Page 55 of The Bratva's Nanny

I massaged my temples.

This was really worse than dealing with Noah Jepton.

I stared out my window, surrounded by the sounds of the city. It was a little after five in the evening. Cars honked, and people chattered in the distance. It had become a familiar chaos that I’d grown to love over the past weeks.

Roman had been intentional about building his home not too far away from the view of the city, and I knew it was for his daughter’s benefit. That way, Polly didn’t feel estranged from life outside those thick walls. It was one feature of the Varkov Mansion I enjoyed.

I inhaled the faint smells of food and exhaust from the distance, seeping in through the cracked window, and felt the hustle and bustle of the city come alive.

I leaned my forehead against the glass, letting the sounds wash over me. The sounds forced me to recall moments when I wanted to jump out my window and run away into the night.

When my father came back drunk, raving mad about not having dinner. Dinner that he didn’t provide for. Or when he felt like testing out the quality of his new leather belts, belts I was sure he’d stolen from Jepton’s clothing store downtown.

He'd gag and whip me when he was not in the mood for extreme violence. Hit me across the face when he was upset. Playfully shove my face to the bulge in his pants when he was drunk. Tie me up with worn-out twine and batter my ribs with bone-crunching punches when he was furious.

One time, he’d forced alcohol down my throat, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and told me to spit it back out slowly just for his pleasure.

I’d hated my father.

I’d hated him so much that I’d cut my hair to hinder his fingers from going in. I’d hated him enough to think about different ways I could tie him up and deal him blows, too, to hurt him as much as he’d hurt me. But the universe didn’t want me to get me to get my hands dirty. He’d kicked the bucket before I ever got the chance.

I sighed and turned away from the gruesome memories. Even if I’d convinced myself that I’d moved past them, they always made me sick.

I thought about Roman and all the times I’d watched him wear the cloak of a soul destroyer. The anger brimming in his eyes, the torrents of fury, and the thick layers of brutality that formed the man.

I didn’t know him well; I only knew the sides he’d shown me. Regardless, deep down, there was a conviction, just sitting there in the recesses of my heart, and I knew for a fact that he would never hurt me.

At that moment, my phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I walked over to it. Picking up the phone, I tapped on the screen. It was a message from the man himself.

Be ready by six. x Roman.

I racked my brain.

Be ready?

The last time I saw Roman was two days ago, in his office, after he unhooked my legs from around his waist, cleaned his come off my thighs with a piece of cloth he’d produced from a mini wardrobe, and kissed my forehead before sending me off to my room to get some rest.

Then, all of a sudden, I got a text, asking—ordering—me to be ready?

Be ready for what?

Surprised, I stared open-mouthed at the cryptic text and had already begun drafting a response when a rapt knock resounded on the door.

I ambled closer and opened the door to reveal the new housecleaner. Roman had hired her three hours after Finn’s attack.

She was years younger than Irina and a lot quieter, too. With a short nod and brisk steps, she placed a big black box on the edge of my bed and was out of the door in a flash.

I went over to the box, ran my fingers through the sleekness of the designer’s logo, and played with the strings of the ribbon tied over it. Carefully, I unwrapped it, curious to know what it contained.

The strings came undone, the box loosened, and I parted the layers and ruffles. I gasped. Beneath the covering, lying in a neat fold, was the most stunning red dress I had ever seen. It was like liquid night, hugging every curve, and the fabric felt like silk on my skin.

Then, I saw the price tag, and my eyes widened in shock.

This dress cost more than a down payment on a condo!

I started composing another text to express my appreciation and to kindly inform him that I couldn’t accept such an expensive gift when I caught sight of a white square piece of paper peeking out from under the layers and ruffles.

Tucking my phone into my pocket, I picked it out.