Page 87 of Nanny for the Bratva Daddies

“She’s in the hospital and then, for some reason, things just went to shit, and I still don’t fully know how. Accusations were flying, and everyone was so angry. They think Zasha had something to do with the shooting and then they found out who I am, who I really am. Mom, they know about you. Who you are, where your family is from.”

She tosses a spoon into one cup and spins to face me. “Our family,” she says bitterly. “You may hate me, but you cannot deny where you come from.”

“Fine. Our family.” I’m far too exhausted to argue.

“They didn’t kill you?” There’s no emotion in her voice. I want to hope that when we stopped talking, she expected that outcome and made her peace with it and that’s why she sounds so cold. I know the truth. She detests me for her own reasons and that’s that.

“No, they didn’t kill me, because they love me.”

Cups clatter against saucers and the kettle rumbles to a boil.

Holy shit.

In the tragedy of it all, I hadn’t even realized that was the truth, but Daniil’s words come back to me. He did what he did to protect Fyodor and himself because they loved me.

They love me.

I love them.

Does Zasha feel the same?

Bitterness sweeps through my mouth as I remember the gunshot.

I’ll never know.

And it doesn’t matter because there is nothing left. That family is gone. Destroyed. What love was once there is nothing but a dream now.

Love won’t save me. It won’t save anyone. The pain turns to barbed wire inside me and I wince.

“And,” I say, finally voicing my last secret. “I’m pregnant.”

That catches her attention. My mother turns to me and sets two cups and saucers down on the table.

“You’re pregnant?”

I nod while she sits in the chair next to me, then she places her hand over mine.

“Who is the father?”

“What?” I sniffle as her fingertips press firmly against the back of my hand. “I don’t know who the father is. That really isn’t important right now.”

“Oh Naomi.” My mother smiles, but it’s void of warmth—merely a curve of her lips. “You have no idea how important that is.” Standing, she returns to the counter and picks up the tea pot.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you have any idea how valuable that baby would be if it belonged to Zasha, or Fyodor? That alone would be enough to give anyone a first-class ticket to power.”

“What the hell are you saying? That’s not the point! It’s not a ticket, it’s a baby! My baby,” I snap, drawing my hands away from the table and setting them in my lap. “I don’t care who the father is. I’m…I’m heartbroken and lost and I was even worried about you because they know who we are now, as Yenins. They might come for you and you don’t even care?”

“They won’t come anywhere near me, and if they do, then they will learn what everyone learns.” She sets the teapot down.

“And what’s that?”

“That the Yenins are not to be messed with. Honestly, Naomi. What did you expect? Did you really think you come clean on your own terms and you wouldn’t face any kind of consequences?” She tsks softly behind her teeth. “Perhaps it’s lucky the truth all came out yesterday.”

An uncomfortable shiver crawls up my spine and what lingering nostalgic warmth I felt for this place immediately dries up.

“What are you talking about?”

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