d spent years convincing myself no man would ever be good enough for my little girl, yet here he was, proving me wrong with every quiet act of care.

And Yuriy… damn him, he made it harder to hold on to the anger. Between the two of them, my walls were coming down one brick at a time, and I didn’t know whether to be grateful or afraid.

We were better off as enemies. Enemies made sense. Enemies had rules. Friendship? Our men would never stomach it. A truce they could tolerate only because it was carved in blood and bound to a grudge older and darker than anything Yuriy and I could ever hope to fix.

Whatever grew between us was dangerous, forbidden, and already too alive.

I grunted, setting the mug down and sinking into the chair beside Yelena.

She reached over, touching my hand. “I’m thrilled you’re here. And that you and Yuriy are getting along. I was so nervous about it, but it’s all turning out for the best.”

I didn’t trust myself to answer, so I nodded and took another sip.

“You know,” she went on, “I’m too pregnant to do much right now, and Zasha’s working right up to me giving birth. Then he’ll be on paternity leave. So if you and Yuriy want to get out of the house and do something together, that’s fine by me. You don’t have to sit around keeping me company. Arty is just a call away.”

The thought of being alone anywhere with Yuriy again made my pulse quicken. I didn’t appreciate it at all. The only way to get rid of these feelings was to distance myself from him.

“How much does Arty know about us?” I asked.