Page 56 of The Bratva's Nanny
It was a note, one that made my heart soar above the danger signs and warning mantras in an instant.
You’re worth a lot more, Solnishko.
Chapter Fifteen – Roman
Polina did a choreographed tap dance on the steps, with her arms moving up and down like a swan and her neck making funny movements when she missed a step. She repeated the routine, ending with a graceful curtsy, and grabbed my arm.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, baby? That was some performance. I didn’t know ballerinas had tap dance in their routines.”
“No, they don’t. But I’m not a ballerina.”
Intrigued by her six-year-old revelation, I asked, “You’re not?”
She shook her head, drawing invisible circles on the ground. “I’m a warrior.”
“A warrior?” I repeated more slowly, and her lips pulled up in a smile. “A warrior with a tutu who knows how to tap dance and do a plié.”
“It’s pronounced ‘plee-ay’, Daddy, not ‘plee’. And yes, I’m a warrior who knows how to do all of that. Even though knowing a plié is not a big deal. Anyone can do it.”
“I beg to differ.”
She swished her ponytail and rolled her eyes, that sass coming out. “You spoil me too much, Daddy.”
Then, the blue in her eyes sparkled with adoration as she sized me up. “You look really handsome, Daddy. I like your suit. It’s plain and black, as it always is.”
I chuckled and pinched her cheek. “Now, I’m not so sure if that’s a compliment.”
She smacked her lips and made a little twirl, using my arm for support. Her tutu jiggled, and she plucked at an unwoven seam.
“But it is.”
I knew where she was heading. Polina was smart. She could tell when I was happy, upset, and in the mood to play. And whether or not I gave hints, she knew when I was going to be absent for a while.
“Why don’t you ever wear colors like red, Daddy?”
Dropping to my haunches, I cupped her cheeks and smiled. “I don’t think I like red, baby. Black is easier, classy, and a lot less complicated. It goes with everything, every mood and every feeling. So, black it is.”
“That’s a real analysis for a color.” Her lips formed a pout, and she folded her arms behind her, looking up with a puppy gaze. “That means you don’t really like my pink tutu or any of the other clothes you got me?”
“No, baby.” I planted a kiss on her cheek. “I love them. Your colors are gorgeous, and they are perfect on you.”
She grabbed my hands and kept them firmly planted on her warm cheeks. “You’re going to be absent again tonight, aren’t you?”
This was one of those nights when it hurt me to be away from her. Leaving her for days was difficult for both of us. To me, it was a constant jab at the back of my head, worrying about her safety or the fear of being estranged from her.
“Not for long. I’ll be back early enough to see you in the morning. But Vasili will be here to protect you.”
She yawned. I sensed sleep coming in. “Doesn’t feel the same when you’re not around. And Maria, too,” she added. Her head perked up. “I like her a lot. Do you like her, too, Daddy?”
I didn’t have to think about it; the answer came in a heartbeat. But I didn’t want to put more ideas in Polina’s head than she already had.
“We should put you to bed.”
She squealed, eyes twinkling, like she knew something I didn’t. A dramatic gasp left her lips; she covered her mouth with a hand and squealed, “Oh, my God, you do like her!” and commenced with rapid-fire babbles.
“I like that you like her…. You should totally marry her! You will be a perfect match! We’d be one big, happy family, Daddy….”