Page 93 of Nanny for the Bratva Daddies

His gaze drops to my abdomen and I quickly wrap my arms around my middle.

“She lies. She’s good at that.”

“Come now. We both know she is telling the truth, and it will not do you any good to keep things from me, my dear. I am, after all, your only friend now.”

“I’m not your dear,” I spit. “And my mother lies. She is a liar.”

“Is she?” Ivan takes a single step forward. The clack of his cane on the stone floor snaps like a gunshot. “Should I have my guards strip you down and force a tube down your throat? They’ll pump so much water into you that you will swell up like a little balloon and then I will make them all watch as you wet yourself onto as many tests as I desire. We can see what they say, shall we?”

The horror he spews from his mouth is sickening, made worse by his casual tone. We could be discussing the curtains, and he would sound the same.

Clammy chills sweep down my arms and legs, and I curl my toes slightly against the stone floor. He would do it, wouldn’t he? I can only imagine the depths of his depravity, and from the glint in his eyes, I’m certain he’d get some sort of kick out of it.

“Fine.” I can’t play his games. “She’s telling the truth.”

“Interesting.” The cane smacks against the ground once more, then Ivan strides from the room. I spot one guard outside who refuses to look at me as he slams the door closed.

Silence envelops me and hot tears spring into my eyes. He wouldn’t do that, would he? He wouldn’t subject me to something so horrific just to prove a point…would he?

Daniil’s story pops into my mind, and I recall how his voice shook when he spoke of Ivan. Daniil is one of the strongest people I have ever met and even he showed signs of fear.

I’m going to die here.

I know it. Sinking down onto the mattress, I draw my knees up to my chest and cuddle them tightly. Then I press my face into my knees and cry.

I have ruined everything. Zasha is dead. Fyodor and Daniil hate me. My mother has abandoned me and now I’m here, locked up as Ivan’s prisoner. With a baby in my belly that deserves a whole lot more than I can ever give it.

Sorrow consumes me and I cry until I fall into a restless sleep filled with gunshots, waterboarding, and the repetitive clack of Ivan’s cane. The dreams keep me under until fire ignites in my belly. Ivans laughs, watching me scream and writhe as the flames consume me from the inside out.

I wake with a scream, jolting out of the nightmare and completely drenched in sweat. Hair clings to the back of my neck, and my heart pounds fiercely.

Holy shit.

Outside, the sky is a dark blue but it’s impossible for me to tell how long I was asleep for, or even how long I have been here. One thing that lingers though, is the fire in my belly, which sweeps low between my legs.

Fuck. I need to pee.

There isn’t even a bucket for me to use. I expect Ivan wants me to piss in the corner like some dog. As I run through my options, an idea begins to form.

Ivan will kill me. That I am certain of. Given the nature of his earlier threat, I can’t even imagine how terrible that death will be. If I am to die, if I am to fail at protecting my child, then perhaps it can be on my own terms.

My life was dictated by my mother. Vladimir tore my new family apart, and now I am here because Ivan wills it.

If my life is to end, then I want to choose how.

“Excuse me!” Knocking quickly on the door, I press my ear to the wood. “Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.”

“No,” comes the response.

“What do you mean, no?”

“You’re not to leave. This door is not to open.”

Fuck. Quick, Naomi think. Think!

“But I think I’m bleeding!”

There’s no response.

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