Page 27 of A Nanny For The Bratva Boss
Katya hugs Maya. “Thank you, really. You’re a lifesaver.”
“It was my pleasure,” she beams back. And the picture of my girl blending so naturally into my crazy family makes my insides all warm and shit.
Then Katya turns to me, winking like the brat little sister she will always be. She kisses my cheek, and they make their way out.
But when I return from walking them to the door, Maya’s not in the living room anymore.
I check the dining room, the kitchen. Nothing. Then I hear movement upstairs. I take the stairs two at a time, heading straight for her room. The door’s open, and she’s fucking packing. With her duffle bag on the bed, clothes getting folded and shoved inside.
My jaw tightens and I growl, “What. The. Fuck.”
Maya jumps, spinning around. “Oh! I didn’t hear you come up.”
“What are you doing?” I sound unhinged even to my own ears.
She blinks at my tone, then gives me a fucking sweet smile.Is that supposed to help me calm down?
“Going back to the pool house. Sofia’s gone, so I figured…”
I cross the room, grab her bag, and dump all her neatly packed shit on the bed.
“Hey!” she protests, giggling.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Mi…”
“You live here now. With me.”
“Misha…”
I step close, backing her up against the dresser. “You’re mine. That doesn’t change because Sofia’s gone.” Her breath hitches. “Say you’re staying.”
Maya opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. So I storm out of the room, heading out the front door.
She calls after me. “Where are you going?”
“To get your shit.”
I let myself through the gate since we all have each other’s security codes, grab a couple of boxes from the garage, and head to the pool house to start packing her. I stuff a box with her clothes, another with her books. Grab her laptop, all her shit from the bathroom. Every fucking thing. My phone rings while I’m shoving her shoes into a box. It’s Dmitry.
I answer. “Yo.”
“The fuck you doing in my house packing shit?” I figured he’d see me on his surveillance feed.
“Moving my girl out.”
Silence.
Then, “Fuck. Had to be Ana’s friend?”
“She’s mine.”
He chuckles. Low and knowing. “Congrats, brother. Happy for you.”
I grumble, “Thanks,” hang up, toss my phone on the couch, and keep packing.
Ten minutes later, I’m logging the last box into my house. Maya’s standing in the entryway, with her arms crossed over her perfect tits, looking cute as hell with her part amused, part annoyed expression.
