Page 75 of The Bratva's Nanny

But after listening to the recording and seeing the tears roll down her cheeks, I saw her genuineness and reconfirmed what I’d known all along: Maria would never hurt Polina. Or me.

But her distrust didn’t fucking hurt less. It felt like two fucking flaming arrows had gone right through my chest, puncturing every organ in their wake.

“And I don’t think about protecting her?” I said instead. “I’m still standing on what I said: You should have told me your plan. This is a fucking dangerous game, not a playground.”

“I know.”

“Finn’s not just a crazy person. He sold his soul a long time ago. Going to see him alone was putting yourself at risk. You were fucking playing with fire, Maria.”

Sobering up, she occupied the seat across mine and clasped her fingers together. “If I told you, guns and men and resources would have been the first things you would have considered. Playing to be on his side was the most secure option, and I will not apologize for it.”

Damn her stubbornness. It excited me as much as it angered me.

I wanted to smack her hard on the ass and kiss her senseless, all at the same time.

Thankfully, her phone rang on the table before I truly did something irrational. I glared at it as she answered and put it on speaker.

Maria’s eyes locked into mine as she said, “Hullo?”

There was a static cackle, and then….

“Tomorrow, four hours after noon, bring the little Varkov princess to the old warehouse on the Hudson River waterfront, near the old piers in Red Hook.” Finn’s voice was a low hum in the background, his words making my blood boil. “You know, the one with the faded sign that still reads ‘The Brooklyn Yards’?”

She was quiet for a while before she said, “You said you’d text the details.”

“Do you know the fucking faded sign or not, Maria? I don’t have time to fucking waste.”

She responded, “Yes, I do.”

Silence.

“Good. That’ll be it. When you come, I’ll take care of the rest. And about your request to get away from the monster, I gave it some thought and decided to help you out. You’ll have your perfect escape, and maybe afterward, I’ll reconsider having a taste of his leftovers.”

Maria didn’t look at me because we both knew what “leftovers” meant. He was talking about her. He was talking about a lot of things that stirred up that ugly, angry monster again.

It took every bit of control not to snap, snatch her phone, and slam it against the wall.

My mind raced with doubts. Did she really want to escape from me? From us? My trust in her was flickering, and my heart—a part of it that had come alive—suddenly felt like it was being ripped apart.

But her gaze never wavered; her eyes locked onto mine with a reassuring intensity. She nodded. “Okay. I’ll be there.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the raging storm. “What. The. Fuck. Was. That. Huh? Monster, escape, leftovers? You are not my fucking leftover, Maria. You’re….”

I trailed off.

She’s fucking what? my mind snapped.

Jesus. No one ever made me lose my cool like she did. She riled me up and was also the antidote to my rage, calming me down.

She gaped expectantly for the rest of the sentence.

I cleared my throat and recomposed myself. “You are important to this household. And your contract isn’t up yet. So, where exactly are you running to?”

Disappointment flickered, and she muttered, “I had to make him believe me.”

“I had to make him believe me,” she repeated, louder this time, and offered a small smile. “Let’s look at the bright side, shall we? We have Finn Jameson right where we want him. Tomorrow, we’ll finally bring him down.”

And she was right—we finally had the upper hand.