Page 33 of Nanny for the Bratva Daddies

“I…” I ache to be close to her. To wipe her tears and touch her chin, coax warmth back into those stunning eyes, and see those full lips pull into one of her familiar warm smiles. Maybe the real truth is the only option here—the only way to keep her.

For Dariya and for me.

“I was a hit man for my father, Vladimir. I grew up in the mafia to the point that we have generational wealth. The Dunayevsky name carries a lot of weight and influence in many circles, political and criminal. I had no particular interest in leading, but…” My throat closes slightly, and I pause.

Am I really about to pour my truth out to her?

“From a young age, I was pointed at someone and told to kill them, so I did because I knew no other way. There was no other way. That was my life, the only one I knew.”

Naomi presses her fingertips to her lips, failing to smother a gasp.

“My father led a bloody ship back then so to an extent, Zasha is right. The reputation of the Dunayevskys is bloody. My father dealt in blood and fear, and that’s how the world worked. I was content to kill when I was needed, but then my mother and brother died, and with my father’s ailing health I was forced to step into a stronger position. Instead of riding coattails, I was making the decisions.”

“You…had a brother?” Naomi asks hoarsely then her brow dips. “Never mind, I don’t care.”

“He was older,” I say tightly, ignoring the pulse of hurt that lingers at the base of my ribcage. The old, familiar ache of familial loss. “One of the last jobs I did for my father before I took over was a hit on a family who my father was certain had betrayed us. Mafia life is never quiet and bad people make the worst allies. They were absent from several important deals and according to my father, that spoke volumes about their lack of loyalty. He didn’t care if they were turning on him or if they were running some other gig. They had to die. So I was a good son and killed them.”

More tears spill past Naomi’s lashes, but she no longer wipes them away.

“It was then…that I learned why they’d been absent. They had just had a baby and spending time with their child was more important to them than anything else.”

“Oh God,” Naomi groans weakly. “Did you?—”

“No!” I snap harsher than I intend. “I would never. I just…” Pausing, I head for the door and close it behind me. Then, I approach Naomi and while I stay away from her, I end up closer and keep my voice low.

The words brimming on the tip of my tongue have never been told to anyone except Daniil. Given his prior family affiliation, that was an incredible risk, but I needed help. I swore never to tell another soul and now, here I stand, ready to tell Naomi just so she will stop looking at me like I’m some unredeemable monster.

Her face is unreadable, but her brow relaxes a fraction as the tears flow.

I take a deep breath and hold it, then the words come in a rush.

“I was consumed with guilt when I saw the child. It was like the veil pulled back and I saw my father for what he really was. How he saw his own truth and only his own truth. Nothing else mattered to him, only the fear he clung to. So I…I took the child as my own and forcibly removed my father from power. I couldn’t help anyone that suffered under his hand, but I could save lives by making sure he didn’t hurt anyone else.”

Naomi’s lips part slowly.

“Ever since then, I’ve been working hard to make up for the blood carelessly spilled under my father’s reign and bring loyalty through trust, not fear. It’s hard, and it doesn’t make up for the lives I took in the past, but I am doing it. I will continue to do it until the day I die.”

By the time I finish speaking, my throat is painfully raw as if I’ve just screamed for hours. The truth is dangerous and the weapon I’ve just placed in Naomi’s hands is the sharpest of them all.

“Wait,” Naomi breathes out as the pieces slot together behind her eyes. “That baby is…Dariya?”

I nod.

“But…you told me her mother died in childbirth?”

The band around my heart tightens at the reveal of another lie. “I lied. It’s what I tell anyone to explain why there is no mother. Because if anyone were to learn that Dariya was not mine then the target on my back would be huge. She’s my heir, the next step in my family line and set to inherit the entire Dunayevsky Estate. And, if she chooses to marry, that union would be one of the most powerful in the entire mafia. If people were to learn she was not mine, she would be killed. I would be killed. If not by my father, then by someone eager for power.”

“Her marriage…?” Naomi whispers softly, repeating some of the things back at me.

“I told my father that some random woman I fucked got pregnant and passed, and that the child came to me through the hospital. He went digging deep, but I knew enough to fake Dariya’s parentage. And…raising her is the only way I can earn the forgiveness of her parents.”

“The parents you killed,” Naomi murmurs, but there’s no venom in her voice.

I nod. Naomi trembles like a leaf, then she sinks down onto the stool next to her dresser.

“This is…a lot to take in,” she admits.

My heart pounds hard enough to crack ribs.

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