Page 22 of Nanny for the Bratva Daddies

“In the meantime, I’ll think about this Zasha situation. I’m certain there is a way we can turn this to our advantage.”

“He’s hurt,” I try lamely to appease her. “He’s not a threat.”

“His existence is.” She sets down her cup and picks up the black leather clutch from the table. “Are you getting soft on me, Naomi?”

I hesitate and her eyes narrow.

“Do your job,” she snaps darkly. “Or I’ll let slip to the wrong people that Fyodor has kidnapped Zasha, and who do you think they will look at as the rat?”

She stands abruptly and smooths down her pencil skirt while my cold sweat clings to my spine. She’s right. Of course she’s right. I’m in that home for a reason and it’s not to play house.

“You’ll take care of the bill, won’t you darling?” With a wave of her fingers, she departs leaving me completely torn between two truths.

What she tells me I should do and what I feel like I should do become a battle in my mind.

Maybe she’s right. Life in the Bratva is full of generational consequences. Can I really overlook the death and murder of my entire family because of a few cute smiles?

When I glance around the cafe and catch sight of Daniil at his table, his lips pull into a small, warm smile.

Yeah … maybe I can.

8

NAOMI

“Naomi!”

Two steps into the library and I end up with an armful of Dariya whose voice cracks as she cries my name. Her tiny hands clutch at my jeans and her thick curls bounce around as she shakes her head.

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Scooping Dariya into my arms, her wet cheek presses against mine when she slides her arms around my neck.

“Dad didn’t come to tell me a story last night, an’ he’s busy tonight too!” Fat tears follow her wailing, and she buries her face into the side of my neck.

Immediately, I rock her back and forth, soothing her gently while rubbing her back. “Oh sweetie, I know. I know he’s sad about it too because he loves to read to you, doesn’t he?”

He’s been so busy with Zasha I can’t blame him, and I’ve known him long enough to know that only truly important things keep him away from his daughter. Her little sobs pitch and she nods against me.

“He’s just very busy, but I know he’ll make it up to you. It’s okay to miss him and to be sad about it.” Dotted around the library, standing between the stacks of books, stands a few guards who now look incredibly relieved that they don’t have to deal with a crying child. It’s a little amusing. Carrying Dariya, I move to the plush, comfortable seats near the fire. Flames dance high behind safety glass, and the warmth is enticing as it chases away the cold clinging to my clothes.

What a day.

Sinking into the seat, Dariya slots perfectly into my lap as her tears finally begin to slow. My hand moves in circles, soothing her the best I can.

“How about we read a story instead?” I offer. “And then we can go and do some baking before bed? Does that sound like fun?”

Dariya turns her large, hazel eyes up at me and they shine with tears. The flames dance through her tears, casting shadows across her cheek as she nods quickly.

“Okay.”

It amazes me just how quickly her mood can change. Within two minutes, all traces of Dariya’s tears are gone as she tucks under my arm with a book in hand.

“Naomi?”

The familiar voice of Dariya’s tutor catches my attention. I tip my head back against the chair and glance up while he gives me a small wave and clutches his briefcase.

“Hey, is everything alright?”

“Yes. I'm just popping in to let you know I’ve given Fyodor a report on Dariya’s progress, and that’s me done for the day.”

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