Page 18 of The Bratva's Nanny
If or when I got ahold of Irina, she was going to fucking pay for leaving Polly all alone out there.
I inhaled and looked up. “That’s why I want you to be a bodyguard, an instructor, and a nanny to my baby. I want you to bring the Academy here, to my home. To Polly.”
In a quick flash, her anger simmered, and she looked baffled. “What?”
“Isn’t that better?”
“What…what do you mean by ‘isn’t that better’?”
Her tone.
My eyes narrowed. “Only a few minutes ago, you were vexed about my decision to withdraw her, and now, you’ve got a problem with tutoring her here?”
Her mouth fell agape, and she blinked, wearing a comical mask of disbelief. “God, I love Polina like she were my own sister. But what you’re asking from me is a whole lot.”
Eerily, she paused, as if considering something. She was no longer looking at me now. Her fingers were shaking and they journeyed all the way up to her throat, like she was recounting a memory.
Knowing as much as I did, I knew what that throat grab meant. And as crazy as it seemed, not knowing this girl as much as I should, I didn’t like it one fucking bit.
“I have my life,” she mumbled. “My job, my…my…. God, I’m not sure I can—”
“Telling.”
She paused, then licked her lips slowly. The gentle swipe sent unwelcome signals to my brain, and I noticed how wet and pink it was. And how so fucking inviting.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Varkov, I didn’t quite catch that.”
Blanking out the image of her tongue, I shifted on my seat, ready to indulge her even more.
“Telling,” I repeated more sternly. “I am not asking you to quit your fucking job at the Academy, Miss. Simmons. I am telling you, it’s already done. It has been from the second you walked through those doors.”
Her confidence slipped off like a piece of clothing, and beneath was nothing but vulnerability. She gazed at me, hazel eyes swimming with loathing and hurt; her breathing grew shallow, and her stubbornness struggled to hold tears in. “But I need the money.”
I maintained my composure. “You don’t have a fucking choice.”
Anger flashed, and hazel turned to a darker shade, like glowing embers. “This is not fair.”
My brows twitched. “Fair?” I scoffed. “You should be dead. Twice, you’ve watched me. Twice, you’ve been there. You are alive to tell two stories. And that should never happen. You’ve already seen too much. If I allow you to go through that door without taking my offer, it will be in a body bag.”
“This is blackmail!”
“So what, you want to cry?” I flashed a grin—mocking, taunting. Backing her up in a corner even more.
She gritted her teeth, and her jaw clenched, daring me to threaten her one more time. “I will not do this!”
Good thing I loved a challenge.
“I know everything about you, Miss Simmons. Where you live, where you work...daytime at PMAA and night shift at Rosy’s. I know about your father and the miserable life he lived in and out of bars. I know your father was a shitty, shitty man. Took a lot of bottles and couldn’t hold his own weight. I know he has a huge debt hanging on his head, even until he went to the grave. But…whatever the cost, I’m going to pay. All you have to do is take care of Polina full-time, and you’ll get a fat paycheck at the end of the month.”
The corners of her eyes tightened, and she gave me an even harder, more loathsome glare. “You don’t know the cost.”
I leaned forward. “I didn’t say tell me. I said I’ll pay.”
She kept quiet, but her eyes did all the talking. They were like mirrors, reflecting every thought going through her head. She was listing out reasons why she should not accept my offer, and I couldn’t blame her. I’d not exactly given her much to look forward to—no promised life of roses and rainbows.
Just work and payment of services.
Women like her were hard to persuade, even if I was convinced that it wouldn’t take long to make her crack.