Page 5 of The Bratva Bosses' Nanny

I scoff at the joke, but deep down, I know that easing up isn’t an option. Not in our world. And certainly not when there’s a stranger walking around our home, no matter how ‘vetted’ she is.

“You do what you want,” I say, my eyes never leaving his. “But I’ll sleep better when I know she’s as loyal as she needs to be to keep us all safe. Until then, keep your fucking stress ball.”

Nick chuckles, but his look tells me he understands. “Fair enough. I’ll get my guys to start the next phase of vetting. And Aleksandr—”

I arch an eyebrow, inviting him to continue.

“You might want to give her a chance. For Alina’s sake, if not your own.”

I hold his gaze for a moment longer, weighing his words. Then, without a word, I turn and head back to the privacy of my own space, contemplating the tightrope we’re now walking. Loyalty, betrayal, trust; they’re a dangerous mix, and one false step could bring everything crashing down.

Chapter 3: Room For Error

Emma

Grace is showing me around. Her short ginger hair is perfectly styled. She’s the epitome of corporate chic, right down to her icy demeanor. She must be their assistant or something. Whatever... business they are running.

“This is the main living area,” she says, waving dismissively at the opulent space adorned with crystal chandeliers and rich fabrics. “You won’t spend much time here.”

Yeah, no kidding.

“Upstairs are the private rooms. You’ll never go there. I’ll think of a room to give you. The kitchen is that way,” she points indifferently, “but you won’t need to cook. We have staff for that.”

I raise an eyebrow. “So, what is it that I’ll actually be doing?”

“Taking care of Alina. That’s your sole focus.”

“Got it,” I reply, even though I’m not sure I entirely do. “And what about the other people in the house? Nikolai, Aleksandr, and Dmitri. Will I be interacting with them?”

Grace chuckles, a sound devoid of warmth. “Interacting with them? Trust me, you’re not equipped to handle those three. They don’t do ‘interaction’ unless it serves them.”

“Oh,” I say, the single syllable heavy with unspoken thoughts. “So, basically, stay out of their way?”

“Smart girl,” she says, her eyes narrowing as if challenging me to contradict her. “Stick to your duties, keep Alina safe and entertained, and you’ll be fine. Try to involveyourself in matters that don’t concern you, and you’ll find out quickly that this isn’t the place for you.”

Then Grace adds, a sardonic smirk curving her lips, “Though, to be honest, I’m still not convinced you have the skill set for even that much.”

Her words are a sharp jab, a clear attempt to rattle my confidence. “I assure you, I’m fully capable of doing my job.”

“We’ll see,” she says dismissively, already turning on her heels to leave. “Remember, you’re easily replaceable.” She sizes me up and down, her glare cold as ice. “Alina is in her room. Go find her and make yourself useful,” she finishes.

I clench my fists. God, I want to punch her in the face.

Then she leaves, her footsteps echoing down the opulent hallway, leaving me standing alone in this cavernous room. The tension in the air slowly dissipates, but her words linger, a stark reminder of the razor’s edge I’m walking here.

Replaceable, huh? I tighten my grip on the folder. We’ll see about that.

I take a moment to collect myself. Replaceable or not, I have a job to do. With a deep breath, I head down the corridor Grace had pointed to earlier, looking for Alina’s room.

I knock gently on the wooden door. The door creaks open, and there she is. A petite little thing with big, curious eyes.

“Hi, Alina. I’m Emma. I’m going to be taking care of you.”

She studies me cautiously, then finally nods and beckons for me to come in. I take that as my cue and step into her world. I immediately notice the depressing nature of the room. It’s spacious yet... empty. No toys, no drawings, just a bed and a dresser. Alina is wrapped in a blanket like a cocoon, only her eyes peeping out.

“Where are your toys, sweetie?” I ask, hoping to break the ice.

She looks at me, puzzled. Right, she might not understand English.

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