Mile High Daddy: An Age Gap, Bratva Romance (Forbidden Silver Foxes)
Mile High Daddy: Chapter 16

The glow from my bedside lamp casts a warm, golden hue over my tiny apartment. It’s modest—one bedroom, a small kitchen, barely enough space to move around—but it’s mine.

I lie in bed, propped up against a stack of pillows, absently flipping through the pages of a novel I’ve read twice already. My body is restless, my mind drifting, unable to focus.

Ever since I hit four months, it’s been like this.

An itch under my skin. A heat that never quite fades.

At first, I thought it was stress, but I know better now.

I want.

I ache.

And no matter how much I try to ignore it, my body betrays me in the quiet hours of the night.

I shift under the blankets, pressing my thighs together as the tension coils deep in my stomach. My skin feels sensitive, my breath coming just a little quicker. I know where this is headed.

Because every night, it’s the same.

Every night, I close my eyes and dream of him.

I hate it. I hate him. But that doesn’t stop my traitorous mind from conjuring his image—Mikhail’s sharp gray eyes, the way his mouth feels against my skin, the way his hands own me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, frustration warring with desire.

But I lose the battle.

Slowly, my hand drifts beneath the waistband of my panties, my fingers brushing over the swollen heat between my legs. A sharp gasp escapes my lips at the first touch, my body already primed, already desperate.

My breathing hitches as I slide my fingers over my clit, teasing myself, imagining—him.

Mikhail pressing me against the wall, his body pinning mine, his voice rough in my ear.

Moya printsessa…you can run, but you’ll never escape me.

A shudder rolls through me, my thighs clenching as I rub slow, tight circles, chasing the pleasure that always comes too quickly now. I bite my lip, trying to muffle the soft moans that slip out. I imagine his fingers—long, strong, skilled—sliding into me, stretching me, making me beg. I imagine his mouth, the way he kisses, the way he takes what he wants.

The pressure builds.

Higher.

Tighter.

My back arches as the orgasm crashes over me, a strangled cry breaking free as waves of pleasure ripple through my body. My breath comes fast, uneven, my chest rising and falling in the dimly lit room. And as the aftershocks fade, the pleasure curling into something darker, I hate myself for it. I hate that even now, after all these months, after running as far as I could, he still owns me.

I roll onto my side, my fingers curling into the sheets, my heart still pounding. My breath has barely steadied when my phone buzzes violently on my nightstand.

I flinch, my body still sensitive, my pulse still erratic from what I just did.

I reach for the phone, my stomach tightening when I see Maggie’s name flashing across the screen.

It’s past midnight.

A call at this hour can only mean one thing—something is wrong.

I swipe to answer. “Maggie?”

“Leah,” she breathes, her voice frantic, barely above a whisper. “Oh my God, I—something’s wrong. I—I don’t know what to do.”

I bolt upright in bed, my heart lurching into my throat. “What happened? Where are you?”

“The party,” she gasps. “I—Leah, I need you to come get me.”

I shove the blankets off me, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I—” Her voice wobbles, and I hear the faint sound of voices in the background, music still thumping, though more distantly now. “I just need to get out of here. Please, can you—can you come?”

I don’t hesitate. “Text me the address. I’m coming.”

I end the call, my heart hammering as I shove my feet into my sneakers and grab my sweater off the chair. My hands shake as I pull it on, my body already moving on autopilot.

Maggie sounded terrified.

I don’t know what happened, but I do know one thing—I can’t go there alone.

For a split second, I consider calling my mother, but I dismiss the thought instantly. She’d never make it in time.

Instead, I scroll through my contacts, my finger hovering over Alex’s name.

I’ve never texted him before—or talked to him outside of work.

But right now, I don’t have a choice.

Me: Alex, I need a favor. It’s urgent.

The message sends, and I barely have time to put my phone down before it vibrates again.

Alex: What’s wrong?

I swallow hard, typing fast.

Me: It’s Maggie. She’s at a party. She just called me—she sounded scared. I need to go get her, but I can’t go alone.

His reply is instant.

Alex: Where?

I exhale sharply, relief washing over me as I glance at my other messages. Maggie sent me the address. I copy and paste it into our chat.

A second later, his response comes through.

Alex: I’ll pick you up in five. Be outside.

I clutch the phone to my chest, exhaling shakily. I have no idea what I’m walking into.

But I know one thing—Maggie needs me.

And I’m not letting anything happen to her.

The night air is cold when I step out of my apartment, my arms wrapping around myself for warmth. My heart pounds in my chest, the tension thick in my veins as I scan the darkened street.

The town is quiet, as it always is at this hour. The streetlights cast long shadows against the pavement, and the only sound is the distant hum of a car approaching.

Then, headlights swing around the corner. A sleek black sedan slows in front of me, the passenger window rolling down.

Alex.

His dark eyes are locked on mine, his face unreadable as he leans toward the steering wheel. “Get in.”

