Page 17 of The Bratva Bosses' Nanny

“Why did you do this Aleksandr? You enjoy this?!”

Her eyes are two blazing infernos, but I don’t flinch. I meet the heat head-on. “You think I enjoy this shit? That I get off on scaring women and children? This is how we survive, Emma. This is how we ensure loyalty.”

Her restraints clink as she struggles, the sound grating in the hollow room. “And what if I hadn’t stayed calm? What then, Aleksandr? You willing to risk a child’s life for your sick games?”

I unlock the cuffs, releasing her from the chair. “A calculated risk,” I acknowledge, my voice a low growl. “But you proved yourself, didn’t you? You’re stronger than you look.”

She rubs her wrists, the fire in her gaze not diminishing. “If you ever—”

“Save it,” I cut her off with a hard stare, stepping into her personal space, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her. “Next time, it might not be just a test.”

“Motherfucker!” she explodes, her palm meeting my cheek with stunning force. “Do you know how scared I was? Did you think about that?!”

I grab her wrist, halting her next strike before it lands. My fingers circle around the delicate bones, her green eyes wide with shock at the contact. My anger flares outward, a seething inferno spreading through my body like liquid fire.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she tries to pull away, but I have her.

“Calm down, Emma.” I say as I look deep in her eyes. Her chest rises and falls, then she’s suddenly still, her mouth opening slightly in a gasp. She says nothing, but I don’t need her to. I can feel the tension leave her body, feel the weight of her worry become bearable.

The fine veins of her wrist beckon, remind me of how fragile and breakable she is in this moment—how vulnerable. The guard I normally keep up when I’m with a woman is gone, slipping away as her soft skin yields beneath my fingers. I feel the blood throbbing under my thumb, feel the beat of her pulse. Suddenly, I crave that sensation more than anything.

I drop her hand, stepping back before I can do something I can’t take back. I lash out with words, knowing it’s betterto hurt her with words than actions. “You proved your worth Emma. Don’t be afraid now, no one can hurt you.”

“You think this makes me valuable to you? Being scared shitless?”

I don’t back down, my face inches from hers. “Fear is a luxury we can’t afford. It keeps you alert, keeps you alive. You’ve got to be tough, Emma. Tougher than you ever thought possible.”

Her breath hitches. “Are you done intimidating me?”

She challenges me. It’s new, I didn’t know she had this fire in her. I don’t hate it.

It’s then I notice a thin line of red trickling down her arm.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

I reach out, not as the Bratva boss, but as a man who can’t ignore the primal urge to protect. I take her arm gently, examining the small gash. It seems she was injured in the chaos.

“You’re hurt,” I state.

“It’s nothing.” She tries to pull away, but I don’t let go.

“Gentle was the fucking order,” I growl more to myself than to her, frustration flaring at the thought of my men getting carried away. “I’ll deal with them later.”

Anything but perfection means punishment.

I pull her forward, not caring about the blood smearing all over my hand. She is shaking. She’s probably afraid of me. I need her to know I’m not what people say. I need her to feel the truth of it.

“I won’t hurt you, Emma.” That’s not who I am. I rub my thumb over the cut, trying to clean up the blood.

I pull her closer, and she winces when my hand makes contact with her wound. The sight of her blood on my skin doesn’t faze me—it’s not the first time I’ve been stained. But it’s the first time I’ve felt anything about it.

Her skin is soft, contrasting the roughness of my own hands.

She looks up at me, her eyes searching. “Why? Why all of this?”

I release her and step back, needing the distance to regain control. “Grace.” I exhale. “Turns out she was a rat. And since she is the one who hired you—”

“You wanted to test me.” She cuts me off, darting her gaze around the dirty warehouse.

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