Page 61 of The Bratva's Nanny

I bit the inside of my cheek.

Maybe now would have been a good time to feel disgusted or appalled by the revelation that he had a torture chamber-slash-dungeon in an underground compartment in his house.

Adding a dramatic wine throw at his face and screaming, “Monster!” before I ran out of the hall like some pathetic, heartbroken Cinderella might have done the trick.

But somehow, hidden behind all that hardness and his poker face, he knew I wouldn’t.

I knew I wouldn’t

I wasn’t Cinderella. But I was pathetic.

I sighed. “Next question.”

“Throw.”

Another server passed, and I reached for another glass. He grabbed my hand, stopping me. “Should probably take it easy with the glasses.”

My eyes narrowed, and I withdrew my hand. “Who exactly are you?”

He tucked a hand into his pocket and stared above my head for the briefest second before looking back down. “I am who I’ve been from the first time you saw me.”

I flashed a pretend smile. “Gee, thanks for not being vague.”

A sliver of amusement crossed his lips. It was clear he wasn’t going to answer that, so I pushed more.

“Saying you’re a Russian crime family, wielding guns, having torture chambers, or any of that stuff doesn’t explain anything. I heard your portfolio.” He was aware that I referred to the things Benjamin had said about him.

“And all of a sudden, you don’t know me?”

If I had not known Roman Varkov, the man without a shred of emotions, I might have thought he sounded offended.

“No, I don’t.”

But I want to know you.

I withheld my tongue from adding that part.

He snorted and, this time, snatched a glass from a tray and swallowed everything with one mouthful.

The selfish bastard.

“No answers?”

He didn’t say anything.

Furious, I jumped right to the next question, even when all my internal organs screamed, “Abort mission!”

“Do you have trouble sleeping at night?”

That got his attention, and his eyes snapped to mine, guarded. “Why?”

I gulped, suddenly feeling nervous under his scrutiny. Or maybe it was the insane amount of alcohol I’d had in three hours.

“The starry ceiling lights.”

The look he gave me made my heart sink to the depths of my stomach. Gone was the placid mask. Now, his gaze burned with an unexplainable fury. Almost similar to immense pain. And I instantly understood why.

Secrets. He had loads and loads of them.