I don’t waste a second. The moment I slide into the passenger seat, he shifts into gear and pulls away from the curb.

For a few beats, neither of us speaks.

I grip the edges of my sweater, my stomach coiled tight. “Thanks for this,” I say, my voice quieter than I intended.

Alex flicks a glance at me, his expression serious. “Tell me what’s going on.”

I exhale sharply, tapping my fingers against my thigh. “Maggie called me out of nowhere. She sounded scared—really scared. She just kept saying she needed to get out of there.”

His jaw tightens. “The party.”

I nod. “Yeah. It’s that guy…Ryan, the one who came into the café today. He invited her.”

Alex makes a sound—low, almost annoyed. His grip on the steering wheel tightens.

“I don’t like it,” he mutters.

Neither do I.

I glance at my phone, checking for new messages. Nothing from Maggie yet. My stomach twists. “Do you know anything about him?” I ask carefully, watching Alex’s reaction.

He doesn’t answer right away.

His fingers drum once against the wheel. “No. But guys like him? They don’t just show up in places like Camden Hill without a reason.”

A shiver creeps down my spine.

I already know that. I know what it’s like when powerful men move in silence, when they orchestrate things from the shadows.

Men like Mikhail.

And now, my best friend is at a party thrown by someone who sets off every instinct I have.

The road ahead darkens as we move further from the town center, the streetlights growing sparser. We’re heading toward the outskirts, where the wealthier houses sit on wide plots of land, tucked behind trees and iron gates.

The address Maggie sent me isn’t some dingy college house—it’s a mansion.

Something isn’t right.

I glance at Alex again. His jaw is still clenched.

A long driveway stretches ahead, lined with parked cars. Music pulses in the distance, lights spilling out from massive floor-to-ceiling windows.

“We go in, we get her, we leave,” I say.

Before I can press him, he puts the car in park, exhales slowly, and turns to me. “You stay close to me,” he says.

I nod.

The bass from the music vibrates through my chest as we step onto the massive stone pathway leading up to the mansion. Warm lights spill out from the windows, illuminating clusters of people lounging near the entrance, smoking, drinking, laughing.

None of them seem worried. None of them look like my best friend just called me in a panic, begging me to come.

Alex walks a step ahead of me, his eyes sweeping the crowd. He’s tense, his shoulders tight beneath his hoodie, and I can tell he doesn’t like this any more than I do. We push through the front doors, and the party swallows us whole.

The house is even more extravagant inside than I expected—high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, sleek marble floors that look like they’ve never seen a scuff mark. Everything about it screams money. And the people inside match the decor—expensive, polished, dangerous.

This is something else.

A fresh wave of unease rolls over me as I scan the crowd. Where is she?

Then, suddenly⁠—

“Leah!”

I whip around just as Maggie stumbles out of the crowd, a drink in her hand and a wide grin on her face.

My stomach plummets.

She’s smiling. Laughing. Not in distress. Not in danger.

My hands clench into fists.

“You made it!” she squeals, grabbing my arm. “I knew you just needed the right push!”

Everything inside me turns ice-cold.

The phone call. The panic in her voice. The desperation.

All of it—a joke.

“You—” I inhale sharply, anger rising like a tidal wave. “Are you serious right now?”

Maggie blinks at me, clearly tipsy. “Oh, come on. You never go out! I had to get you here somehow.”

I stare at her, my pulse still hammering from the drive, from the fear, from the way I thought⁠—

I thought something horrible had happened to her.

And she’s standing here, laughing.

Like this is funny.

Alex steps closer, his jaw tight as he looks between us. I don’t have to see his face to know he’s pissed too.

“You think this is funny?” I ask, my voice dangerously low.

Maggie’s smile falters slightly. “I mean…it was kinda funny⁠—”

I don’t let her finish.

I turn on my heel and push through the crowd, heading straight for the exit.

“Leah, wait—” she calls after me, but I don’t stop.

My heart is still pounding, my body still wound so tight I feel like I might snap.

I can’t believe this.

I ran out of my apartment, called Alex for help, felt actual terror—and for what? Because Maggie thought it would be funny?

The cool night air hits me as I storm down the steps, my breath ragged.

Alex is right behind me. “Want me to take you home?”

I nod, my throat too tight to speak.

I feel stupid.

I let myself care.

I thought she needed me.

And I fell for it.

Alex doesn’t say anything as we reach his car. He pulls open the passenger door for me, waiting until I slide inside before shutting it with a little more force than necessary.

I don’t blame him.

I’m still shaking from the adrenaline, my fingers curled tightly around the hem of my sweater as I stare out the window.

Maggie joked about needing help. She dragged me out here with a lie. But my gut is still twisted, a lingering unease coiling in the pit of my stomach.

Alex slides into the driver’s seat, the soft click of the door closing punctuating the silence. He exhales through his nose, gripping the steering wheel before finally speaking.

“That was messed up,” he mutters.

I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. “You think?”

