Page 67 of The Bratva's Nanny

My eyes stung with unshed tears, and I sniffed them back in.

I looked at her. She slept peacefully now, releasing small snores as her chest rose and fell.

I couldn’t help it; I loved her, too.

She was so vulnerable and dependent on us, the big ones, yet she brought such strength and purpose to my life. I had to face it: If it wasn’t for Polly, he would’ve had no use for me. I was here because of her.

Just looking at her lit in me a longing for the maternal love I had never experienced. A longing to give what I’d never had.

As gently as I could, I got up from her bed, resolute to follow my heart. It didn’t matter that I could be gone soon; I would always be there for her.

I closed her bedroom door behind me, and I couldn’t help but think of Roman. My face grew hot, and I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks. I was mortified, remembering the way I had thrown myself at him when I was drunk. The way I had begged him to kiss me, to touch me.

God!

All those things I’d said about his lips, eyes, body, and mouth.

Oh, Maria.

And that stupid, stupid nursery song.

I cringed at the memory, my mind racing with embarrassment.

I took a deep breath and stepped out into the hallway, trying to shake off the thoughts. I didn’t need to dwell on that night, on the way I had made a fool of myself.

I headed toward the living room, my feet sinking into the plush carpet.

And that’s when I saw him.

Roman was sitting on the couch, his eyes fixed on his phone and his lips pulled into a tight line. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, dressed in matching black sweatpants and a t-shirt that clung to muscles like a second skin, and I felt that familiar flutter in my chest. The same flutter I’d felt when I kissed his forehead and rested his head between my breasts.

I tried to ignore it, to tell myself I was just reacting to the embarrassment of the situation. But as I approached him, I couldn’t deny that spark that seemed to ignite between us.

My entrance didn’t go unnoticed by him. I didn’t know what it was; maybe my feet on the carpet or the sharp smell of the baby powder I’d used on Polly. Either way, he was always alert and sensitive.

Thinking about it made me want to watch him sleep. To know if the slightest motion would rouse him awake. I was betting that it would.

“Hi.” I rubbed my arms but didn’t sit down for two reasons.

One: I didn’t expect to bump into him here. The most natural thing to do would have been a brief exchange of greetings right before I pivoted on my heel and walked the fuck away back to my room.

Two: He wasn’t smiling. It was one of those intense, no-nonsense businessman postures he assumed on the couch.

I started to listen to the voice of reason and began backing away from the living room when his sudden announcement caused me to do a double take.

“I’m going to kill Finn.”

I walked back to him, standing inches away from his spread-out legs. He’d already said this that day at the school. He’d held me and made a vow to slit Finn’s throat. So, there could only be one reason why he’d talk about it again, in my presence.

When the realization came, I could’ve passed out from shock.

He wanted my input.

Roman Varkov wanted my two cents.

He didn’t have to ask; his silence did all the talking.

I wet my lips before asking, “You found out more about him, didn’t you?”