Page 35 of The Bratva Bosses' Nanny

Nikolai throws his hands up. “How the fuck should I know?”

I let out a heavy sigh, the fight draining out of me. “I’ll go get Emma. What were you thinking, leaving her at her apartment alone?”

It’s a mess—a tangled web we’re all stuck in, and now Emma’s right in the middle with us. We’re supposed to protect her, but we’re barely holding our own.

Suddenly, Emma walks in through the front door, with Aleksandr.

She doesn’t meet our eyes, scratching at her head like she’s trying to physically scrape away the awkwardness.

“Hey, Emma,” Nikolai’s voice cuts through the silence, his tone neutral but his eyes following her every move.

“Hey,” she replies softly. “I’ll go check on Alina.”

“Alina’s sleeping,” I interject before she can escape.

She pauses, caught in her tracks, and there’s a moment where I can almost hear her heart beating against the thick silence. “Then... I’ll go to my room,” she decides and makes a beeline for the door.

Nikolai turns to Aleksandr. “Where the hell have you been, Aleksandr?”

Aleksandr doesn’t flinch. “I was out there protecting Emma, who, I might add, you left alone in her apartment.”

Emma pauses at the door, her back still to us, a silent spectator to the unfolding drama.

Nikolai snorts. “Protecting? Or were you giving her another reason to be afraid of us?”

Aleksandr turns sharply, his gaze like steel. “Does your way of making her feel safe include your bed?”

Nikolai’s face tightens, the muscle in his jaw working. “What Emma and I do—”

“It’s not just about you and Emma,” I interrupt, stepping in before this can spiral into a full-blown altercation. “It’s about all of us. It’s about Alina.”

Aleksandr folds his arms. “Look who’s talking.”

I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks at the sting of his words. He’s right—I’m hardly one to talk, but this isn’t the time for pointing fingers. It’s about more than our personal feelings or missteps.

“Listen,” I say, addressing them both, “We’re in this together, whether we like it or not. Our choices, our actions—they don’t just affect us; they affect Alina, they affect Emma. They affect the very ground we stand on.”

A door slams with a sound which echoes like a shot in the silence, a punctuation mark to Emma’s exit.

“I’ll go talk to her,” I say, already moving towards the sound. This isn’t just about smoothing over ruffled feathers; it’s about keeping us stitched together when everything seems hell-bent on tearing us apart.

Aleksandr’s voice follows me, laced with a cynicism that feels like a slap. “Yeah. Talk.”

Just what the hell is wrong with him today?

I make my way to Emma’s room. I hesitate for a second before opening the door and stepping inside. “Emma,” I begin, the name feeling both familiar and foreign in my mouth.

She doesn’t turn to look at me, her voice tight. “What do you want, Dmitri?”

“Did Aleksandr hurt you?”

Her laugh is hollow, bitter. “Is that the standard greeting now? Assessing the different ways you guys can hurt me?”

I flinch at the accusation, knowing she’s not just talking about physical harm. “Emma, that’s not fair.”

She spins around, her eyes searching mine. “Fair? Tell me about fair, Dmitri. Why didn’t you tell me about Sergey?”

“Who? Nikolai, of course.”

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