Page 47 of Nanny for the Bratva Daddies

“There are certain rules, certain laws that Bratva have to abide by regardless of stature. One of those is a certain meeting request in which two leaders from rival families can sit down for a discussion. No one can bring a weapon and if anyone was ever harmed at a meeting like that, every other family would rise up to wipe them off the map. Those old laws are the only things that maintain some kind of order. It also extends to other families like the Irish.”

Naomi nods, her curls bouncing. “So, Fyodor will be safe?”

“In theory,” I grunt, lowering the last weight. My palms complain so I rub them together. “Anyway, we’re keeping up the pretense that Zasha is dead, and we’ll keep him here so that whoever did this to him crawls out of the woodwork. Ivan, more than likely, had a hand. He’s not a bastard you forget easily and if Zasha remembers him, it’s not a good sign.”

My voice tightens as I speak, as much as I try to keep it light for Naomi. Her soft hand appears on my arm, instantly soothing the twisting sensation beneath my ribs. Turning to face her, my heart lifts. Her brow pinches together in worry, and her lips press into a flat line.

“Sounds like you have a personal beef with Ivan,” she murmurs, then her gaze drifts away from my eyes and down to my bare body.

I realize this is the first time she’s seen me without any clothes on. Each time we’ve been together, I kept my clothes on and when I fucked her, I made her face away. Now, there’s nothing between her and the countless overwhelming scars that cover my torso. They detail my pain, despite my attempts to bury them all under ink.

Her lips part and her hand drifts from my arm to lightly press against a long, thin scar that runs from my navel up to the left of my ribs. My breath catches in my throat, and goosebumps burst across my skin following her touch.

“Gross, right.”

“No,” Naomi murmurs without missing a beat. “But, why do you have so many?”

Catching her wrist before she can touch too many, I turn away. “Ivan.”

“He…he did this to you?” Horror drips from her voice and I keep my gaze averted, attention back on cleaning up the weights so I don’t have to see the pity in her eyes.

“I was born into a family loyal to the Shinskys; I was one of Ivan’s strongest attack dogs. One night I was requested to assassinate a rival family with the help of another man as a show of loyalty to Ivan, to help him get ahead in the race for power.” Ash floods my mouth and I move away from Naomi toward the bench, hurriedly wiping away the sweat I left on the leather.

“I ended up performing the hit alone as my backup didn’t show, only for me to be arrested and sent to prison. I expected to be out within a few months, given my proven loyalty to Shinsky and the power the Bratva has over law enforcement. But news reached me of my parents’ death and as the years ticked by, I realized I had been set up. You see, Bratva don’t remain in prison unless someone wants them there.”

“Are you telling me that the Bratva is above the law?” Naomi asks quietly.

“In a way. There’s an…understanding,” I explain, still keeping my distance. “Anyway, one night I was attacked, and it became clear I was stuck in there to die. People aren’t kind to Bratva in prison, and Ivan abandoned me. He was my Pakhan and was supposed to protect me, but he didn’t. Honestly, I’m not sure how I survived. Probably fueled by a hunger to seek revenge on the man who was supposed to be my backup but bailed. After a few years, I ended up befriending a few men loyal to the Dunayevskys who had been briefly arrested on some bogus charges, and it was through them that I struck up a new loyalty and strong friendship with Fyodor.”

My distractions are running out so, with my shirt in hand I turn back to Naomi whose face floods with sympathy.

“That friendship saved my life, got me protection inside, and then I was finally released after ten years. Fyodor took me under his wing immediately and our friendship was cemented when I saved his life within a week of walking free.” I chuckle softly at the memory.

“Ten years, Naomi whispers in disbelief.

“Fyodor has my unwavering loyalty, and I became his most trusted bodyguard and lieutenant. Hasn’t sated my desire for revenge though.”

“This world…” Naomi approaches me, and despite the tingling urge to pull away, I resist. “I had no idea your past was filled with so much pain.”

“Ask any member of the Bratva,” I say, breathing deeply to soak in her gentle floral scent. “They will have a similar story. This is why I respect Fyodor so much. He is trying hard to be different and end the cycle of bloodshed so common in our world. People like Ivan benefit from the bloodshed though, and with what’s happened to Zasha, who knows what we’re in the middle of.”

Her soft fingertips brush against my cheek, touching the bottom of my glasses. “Is this why you wear these? To hide the scars?”

I nod, and her eyes widen slightly.

“They’re not anything to be ashamed of.” Her other warm hand cups the side of my neck. “They show you survived.”

“And yet, I hate them,” I admit softly. “I don’t need my enemies to see them and think I am weak.”

Her eyes dart back and forth, studying my face, and then she nods as if she understands. Deep down, I know she doesn’t, and I hope she never does. I never want her to experience anything even half as painful as what I went through, but I appreciate her sentiment.

“The man who didn’t turn up to help you. Do you think he was in on it?”

I shrug, turning slightly into her touch. “No clue. But when I find him, I’ll ask him before I kill him. And then I’ll kill Ivan.”

Surprisingly, that doesn’t make her recoil away from me. Instead, she leans up and presses a sweet kiss to my lips, catching the swell of my lower lip. Just as I lean in to kiss her back, footsteps thunder down the hall and a guard clatters into the gym with his hair askew and his tie flailing.

Irritation sweeps up my throat. “What?” I bark.

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