Page 69 of Nanny for the Bratva Daddies

Things are looking up for everyone, and it warms my heart as we sit in the late May sun outside an Italian restaurant after a gorgeous meal.

“You know,” I say quietly, toying with the end of a breadstick. “It would be nice if Zasha could join us one of these days.”

“When people aren’t trying to kill him,” Daniil remarks. “Then he can come and eat all the pasta with us that he wants.”

“Well, his cast is coming off today, right? He’s basically back to being brand new, so why don’t you send him back to his family with some protection and then just wait for the culprit to make a move? Then you can catch them in the act.”

Fyodor lifts his head from where he’d taken over coloring in Dariya’s activity book when she ran to the playpen, and shakes his head.

“Your innocent outlook on things is to be admired.”

I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Sending Zasha back to his family would be like sending a lamb back to the wolves—some very smart wolves. If the traitor exists within his own people, then we have to assume they will be smart enough to bide their time. It could be years before they try again, and Zasha would be unable to do anything. He’d be stuck waiting for them to betray him, and no one deserves to live like that.”

“Although,” Daniil snorts, reaching for his wine. “Zasha is anything but a lamb.”

Fyodor chuckles and I smile, popping some of the bread into my mouth. “You know, it’s so cute that you all get along now.”

“Cute?” Even through his glasses, I can see Daniil’s distaste.

“Yes. I remember when you both were happy to leave him in the snow. Now you’re trying to protect him. It’s cute.”

Fyodor and Daniil share a glance.

“Let’s just say our perspectives changed.” Fyodor spins a crayon around his fingers.

“How exactly?” I ask, growing curious. Watching the friendship grow has been sweet but I’ve never known exactly why they changed their tune.

“You.” Daniil lowers his glass. “You can’t tell me that you didn’t notice.”

“Me?” I straighten up. “What did I do?”

“You asked Fyodor not to kill him and ever since then…well, we couldn’t stand to see you cry.” An easy smile graces his face and I toss the next piece of bread at him.

“You’re mocking me,” I pout.

“No.” Daniil pops the bread piece into his mouth. “Not at all.”

Before I can reply, Dariya comes sprinting back from the playpen with a guard in tow. She holds up a one-legged doll and thrusts it into Fyodor’s lap.

“Daddy, can I keep this?”

Fyodor bites back a laugh and holds up the toy that’s well past its best. “No, sweetie. You can’t.”

“Why not?” She whines and stamps her foot.

“Because we can’t take toys from public places. They don’t belong to us.”

As Fyodor explains it all to her, I rise and quietly excuse myself from the table and hurry off to the bathroom. Being out in public like this is perhaps my one and only chance to get access to the pregnancy test I need without anyone catching on. The last thing I want to do is spread any kind of false hope.

And it would be hope, I’m sure of it. Things are settling, and life is good. A baby doesn’t sound so scary anymore.

Using my phone, I huddle in the stall and scroll through my location to find the nearest pharmacy. There’s one right around the corner, and if I’m quick, they will barely notice that I’m gone. With the information secured, I head back to the table.

“I’m just going to nip to the pharmacy,” I say, grabbing my coat. “I just got my period, and I need some emergency pads.”

Daniil stands immediately so I hold out one hand.

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