He doesn’t start the car right away. He just sits there, watching me, his brows furrowed slightly. “You okay?” he asks.

I nod, but I don’t feel okay.

“I just want to go home,” I say, my voice tight.

Alex doesn’t push. He just shifts the car into drive, pulling away from the mansion.

The night is quiet outside, the streets empty as we move further from the party, away from the pulsing music and the expensive suits, away from Ryan and whatever the hell that gathering was actually about.

I try to relax, but my nerves are still on edge. I check my phone—no messages from Maggie, but a new one from my mom:

Still safe?

My stomach clenches.

I type back a quick Yes before locking my screen.

I glance at Alex. He’s focused on the road, but his jaw is taught, like he’s thinking too hard.

“What?” I ask.

He hesitates before answering. “That guy…Ryan. Did he seem off to you?”

My pulse skips. “Yeah,” I admit. “Why?”

He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but I can tell he’s thinking hard. “It wasn’t a normal college party.”

“No,” I agree. “Not even close.”

I lean back, watching the trees blur past. “I don’t get it. Why would some rich guy show up in Camden Hill, throwing parties for a bunch of college kids? It felt so…” I trail off, struggling to replace the right word.

“Calculated,” Alex finishes.

I frown. “Yeah.”

The people there didn’t feel like normal partygoers. The way they moved, the way they watched, like they were waiting for something.

Like it wasn’t really about the party at all.

Like it was about who showed up.

Alex exhales, rubbing his thumb over the steering wheel. “I saw you notice it too. Those guys by the bar. They weren’t drunk. They weren’t even drinking. They were watching.”

A shiver creeps down my spine.

I nod slowly. “I noticed.”

“And Ryan?” Alex adds. “Maggie might think he’s just some finance guy, but I don’t buy it. He doesn’t fit.”

I glance at him, my stomach twisting. “What do you mean?”

Alex flexes his fingers against the leather steering wheel. “I know people like him.”

There’s something in his tone that makes me pause.

I study him carefully. “Like him…how?”

Alex doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he presses his lips together, like he’s deciding whether to tell me the truth.

“He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t end up somewhere like Camden Hill by accident.”

I don’t like the way that sounds.

I cross my arms, staring out the windshield. “Do you think Maggie’s in danger?”

Alex is quiet for a beat too long. “Not yet.”

I snap my head toward him. “Not yet?”

He finally looks at me, his dark eyes unreadable. “I don’t like people who pretend to be something they’re not. And Ryan? He’s pretending.”

A cold feeling washes over me.

I think back to the way he watched me in the café. The way his gaze lingered a second too long, like he was assessing something. And then the way the party felt off, like I had stepped into something I wasn’t meant to see.

I shudder. “Maybe I should talk to Maggie. Make sure she’s being careful.”

Alex nods, turning his attention back to the road. “Yeah. But be subtle. If Ryan is dangerous, we don’t want him knowing we’re onto him.”

The thought makes my skin crawl.

The car rolls to a smooth stop in front of my apartment complex. The street is quiet, the dim glow of a nearby streetlamp casting shadows across the pavement. I let out a long breath, my fingers still curled tightly around the hem of my sweater. My mind is still racing from the party.

Alex hasn’t shut off the engine yet. Instead, he rests his hands on the steering wheel, his dark eyes flickering toward me with something unreadable.

I exhale sharply and try to force a smile. “Well, at least the night wasn’t completely terrible. I mean, now I have a new mystery to solve.”

Alex’s expression hardens instantly.

“Leah.” His voice is quiet, but firm.

I blink at him. “What?”

“Don’t.”

I huff out a laugh. “I was joking, Alex.”

He doesn’t laugh.

He doesn’t even smile.

“If something doesn’t sit right with you, trust that instinct,” he says, his voice low and serious. “But that doesn’t mean you should go looking for trouble.”

I tilt my head, studying him. “You think Ryan is dangerous?”

His jaw clenches slightly. “I think we don’t know who he is. And until we do, I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

The protectiveness in his tone throws me off guard.

I swallow, shifting in my seat. “I wasn’t planning to do anything reckless.”

Alex scoffs. “That’s what people always say before they do something reckless.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, Dad.”

His lips twitch like he wants to smile, but the tension in his shoulders doesn’t ease. After a long pause, he exhales slowly and grips the wheel a little tighter. “Just be careful, okay?”

Something about the way he says it makes me pause.

Like he’s not just talking about tonight.

Like he’s been careful before. Like he knows what it’s like to be too close to something dangerous.

I want to ask, but I don’t.

Instead, I nod. “I will.”

His gaze lingers on me for another second before he finally nods and shifts the car into park.

“Goodnight, Leah.”

I hesitate before opening the door. “Goodnight, Alex.”

I step out into the cool night air, shutting the door behind me.

As I make my way up the steps to my apartment, I resist the urge to glance back.

But I don’t have to.

Because I already know Alex is still watching.

And for some reason, that thought doesn’t unsettle me as much as it should.