Page 18 of The Bratva Bosses' Nanny

“Exactly.” I lock eyes with her, ensuring she sees the seriousness in mine. “You understand the stakes now?”

She nods, a touch of exasperation coloring her features. “I passed your test. So, what now?”

I fold my arms, considering her. “Next, we ensure this never happens again.”

“And if I don’t like it?”

“Then you’re free to leave,” I say bluntly. “But know this, if you stay, you’re one of us. And we protect our own.”

“And Alina? What about her?”

“She’s the reason we’re all here,” I say, feeling a rare tug in my chest. “She will always be safe.”

Emma’s stance relaxes, a silent acceptance of the truce I’m offering. “Alright, Aleksandr. I’ll stay. For her.”

“Good.” I nod once. “Now come, let’s go.”

I extend my hand towards her. She hesitates for a second. But then, takes it.

We don’t speak as we walk to the car. Maybe we don’t need to. I open the passenger door for her. She gets in.

She moves to strap herself in, but I’m faster. “I’ll do it,” she insists sharply.

“I’ve got it,” I say, and despite her protest, I click the seatbelt into place.

The drive back is quiet, the silence a living thing. Every few minutes, I glance over. She’s angled away from me, legs pointed toward the door, arms crossed, gaze fixed on some distant point outside the window.

She’s pissed, her body language screaming it louder than any words could. I get it; I’d be pissed too. But what she doesn’t understand is necessity. The necessity of trust, of loyalty.

I make a promise to myself as I drive—this won’t happen again. Not to her, not while she’s under my protection. Because that’s what I do. I protect what’s mine, and whether she knows it yet or not, she’s under that umbrella now.

Emma storms out of the car as soon as it rolls to a stop.

She’s a good ten paces ahead of me before I even hand off the keys to the valet.

“Emma!” My voice cuts through the air, but she doesn’t slow down, doesn’t even look back. She’s furious, and I can’t blame her.

By the time I step through the front door, she’s halfway across the foyer. Dmitri and Nikolai are there, watching the scene unfold with varying degrees of concern and annoyance. Emma shoots Dmitri a look that could curdle milk, and he justgives a slight shake of his head—a silent accusation thrown my way.

I know he was against this from the start. Dmitri’s the type to trust his gut, and his gut told him Emma was solid. But Nikolai and I, we needed proof. Now, we’re reaping what we sow.

Emma disappears toward her room, Dmitri follows at a cautious distance, probably to attempt some damage control. I stand there, watching them go.

I let out a slow breath, turning to meet Nikolai’s gaze. “We’ll give them a moment,” I say, and he nods. We both know this isn’t over—it’s just the beginning.

Chapter 8: Lips Don’t Lie

Dmitri

I rap on Emma’s door, my knuckles hitting the wood with more force than I intend. “Emma?” No answer. I knock again, a bit softer. “Emma, I want to talk to you.”

Silence, then a muffled response from the other side. “There’s nothing to talk about, Dmitri. Just go.”

I pause, my hand resting on the door. I could walk away, let her stew in her anger, but that’s not my style. “I won’t leave until you open the door, Emma. Just open the door, please.”

There’s a rustling, the sound of footsteps, and then the door swings open. She’s standing there, her face drawn, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Fuck, I feel a surge of protective anger, the urge to confront Nikolai and Aleksandr for putting her through this.

“Can I come in?” I ask, keeping my voice even. It’s the least she deserves after the hell we’ve dragged her through.

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