Page 24 of A Nanny For The Bratva Boss
He glances at me, shaking his head. Then he pulls into the school lot, parks, and turns to me.
“I don’t do this, baby. I don’t bring women into my life.”
My heart’s pounding. “Why me, then?”
“Cause you’re mine.”
He says it so matter-of-factly. Like it’s simple, natural, obvious. And maybe it is. Because I feel the same. Before I can respond, Mikhail is out of the car. He opens my door, helps me out, and threads our fingers together as we walk toward the school. What even is my life right now?!
There’s a small crowd of parents picking up their little ones, chatting among themselves, and kids scurrying out of the building, talking and laughing. We get curious looks from some of the adults, especially moms ogling Mikhail… Yeah, I get it: he’s a whole lot of man.
After a few minutes, Sofia comes running our way.
“Uncle Misha! Maya!”
She launches herself at us, wrapping her small arms around one of her uncle’s legs and one of mine. My poor heart…
Mikhail lays a hand on the top of her head, all gentle giant.
“Hey, princess. Good day?”
“The best! We had art, we played outside, and the snacks you packed me were really good!” He nods, smiling down at her, making my ovaries stand at attention. Sofia turns to me with her adorable smile. “Did you guys have fun without me?”
Mikhail and I exchange a look.Oh, we had fun, alright…
“Yeah, sweetie. We had a nice day.”
“What did you do?”
I cough. “Just… uh… hung out.”
Mikhail’s smirking. I elbow him. Thank God, Sofia doesn’t notice. She just keeps chatting about her day as we walk to the car.
* * *
Back at the house, Sofia wants to bake cookies.
“Please?” She’s pressing her palms together, giving us puppy-dog eyes, and I have to hold back my laughter, waiting for her uncle’s response. “I saw a recipe on my tablet, and it looks so yummy!”
Mikhail looks at me and raises an eyebrow.
I beam. “Cookies sound perfect.”
He grunts, shaking his head, but heads for the kitchen.
Sofia giggles. “You’re the best, Uncle Misha.”
I couldn’t agree more.
Sofia pulls up the sugar cookies recipe on her tablet. Mikhail rolls up his sleeves to wash his hands, and my mouth goes dry. Thick, corded forearms, covered in ink… Get it together, Maya, Sofia isright here!
But my internal struggle to not melt into a puddle of heart-eyes and weeping pussy continues as I sit on a bar stool, watching them move around the marble counter. He’s so patient with her. It’s freaking adorable how Mikhail lets Sofia measure ingredients even though she spills half of them. He helps her crack the eggs and doesn’t even flinch when she gets flour on his shirt. And I’m just sitting there making teasing comments that make Sofia giggle while her uncle shakes his head and grunts at us. Which makes us laugh even harder. And I’m pretty sure that’s his goal.
When Sofia runs to the bathroom, he moves behind me, wraps his arms around my waist, and pulls me against his warm, muscular chest.
“Having fun?” he murmurs against my ear, sending shivers all over.
“Yeah,” I manage to reply breathlessly.
