Page 26 of The Bratva's Nanny

Not good, Roman. Get your mind out of there.

But it was already too late. As though a veil had been peeled off my eyes, I saw every hidden detail very clearly, now brought under the spotlight: the fitting of the turquoise apron around her slender figure, the way the tips of her lush blonde hair lightly brushed her shoulders.

Her small nose. The unequaled carve of her eyebrows. The sparse freckles scattered across her cheeks. And her lips, appearing soft and full under the light.

I noticed none of those things before, not the way she chewed the insides of her cheeks when she was brooding, nibbled on her fingers after every twenty minutes, or the extra level of caution she applied when moving about or carrying something. In such a short time, I’d discovered that her every action was premeditated.

Maria Simmons was not only smart. She was drop-dead gorgeous. She possessed the type of beauty that made me look twice—that made me consider. That made hot blood burn through my veins and travel below my belt.

She had my full attention, and, again, that was not good.

She lived here now, and that meant seeing her more often than I liked. I had to deal with it quickly—whatever it was.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” she started, snacking on a piece of a brownie. “When’s the funeral?”

Her question made no sense.

I stuck a hand into one of my pockets and leaned against the counter with the other, drumming my fingers slowly, a motion for her to elaborate.

Her gaze fell to my hands, and something flickered through briefly before she dragged her eyes back to my face. “I meant for your men: Kian and Evgeni.”

Made sense. Hearing their names reignited my burning desire to find out who was responsible and ensure they paid fully for their deaths. Blood for blood.

I shrugged. “Yesterday.”

She frowned. “Yesterday?”

I blew an impatient breath, signaling that any more seconds spent talking with her was an absolute waste of my time. “They were buried yesterday—in an orchard with beautiful trees and the sun shining down on them,” I added, and she got the memo.

Even after trying to hide her disappointment for not being informed, she failed woefully. Her lips took an unhappy curve, and the glimmer in her eyes dulled considerably. “Nice. You gave them a befitting funeral.”

At that point, I couldn’t read her. I didn’t know what she anticipated, what she wanted from me.

An apology for not sending her an invite?

Sure.

I turned around to walk away, but she appeared in front of me, blocking my path. “Before Polina left, what did she say?”

I answered with no hesitation. “Your brownies are going to keep her waiting up all night.”

“Oh.” She sighed in relief. “I feared that I’d really upset her.”

“You didn’t.”

“Good.”

Maria was jittery. Her fingers trembled, and she shifted the weight between her feet. Something else gnawed that mind of hers, somewhat of a contemplation. She rubbed her arms and looked up.

“Would you like to taste one? I mean, a brownie.”

I licked my lips. “Roman.”

She blinked, confusion clouding her expression. “I don’t—I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I understand—”

“Earlier, you addressed me as ‘sir’,” I stated blankly. “Call me Roman.”

“You’re my boss now. I can’t.”