Page 98 of Nanny for the Bratva Daddies

“We’re already launching a full assault on every territory he owns. His businesses will burn, his estates will crumble, and with the help from Zasha’s men, his entire little empire will fall.”

Suddenly, Dariya’s hand flexes lightly under mine, and my heart soars. The sting of exhausted tears rises behind my eyes and I clutch at her tiny hand.

Is it a sign that she’s okay, that she’s well enough for me to leave and save the love of my life?

There’s a lot of pain to heal but we will make it right. I will make it right.

“Then we go get her. None of us should be blamed for what we were forced to do. Naomi included. If she lets me, I will make it up to her.”

“We all will,” Daniil says, his mouth twisting. “I just…I hope he hasn’t hurt her.”

“If he has, I’ll skin him alive and hang him from his own fucking castle.” Rising, I lean over Dariya and press a gentle kiss to her warm forehead. Then I step away but pause a few feet from the door.

“Wait a second—you said he’s on a private island? How the fuck do we get there unnoticed?”

“Well, as it happens,” Zasha smirks. “I have a few boats and other toys gathering dust. Let’s go get our girl back.”

37

NAOMI

The days blur together.

After sharing one creepy meal together, Ivan locks me away in the room and seemingly forgets about me. My guard, pissed at being tricked, is the only person I see for two minutes as he shoves some food through the door.

It would be easier to track how long I’ve been here if the meals were consistent, but they appear to be at random.

It’s a strange sort of captivity where I’m left to my own devices in a room with absolutely nothing to do. Ivan doesn’t make good on any of his threats, not yet anyway. With only myself for company, there’s precious little I can do to pass the time other than think.

Fyodor, Daniil, and Zasha consume my thoughts when I’m awake and haunt my dreams when I try to sleep the time away. I picture their faces and replay their voices so often that things start to warp in my memory. Each time I focus on a detail, it seems to slip a little further from my mind. I expect it’s the right price to pay for what I did to them—for betraying them so terribly.

Knowing Zasha is alive though, brings me a small note of comfort. I pray that whatever went down at the estate after I left is enough to bring them all some kind of peace.

The hours claw by.

I watch the sky change colors through my window and try to track the time of day by the shade of blue that catches my eye, but it all becomes useless on a day when a storm rolls through. The gray clouds tell me nothing, and when I wake up and the world is still gray, I’m still confused.

I’m adrift in a timeless ocean and I’m going to drive myself crazy.

My only distraction comes from scraping lightly against the stone wall with my fingernails. Some of the plaster is old and it crumbles away under the lightest pressure. I start dramatically and try to score out how many days I think I’ve been here.

That fails when the seven strokes don’t line up with the three meals I’ve been brought. Unless Ivan plans to starve me to death, of course.

I miss my men.

Captivity brings an odd sense of clarity about the things I should have done. If I’d had the strength to tell Fyodor about who I was, maybe I could have prevented this. If nothing else, I should have told them about the baby. Dariya’s condition was tragic, it’s true, but maybe my baby would have been good news. A ray of hope to give Fyodor strength.

The pain of hindsight.

As another impossible hour drags by, I flop back onto the mattress and bite back a groan of frustration. Rehashing things in my mind is doing nothing good. I’m torturing myself for Ivan at this rate. But something needs to give. I don’t know what. I don’t care what. I can’t stay locked up in this damn room for another day with nothing to do.

Rising from the bed, I head to the door. The low light from ceiling lamp is my only warmth, and the dark sky outside suggests my current request is about to go unanswered.

“Hello?” I slam my hand against the wooden door. “Is there anyone there?”

No reply.

“Hello! I need—I need something, okay? I’m going crazy in here. I need something, a book to read or hell, I’d even just take some pens at this point. Hello? Can anyone hear me? Hello!”

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