Page 30 of Nanny for the Bratva Daddies

Kissing Dariya’s forehead, I smooth down her hair and pat her cheek. “Have good dreams.”

“Goodnight,” Dariya yawns, snuggling down under her blanket.

As I move to leave the room and turn the light off, I’m two steps from the door when Dariya speaks again.

“Naomi?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Who was the new man?”

I pause and turn fully back to her, one hand on the door handle. “What man?”

“The one I saw, with the long hair.”

My heart sinks slightly. In all the commotion with Zasha and then fucking Fyodor, I hadn’t even considered that Dariya might have seen any of it.

“He’s…one of my friends. He’s not too well right now and fell, hitting his head. He’s going to take some time to rest here, though, until he’s better.”

“Okay.” Dariya nods, then turns over and cuddles into one of her numerous teddy bears that line her bed. I blow her a kiss and step outside, closing the door softly behind me.

“Good cover.” Daniil pushes up from where he was leaning against the wall and slightly adjusts his glasses. Daniil’s been my shadow ever since Fyodor and I stepped out of the laundry room earlier today. Despite my assurances that I’m certain Zasha won’t hurt me—and can’t since he’s under lock and key—Fyodor chose to increase security and take no chances. He’s lucky his protective streak is so attractive.

“It’s half true,” I point out, falling into step beside him as we head down the hallway, leaving two guards outside Dariya’s room.

“You aren’t friends.”

“Out of everyone here, I’m the closest thing to it.”

“Hmm. You know, I saw the strangest thing today.”

“Other than Zasha?” I chuckle softly and bite back a yawn. It’s been a long day, and my body aches from sex with Fyodor. Sinking into bed tonight is going to be amazing.

“I’m certain I saw some naked people writhing in the kitchen surrounded by all that water.” Daniil’s lips curl up slightly. “So reckless given the broken sink, don’t you think?”

Warmth floods my cheeks, and I groan, pressing the back of my hand against them. At this rate, I need to buy a stronger foundation.

“You saw that?”

“I saw enough,” Daniil chuckles.

“Are you mad?” My stomach twists into knots. This situation is far from easy but that hasn’t stopped me from feeling slightly guilty about what I did. Giving into a fantasy like that is one thing, but the last thing I want to do is hurt anyone.

“Why would I be mad?” Daniil asks, holding a door open for me.

“Because of what we did,” I remind him, unsure if he’s forgotten. His warmth envelops me briefly as I slide past him. “When we played together.”

“I’m not mad,” Daniil clarifies softly. “We’re both hot-blooded men; it’s more exciting this way. Don’t you think?”

Before I can respond, he opens the next door to the study and strides inside leaving me to quickly gather myself before I follow.

He treats it like a game, but maybe he’s right. He and Fyodor. It’s just a bit of fun, right?

Smoothing my hands down my shirt, I step into the study and close the door behind me.

Zasha sits in a lone chair at the far end of the room, looking a little worse for wear. The T-shirt he wears is a size too big for him, despite his muscular stature, and it only adds to how forlorn he looks. His long blond hair hangs like rat tails around his head, somewhat dirty looking and blood streaks run down his arms and dot his clothes.

Alarm pulses through me and I dart forward.

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