Page 47 of The Bratva Bosses' Nanny

“Nikolai,” he introduces himself with a courteous nod. “Zoe, my driver’s outside to drive you home.”

I’m taken aback, “What? She just arrived.”

He turns to me, and there’s a finality in his tone that doesn’t invite argument. “She can come back another time.”

Zoe, sensing the undercurrents of tension, quickly gathers her things. “It’s fine. I’ll—I’ll talk to you later, Emma,” she says.

She hugs me, a quick, tight squeeze and then she’s gone.

“Why did you send her away?” I ask, turning to Nikolai.

“We need to talk.”

Chapter 18: Lost and Found?

Nikolai

The living room feels like a stage, and Emma, with her pleading eyes, the reluctant star caught in the spotlight. I never wanted it to be like this, never wanted her to be a piece of the puzzle in a game she didn’t choose to play.

“Emma,” I start, my voice a blade cutting through the tension.

“Y-yes?”

I exhale sharply, a sound that feels like it’s been trapped in my chest for too long. “You need to be honest with me, Emma.”

“I am honest with you,” she insists, and I want to believe her—I do, but the stakes are too high.

I guide her to the couch, and we sit, the space between us charged with unsaid words. My hand finds her cheek, a gesture meant to comfort, to connect. “Emma, you need to tell me everything you know.”

She nods, a simple movement that carries the weight of her world. “I already have.”

“We’ve tracked down your sister,” I reveal, watching her closely.

“Kate? I didn’t know she needed tracking down. Is she okay?”

“She’s okay,” I assure her. Now comes the hard part, the push for truths that might be buried deep. “Now I need you to tell me exactly how you got this job, okay?”

Her protest is a murmur, a note of frustration. “I already told you—”

“I need every detail, Emma.”

“Okay,” she relents.

“After I graduated, I was looking for a job,” she begins, and I prompt her further.

“Why? Your sister is rich.”

“She is my stepsister, and yes, she helped me a lot during my college days. She paid my tuition; she even offered me an opportunity to co-own her salon, but I didn’t take it.”

“Why not?” I ask, genuinely curious about her resolve.

“I wanted my success to be unrelated to her. I don’t want people to think I was successful because of her.”

I nod, understanding more than she might think. “And then?”

She shifts, her gaze holding mine. “I told her I didn’t want to work there. She was disappointed, but she said she’d support me and help me find a job related to my degree in child psychology. I looked on LinkedIn, applied to many jobs, but with no success. I didn’t have any experience, and they all wanted someone with at least three years of experience.”

Her frustration is clear, and I can’t help but listen intently.

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