Page 39 of The Bratva Bosses' Nanny

He looks at me, interest piqued. “I’d like to hear it.”

I inhale deeply and find a place to sit, the past ready to spill from my lips. “Well, okay. She’s from my mom’s first marriage, six years older than me. My stepdad, after he struck it rich, left my mom. He took my sister to raise, and well, my mom was left with nothing. Can’t blame the court for granting him custody.”

I pause, gathering the threads of the story. “Mom did her EMT training after that, became an ambulance worker. Then she fell in love again, thought he was the one. But after she got pregnant with me, he vanished. I’ve never even seen my biological dad. And Mr. Madden, my stepfather, I’ve only met him a handful of times. I’ve heard he married a young girl this year. His 4thmarriage.”

I catch his gaze, a hint of defiance in my smile. “You asked,” I say, the corners of my mouth turning up.

“That’s a rollercoaster,” he acknowledges, his eyes not leaving mine. “What did you say the name of your stepdad was?”

“Michael Madden,” I tell him, watching closely for a reaction.

He just nods, giving nothing away, the perfect poker face.

Feeling a bit exposed, I try to lighten the mood. “I feel like I’m being interviewed,” I chuckle, folding my arms in mock defense.

For a moment, a smile flickers across his face, and he unconsciously licks his lips, a quick, fleeting motion that somehow feels intimate in the silence of the room.

“I just want to know all about you,” he says, and there’s a sincerity in his voice that takes me by surprise.

I can’t help the chuckle which escapes me, a mix of nerves and disbelief. “Or you want to make sure I’m not a spy or something?”

He laughs, a deep, resonant sound that makes my stomach flutter. “I have enough spies to worry about, Emma. You’re safe.”

I relax at his words, feeling a bit foolish for even thinking he would suspect me.

“Good to know I don’t rank high on your list of potential double agents,” I quip back, finding a strange comfort in the banter.

He steps closer, and the room seems to shrink. “Emma, in this house, you’re many things, but a spy isn’t one of them.”

“And what are these ‘many things’?” I ask, my voice a whisper.

He leans in close, his breath hot on my skin. “You’re a temptation,” he murmurs, his lips grazing my earlobe.

“I, I don’t know what to say,” I manage to choke out.

“Say nothing,” he murmurs, his lips almost touching mine.

I close my eyes, willing him to close that infinitesimal gap, but he doesn’t. He pulls back, and I’m left chasing a kiss that never happened. I open my eyes to his retreating form, a silent protest rising in my throat. God, I hate it when he teases me like that.

“You should join me for a swimming session tomorrow,” he says, as if the charged moment between us was nothing out of the ordinary.

“It’s freezing outside. I don’t want to catch a cold. I could pass it to Alina or something,” I reply, trying to regain my composure.

He chuckles, “Don’t worry. I’ll heat up the pool.”

I can’t tell if he’s teasing or being literal, but something in his tone suggests he means both. “I’m really not sure. Is it deep?”

“It’s around 5 feet. You’re not that short,” he says playfully.

“What if I slip or something?”

“You don’t know how to swim?” He looks amused.

“Hey, don’t judge me. I didn’t grow up in a house with a huge swimming pool,” I say, a little defensively.

He chuckles again, “No, you didn’t. But you’re in one right now.”

“Right,” I falter, suddenly aware of another problem. “But I don’t have any swim suits.”

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