Page 38 of The Bratva Bosses' Nanny

“Hey,” My voice is barely above a whisper.

Aleksandr looks up, a droplet trailing down his face. “Hey.”

“Aren’t you cold?” It’s a stupid question, but it’s all I’ve got.

He chuckles, a deep sound that seems to travel straight through the chilly air. “It’s not cold.”

“It’s literally October,” I retort.

“So what?” He grins, that flirty edge in his voice making my heart do somersaults. “I need to get some exercise in either way, right?”

Right. Exercise. I swallow hard, my mind racing. Am I really standing here, getting all flustered over exercising with the Bratva?Focus, Emma. Grace. You were going to ask about Grace.

I’m trying not to shiver as I watch him, the cold seeming his ally, not his foe. “Uhm. I was going to ask you something,” I tell him.

He raises an eyebrow, water sluicing down his face. “Sure.”

“What happened to Grace?” I manage to say, even as he hoists himself out of the pool in one fluid, almost artistic, motion. His physique is on full display, and for a second, my words get stuck somewhere in my throat.

“She was fired,” he says casually, reaching for a towel.

“Just fired?”

“Yes. Why do you care?” He’s not looking at me, focused on drying himself off.

“My sister, Kate. She’s been worried about her.” I watch his movements, the towel now looped around his waist.

His face hardens, that easy demeanor vanishing like a mist. “How does your sister know Grace?”

“Well, apparently they met in college. Years ago. Small world, right?” I offer him a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

“Small world, indeed.” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Something shifts in the air, and I can feel the change in him. “I know Grace was a rat. Nikolai told me. I figured she’d be fired but,” I pause for a second, thinking of what to say next. “D-did you harm her?”

“We don’t harm anyone who doesn’t deserve it, Emma.”

It’s a warning, subtle but clear. I shouldn’t probe too deep. Dead or not, some truths are better left buried.

“So, now that you guys don’t have an assistant anymore, will that role be filled soon?” I push, trying to steer us away from dangerous waters.

“You’re asking too many questions again, Em.”

‘Em’. The nickname sends an unexpected warmth through me, a sweetness that seems at odds with the man before me. It’s disarmingly endearing, and for a moment, I forget the cold.

“Let’s get you inside. You’ll catch a cold,” he says, with a seriousness that almost makes me laugh.

This man, who was just in the pool, is worried about me getting cold? It’s absurd, yet, okay, it’s kind of sweet. I’ll give him that.

He guides me back into the warmth of the mansion, his hand resting gently on the small of my back. The touch is protective, possessive, and it sends a cascade of goosebumps skittering across my skin. Oh, hell.

“What did you say the name of your sister was?” Aleksandr’s question pulls me from the warmth of his touch.

“Kate. Kate Madden,” I reply, the cold slowly receding under his questioning gaze.

He frowns slightly. “Thought your surname was Blanks.”

“Ah, yes. We have different dads. It’s a long story,” I say, feeling the weight of my family history.

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