Page 58 of The Bratva's Nanny
Beside me, I heard her inhaling, leveling her breath. Struggling to kill her nerves. Her voice was quiet. “My question is, why?”
I didn’t answer her. Opening the door, I stepped out into the chill of the night and walked over to her side. I wasn’t surprised to see her already standing on the curb with her sparkling shoes glinting under flashing car headlights.
She rolled her eyes and shut the door behind her. “I can open my own doors, thank you very much.”
I stifled a grin. “Never said you couldn’t.”
She stared at me, her gaze unflinching. “You haven’t told me why, Roman.”
I pulled her close, dropped my head, and inhaled against her neck, drawing the scent of her skin into my nose. When I pressed a soft kiss and growled against her collarbone, she shivered.
“I’m going to show you to the world, to let them know that you are my woman.”
She didn’t argue. Didn’t even utter a word. Understanding softened her eyes, and she turned away to hide the well of emotions that brewed inside. I took that as a cue to proceed.
We stepped into the lavish hall, and her eyes widened at the sight of the rich and famous mingling around us. The who’s who of the city’s elite, all gathered in one spot.
Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, casting a golden glow on the crowd, while waiters glided silently with trays of champagne.
Her hand tightened around mine as we made our way into the fray. The flash of cameras, the fake smiles, the air thick with pretension—I knew it all too well.
I nodded to a few familiar faces, my expression a mask of civility, all the while my mind was working overtime, sizing up the competition.
We moved through the throng. I exchanged polite nods and empty pleasantries. A man in an expensive suit approached us, his smile as polished as his shoes. Dark eyes shimmered like the ripples on the champagne fountain.
He extended a hand. “Why, isn’t it good to see you again!”
My emotions toward that rhetorical question were ten percent mixed and ninety percent indifferent. Benjamin Quinn wasn’t as crooked as they came but wasn’t straight, either. At social events like these, avoiding him was a better option.
“Likewise,” I replied, shaking his hand firmly.
“Heard you were in town,” he pried, showcasing a cheeky grin. “I was looking forward to running into you here.”
“Oh?”
“To congratulate you, of course.”
“Oh.”
“In just a year, you’ve managed to make a name for yourself in the Big Apple. I’ve heard you’re the fiercest competition yet. There ain’t nothing Roman Varkov isn’t the best at: the corporate sector, building the empire, eliminating rivals, forging the most wicked alliances, and successfully pulling off high-stakes heists. To top it all off, cementing your reputation as the most ruthless and vicious amongst them all.”
Maria side-eyed me, and when I looked back, for the first time, I couldn’t read her.
I faced Benjamin, not impressed in the least. “You exaggerate.”
His chuckle was deep and throaty like a grandfather’s while he narrated tales to his grandkids, and he said, “You know I don’t, Roman.”
His eyes found Maria, and he wiped a hand across his jacket and waved it dismissively in the air. “Anyway, enough about your outstanding profile. Who’s the pretty lady?”
I snuck an arm around her waist, and she stiffened in my grasp. “This is Maria.”
Maria flashed a charming smile and extended her hand.
But I sensed her unease beneath it. This was new to her—being her and fusing with my world—and it showed. The conversation with Benjamin soon ended, and we met a few more people.
As we walked away from another introduction, Maria leaned in and whispered, “The old man seemed nice.”
I glanced at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.