Page 38 of Sins He Taught Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 3)

I don’t think Nikolas knows what to do with me. From what I’ve learned from the other members of the household staff, he’s been through a handful of nannies. But none of them have said why the women before me didn’t work out.

I wonder if he senses that I’m not here for a paycheck, or even of my own free will. I’m here for my dad and only my dad.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t have a soft spot growing for this solemn little boy already. I can’t help it—that ovaries squealing sensation reaches a fever pitch whenever I hear him groaning in the middle of the night and rush into his room to find him caught in yet another nightmare.

He quiets down as soon as I get there most of the time, although I remember from somewhere that you’re not supposed to wake up someone having night terrors. You just sit with them, touch them softly, and try to help them find their own way out of it.

That’s what I do with Niko. I’ve done it every night since I got here. I’m exhausted from getting so little sleep myself, but whenever I start to feel truly sorry for myself, I remind myself yet again that I’m here for my dad.

I’ve been trying out different bedtime rituals, hoping one of them provides a fix for Niko’s nightmares. Tonight, wearing the pajamas that Matvei had one of his men retrieve from my apartment, I head to the boy’s room, ready to read Niko to sleep.

As I approach his bedroom, however, I hear a deep voice speaking slowly. I poke my head around the corner for a second to see Matvei sitting on the side of Nikolas’s bed, already reading to him. I bite my lip and stay quiet, watching.

I’ve just come into the middle of the story, but it seems to be about a boy that survives on his own in the wilderness when his parents lose track of him while camping—a little on the nose, to be sure, but sometimes that’s what it takes.

Nikolas stares up at Matvei with wonder in his eyes, the same way he looks at me while I read, and for the first time since the night of my arrival, Matvei doesn’t seem like this big, evil mob boss.

He seems almost… human.

He’ll occasionally makes animal noises for the characters as he reads, and every time, Nikolas giggles. I feel my heart flutter at the sound of the two of them laughing together—ovaries squealing, most definitely.

In moments like this, it’s easy to forget that I still have no clue what’s happening. Who’s the prisoner and who’s the warden? I shudder and try to put those thoughts ahead. Keep your head down, do your time, and get out, I say to myself again and again. Maybe I’ve watched The Shawshank Redemption a few too many times.

At the end of the book, Matvei looks up and says, “See how Johnny put the knife away and only used it when he needed?”

Nikolas nods.

“That’s because they’re not toys at all. They’re very dangerous, and if you’re not careful, you can hurt yourself. He’s talking to you, Niko. You have to stop playing with my pocketknife, okay? You don’t want to hurt yourself, do you?”

I know what he’s talking about. Nikolas has had a fascination with Matvei’s switchblade pocketknife lately. Not in like a serial killer way—he isn’t vivisecting frogs or skinning cats or anything nearly that morbid. He just likes playing with it. He gets this faraway look in his eyes every time I discover him with the knife in his hands. Like he’s dreaming of something he lost, something he can’t quite properly remember.

Nikolas tilts his head to the side. “My daddy had one like it. Yours looks like his.”

Matvei nods. “That’s because the same man that gave him his gave me mine.”

“Oh. Can I have one?”

“Maybe when you’re older,” he says solemnly. He sets the book down on the nightstand and flicks off the light. “For now, you have to go to bed. No nightmares tonight.”

Matvei turns around. As he does, his eyes meet mine. I swear my heart stops. Quickly, I hide behind the corner, kicking myself for eavesdropping for so long.

A moment later, Matvei closes the door and turns to face me. “You shouldn’t be spying.”

“I’m sorry. I just came down to read and saw that you were already reading him a bedtime story. He really likes that one.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know what it is about him and the knife. Is that … should I be worried?”

Matvei shakes his head. “Just keep an eye on him. He’s been getting into my desk often. Takes my knife and opens and closes it like it’s a toy.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t find it,” I promise.

“Good.” Matvei seems uncomfortable, probably because I’ve caught him at such a vulnerable moment.

“I should be going to bed,” I say, my voice quiet.

Matvei’s eyes roam up and down my body, pausing on my chest just a moment too long. I cross my arms and slouch, shooting daggers in my gaze. He only smirks back at me, not an ounce of remorse in sight.

“Yes,” he whispers, reaching forward and delicately adjusting the shoulder strap on my cami. I feel naked and vulnerable in front of him. My heart thuds in my chest. “We should both be getting to bed.”

Just like that, Matvei leaves me standing in the hall once more, wringing my hands and biting down on my bottom lip. I don’t know what the hell has gotten into me, but the part of me that wishes he would’ve slipped the strap off my shoulder instead of back on is getting louder and louder. I need to get it together.

This is a job. Niko and I are captives. Matvei is a criminal.

Before I give myself another moment to fantasize about him, I hurry back up to my room and close the door for the night.

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