Page 24 of The Bratva's Nanny
“No,” came curtly from the other side of the kitchen. When I questioned her with a raised brow, she ducked her head and focused on a pan full of brownies.
“There.” Polly pointed at the large pan Maria placed on the counter with a pair of red-checkered mittens. “Maria was just showing me how to bake those delicious little cuties, and, oh, Daddy! They are simply divine.”
A chuckle rolled at the back of my throat. “So, I was interrupting something.”
I expected Polly to laugh, shake her head, and agree with me like she normally would, but she didn’t. A pout formed, and the corners around her eyes grew slightly hard.
“It’s just that”—she licked her lips and stuck a finger into her mouth—“she refused to let me have more.”
“Wouldn’t be good for your teeth,” Maria butted in, her focus still on her precious brownies.
She didn’t seem interested in our conversation, deliberately tuning herself out. But I saw the pink flush on her cheeks when Polly talked more about her baking and praised her cooking skills.
With slow strides, I placed Polly gently on the island at the center of the kitchen. She leaned over, trying to steal one cool brownie from the tray it had been transferred to, but Maria’s side eye gave her pause.
“I’ve got to join forces with her on this one, baby.” I parted her lips with the fingers on my left hand, using the index on my right to tap her pearly whites. “You have to protect these babies.”
Her sass showcased itself. She mimicked the arc of my eyebrows. “From what?”
Honestly, the more the days passed, the more my admiration for my daughter swelled, with our similarities, her accurate intelligence, and, beyond all that, her unmatched beauty. She glowed, always, like the blinding rays of the fucking sun and was as pleasing as the sight of big, bright flowers in a meadow.
When she was born, Polina had stolen ninety-nine percent of the space in my heart and left the one percent for things she considered unimportant. My baby was my world, and I made sure nothing changed that.
Maria reminded us that she was in the room when she spoke up, her voice resonating with more warmth than I could muster. “Getting rotten, that’s what.”
She faced Polly, having her full attention now after removing the last of the cool brownies from the pan and arranging them in neat rows on the tray.
Maria wagged a finger at Polly, a small smile hanging on her lips.
“You don’t want to know what your teeth are going to look like if you experience the bad, bad side effects of eating too much sweets, Polly. Your molars, premolars, all of ‘em…they’re going to get real bad and ugly, and then, we’d have to double up your dentist appointments—”
“But I don’t like dentist or doctor’s appointments.”
“Ah, well, what can I say? If I allow you to gobble up all of those brownies, Dr. Demetri is going to become your new best friend,” she rounded off, and her eyes shone with mirth.
Polly issued a counterattack, but I was stuck. I couldn’t move past the glow in her tutor’s eyes.
The hazel appeared more golden than green today, and as much as I wanted to blame it on the reflection from the brightness filtering in from outside, I wondered why I was looking at her in the first place.
“Well, if you’d let me stick to my pancakes and Skittles, I wouldn’t be dealing with all of this right now,” Polly countered.
“I can make you a banana milkshake to compensate.”
“Nuh-uh. I want your brownies.”
“No more of the brownies, Polly. Good God, you’ve had four already. That’s way past the limit.”
“But—”
And an argument commenced, with Maria taking the lead.
Her heedfulness and deep concern toward Polly enthralled me. I saw it two days ago when she shielded her and protected her from the enemy like a feral lioness protecting its cub.
It was also as clear as day now as they bickered back and forth about the advantages and disadvantages of having a ridiculous amount of chocolate baked goods. She cared about my daughter’s health with no pretense. I liked it. I liked it a lot more than I would ever admit, which was why I thought she was the best candidate to play the role of Polina’s tutor and nanny.
Cautions and health safety tips flew between them, and the discussion came to an abrupt close when Maria said a few words along the lines of, “…make sure you brush your teeth.”
And that shut Polly up instantly.