Page 48 of The Bratva Bosses' Nanny

“Then she said she found a job for me. I mean, her friend Grace did, I guess.”

“You said Grace and your sister were friends, right? How come?” I press, seeking the missing link.

“She never gave me the details. She only told me she knew her from her university years.”

I can’t help but chuckle, a sound that seems to startle her.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, a frown creasing her brow.

“Grace dropped out when she was in high school,” I reveal, watching as Emma’s face shifts from confusion to the dawning realization of inconsistencies in her sister’s story.

“What? You think she is lying?” Emma’s voice trembles, a mix of disbelief and fear.

“She is,” I state plainly, leaving no room for doubt.

Her eyes widen, the possibility of her sister’s deceit clearly never having crossed her mind. “You won’t hurt her, will you?”

“Not if she is innocent,” I reply evenly. She already knows the stakes.

Emma nods, a silent acceptance of the harsh truth.

“And you are the one to prove that, Emma,” I continue.

“Me? How?”

“You’ll talk to your sister, and you’ll prove she is innocent,” I say, my voice leaving no room for negotiation.

“How am I going to do that?”

“You’ll be wired,” I tell her, and I can see her hands tremble at the very idea.

“Emma, look at me,” I say firmly, reaching out to gently lift her chin, guiding her gaze to meet mine. “If she is who wethink she is, she’s dangerous, Emma. She’s killed many of our men.”

“What are you saying, Nikolai? She would never do such a thing!” Her denial is fierce, protective, but laced with an undercurrent of doubt.

“Then why did she lie to you, Emma?”

“I- I don’t know. Maybe she got it mixed up? Maybe Grace was the liar. She told her she was in college or something. I really, I—” Her words break off as her composure begins to crack, her mind racing to find a logical explanation where there seems to be none.

She is panicking, and I can’t stand by and watch her unravel. I reach out, taking her face gently in my hands, forcing her to look at me, to see the promise of protection in my eyes.

“Look at me, Emma. You’re safe here. We’d never let anyone hurt you. Not even your sister.” My voice is firm, a port in the storm I can see brewing within her.

Her gaze lingers on my lips for a fraction too long before meeting my eyes again, a clear sign she’s regained some composure.

“But you need to tell me something, Emma. Would you still choose us over your sister?”

“If she’s as dangerous as you say, I’d choose you. But that doesn’t mean I’d let you hurt her,” Emma asserts, her voice steady but soft. Her loyalty to her sister is evident, even now, even as she tentatively places her trust in us.

I feel a surge of respect for her. It’s one thing to choose sides when the lines are clearly drawn, but it’s another to do so when the lines blur into family ties and love.

“She won’t be hurt, I promise,” I assure her with as much conviction as I can muster. It’s a bold promise, and one I intend to keep.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes never leaving mine. I can feel the tension between us growing thicker, until finally and nervously, I lean forward and press my lips against hers. Her body stiffens for a second before melting into mine as we fall further into the kiss. Our mouths move in perfect sync as if choreographed to do so for centuries.

Our kiss deepens until we both pull away, gasping for air. Emma’s eyes are wide, and her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted as she tries to catch her breath. I can feel the heat radiating off her skin, and I know I want her more than anything in this moment.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, my voice husky with desire.

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