Page 89 of Nanny for the Bratva Daddies

“Who else,” I snort. “Fuck. Fuck. This is all so fucked.” Naomi is pregnant. She’s the only person in the house that could be, and I don’t think Vladimir would go this far trying to break Fyodor’s heart. This is too gentle of a blow to be a trick or part of any plan. It must be legit.

“What…what does this mean?” Zasha looks just as lost as I feel, although that could be from the blow to the head and the near-death experience in the pool. I take the test back and shove it into my back pocket.

“We’ll have to deal with this after. One thing at a time or we’ll lose everyone. Hurry up and get dressed.”

“Right.” Zasha spurs into action and he leaves the counter, dressing himself quickly in the dry clothes I found in the hamper when we entered the kitchen. He scoops his long hair back into a ponytail and secures it with a band while my mind runs in circles, trying to work out how the pregnancy fits.

Why didn’t she tell anyone? Is that why she went to the pharmacy yesterday? How could I have been so blind?

“Is it true,” Zasha begins, deftly buttoning his shirt. “Fyodor loves Naomi?”

I met his gaze. “Yes. I know it for a fact.”

“How?”

“Because I do too. And I know Fyodor. I’ve known him long enough that I know when someone’s gotten under his skin.”

“Fuck.” Zasha shakes his head and picks up his pistol. “Me three. Never thought I’d be sharing my love with my two enemies.”

“We’re still enemies?” I lift a brow. “I’ll put you back in that pool if so.”

“You know what I mean.” Zasha rolls his eyes. “Does this make us fools, or will it help us?”

“Depends if we can get through to Fyodor or not,” I mutter, sliding the safety back on my gun. “And I think I know exactly how to reach him.”

The plan to rescue Fyodor wasn’t intricate by any means. In fact, we chose the simple approach of locating where he was on the security cameras and then headed there, killing anyone who got in our way. All we had to do was get Fyodor to listen to me, and if that was successful, the second part of the plan—getting Vladimir to confess—would go easier.

With several of Vladimir’s men dead at my feet, I kick open the door to the study and stride inside with Zasha at my back. Fyodor is near the window, and he jumps at our intrusion while Vladimir sits at the desk as if he is once again, head of the family.

“What is the meaning of this?” Vladimir barks.

My heart aches the moment Fyodor’s eyes lock onto mine. He’s heartbroken, and the distress of his daughter’s condition is overruling any other logical thought in his mind. I can tell at just a glance. And I understand. Which is why I’m hoping he will listen to me.

The lone guard by the fireplace surges forward, weapon raised but I’m faster. I shoot him between the eyes and he crumples down dead on the Persian rug. Blood pools around his body when I step over him and face Fyodor. In the reflection of the glass cabinet to the left of Fyodor, I glimpse Zasha kneeling over the man I just killed, but it’s unclear what he’s doing.

I refuse to take my eyes off Fyodor to check.

“You son of a bitch,” Vladimir snarls. “I knew from the moment I saw you that you were nothing but a feral beast but if you are this incapable of taking orders and following the will of your—you!”

His wrinkled eyes widen when he finally clocks Zasha standing behind me and his gaze turns wicked.

“You see, Fio? One snake in your home has poisoned all the others. You dare to stand there and tell me Daniil is the most loyal out of all your men. See how the traitor still lives!”

I lift my gun and aim it at Vladimir, my gaze still on Fyodor.

Fury passes across his face like a shadow and he steps forward, angling himself between me and his father.

“Don’t you dare,” Fyodor growls. “Don’t you dare come in here and threaten my fa?—”

“Fyodor, listen to me!” I yell as loud as I dare, cutting him off. “You’re angry at the wrong people. I know you’re in pain. I know you’re hurting. Believe me, I know. But your father turning up here like this isn’t some kind of incredible change of heart to save you. All of this, it’s all him!”

Vladimir’s old teeth clack together in his indignation.

“I mean, sure. Maybe not Naomi but that’s a special case for…later, but everything else is him. Don’t you see? Please, Fyodor. You know me. I need you to trust me, okay? All of this shit is your father’s doing!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” There’s still fury in his eyes, and he still guards his father with his own body, but the question is what I need. The slightest hint of doubt.

“All this time, I couldn’t remember who was trying to kill me or even why,” Zasha says, moving around me. “Any theories I came up with just didn’t make sense because I’m a small fry compared to someone like you. Despite my best efforts.”

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