Page 10 of The Bratva Bosses' Nanny

Dmitri nods slowly, taking in the information. He then turns to me. “You are drunk, Aleksandr! Leave the room. Now.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” I walk towards him.

He doesn’t break my eye contact.

“I can and I will. You’re in no state to be making decisions right now. Go to your own room and sleep it off.”

I clench my fists, but I know he’s right. I turn on my heel and leave the room, slamming the door shut behind me.

Despite the thickness of these walls—or lack thereof—their voices seep through, carrying fragments of a conversation I shouldn’t be privy to, but can’t ignore.

I hear Dmitri’s voice, softer now, “Emma, did he hurt you? Did he touch you in any way you didn’t want?”

“No, Mister Dmitri, I—I’m fine,” Emma replies with a shaky voice. “It was just a misunderstanding, but thanks for asking.”

From my room, the door not fully closed, I catch snatches of Dmitri’s voice, softer, more intimate than before. “Emma, if you ever need anything or feel uncomfortable, you can always come to me, okay?”

“Thank you, Dmitri,” her voice sounds touched, maybe a bit relieved. “I’ll remember that.”

“Do you want me to find another room for you?” Dmitri’s voice is so damn considerate it annoys me.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll stay here for now. Aleksandr knows this is my room, so I don’t think there will be any more issues,” Emma replies.

“Alright. Sleep well, Emma.”

“Goodnight, Dmitri.”

I hear footsteps fade away, and I realize I’ve been clenching my fists the whole time. I take a deep breath, my head pounding in rhythm with my accelerated heartbeat. When did I get so damn lightweight? I collapse back onto my bed, but sleep, it seems, is going to be elusive tonight. I keep replaying the scene in my head, Dmitri’s soft, protective tone, Emma’s relieved response, and it all leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

Dmitri bursts into my room, and I’m immediately on edge. “Ever heard of knocking?”

“Obviously, you haven’t,” he snaps. “Really, Aleksandr? Harassing that young girl? You scared the shit out of her. And you’re drunk!”

He crosses his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched.

His voice escalates, and I can see the veins on his neck standing out, a clear sign he’s genuinely pissed.

“Yeah, well, I thought that was my room, okay?” I shoot back defensively, struggling to get my swirling thoughts in order.

“No, she’s inherroom, which you barged into. Don’t make this about her; this is on you.” Dmitri’s voice is icy now, controlled but seething.

I don’t have a good comeback. Deep down, I know he’s right. But my ego, and the alcohol clouding my judgment, won’t let me admit it.

“Just get out, Dmitri,” I finally growl.

“Not until you promise to leave Emma alone. She’s here to work, not to become another one of your distractions. Also, don’t forget about theFrostbitetomorrow.”

As if I could. I’ll think about that motherfucker tomorrow.

I don’t answer, but the look on my face must tell him enough. He huffs, shakes his head, and finally leaves, closing the door hard behind him. I’m left alone with my thoughts, which are anything but pleasant right now.

My thoughts drift to Emma. Poor thing.

Her eyes, wide and filled with both fear and a hint of something else. Perhaps, innocence. And, if I’m honest, it fuels my desire.

She was so vulnerable, yet feisty, and despite my less-than-commendable actions, I can’t get the image of her out of my mind. The way she clutched the sheets to cover herself. Her flushed face as she looked up at me. I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this; it’s wildly inappropriate given our roles in this house, and my current state. But I can’t help it.

I toss and turn in my bed, trying to rid myself of these thoughts. But, no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake Emma from my mind. It’s like a fever that’s taken hold of me, and I’m helpless to resist its pull.

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