Page 51 of Nanny for the Bratva Daddies

“You’ve only just met me,” I point out with a flat smile. “It took me hours to calm Dariya’s tears last night after we met him. She’d been so excited, and he brushed her away with such open irritation. My heart breaks for her. She has this dream of her grandfather in her mind, built from half memories when she was younger and stories that filled the gaps in his absence.”

My wandering path over Zasha’s chest takes me down to the rippling valley of his abs.

“Reality was much harsher for her; all she wanted was her dad.”

“Is that a rising motherly instinct I hear?” Zasha teases with a warm smile, leaning back up onto his elbow. “And I thought you were just a nanny.”

“Get lost.” He pulls a deeper smile from me, and I shove him back down onto the bed in retaliation. Maybe it is a touch of motherly love. I do love Dariya and that’s never something I’ve questioned. “Anyway, enough about me. How are you feeling?”

Zasha taps two fingers to his temple. “The fog is thick,” he says in a low voice. “I remember more of my torture. No faces, just pain; but in some ways that helps. Mystery scars now have meaning. Something about Fyodor too but it’s…unclear.”

“I’m sorry.” Unable to fathom what it must be like to be missing memories and only remember sensations. I lean down and press my lips to his. It’s a slow kiss, gentle in how my lips move over his.

“Do not apologize,” Zasha murmurs into the kiss. “It is not your fault.”

“I wasn’t apologizing for fault.” The kiss ends. “Merely offering my sympathies because—oh shit!”

As I lean up from the kiss, my wandering eye catches the ornate clock on Zasha’s bedside table, and I’m late.

“What is it?” Zasha’s on the defensive like the snap of a rubber band.

“I’m late,” I gasp, flying from the bed and pulling the blanket with me in search of my underwear. “I have to go serve lunch to the new lord.”

“Then I will dream of you in your absence.”

After a long day of playing servant to the new horror that is Vladimir Dunayevsky, I retreat to one of the scarcely used bar rooms near the back of the mansion and pour myself a straight shot of vodka. I’m usually a fruity girl. I love the sweetness of cocktails, and I much prefer to hide the sharp, bitter taste of alcohol. After today, I’ll make an exception.

The bottle clinks against the polished surface. I pick up the shot, take a deep breath, and throw it back in one smooth motion. Screwing up my eyes, every sense and thought screeches to a halt. The only sensation that exists is the burn of the vodka, like the sharp rip of a Band-Aid.

I slam the glass down, suck air in through my teeth and open my eyes.

“Hey.”

“Oh fuck—” Alarm jumps through me with the force of a slap as Daniil appears before me on the other side of the bar. With only one light on behind the bar, his glasses look oddly small in the reflected light.

“Sorry.” Daniil’s lips pull into a small smile.

“You scared me!” I glance behind him, having not even heard the door. “How did you know I was even in here?”

“I have my ways.”

Squinting at him, I nudge the bottle of vodka. “Drink?”

“Sure.”

“Did you put Dariya down?” I pour him a shot into the same glass I just used, then slide it toward him.

“Yes. She was restless, but she fell asleep eventually.” Daniil picks up the glass and downs the shot smoothly.

My attention lingers on the long line of his throat and the smooth way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. When his head drops forward once more, a few strands of hair slip loose and brush across his forehead.

“I wish I could have been there. I couldn’t get away from Vladimir until he finally decided to go to bed himself.” Rolling my eyes, I move around to the other side of the bar next to Daniil. He takes my hand the moment I’m close enough, and a spark of excitement rushes across my skin, leaving gooseflesh in its wake.

“I’m sorry. How he treats you is atrocious, and you don’t deserve it. Not for a second. He gets an opinion in his narrow fucking mind and then there’s no changing it.”

Lifting my hand, I cup his cheek and tsk softly behind my teeth. “Don’t. We’re both just playing the part until Fyodor is back, and then everything will go back to normal. I’d give him a piece of my mind if I wasn’t certain he’d hurt me.”

“I’d never let him.” Even behind the sunglasses, Daniil’s sharp gaze bleeds through. “Not even for a second.”

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