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“My sister-in-law swears by it. Works like a charm.”
Nat is quiet for a moment, her eyes trained on me like a hawk. Curiosity bubbles beneath the surface of my skin. Does she understand how mesmerizing she is? Such intense focus… For some reason, I want to know what’s going on inside that pretty head of hers. I’ve barely gotten the chance to know her, and I want nothing more than to peel away the layers she’s so securely wrapped around herself. Shouldn’t I get to know someone living in my own home?
“Okay,” she murmurs finally, moving across the kitchen with the fluidity and grace of a dancer.
I flick on the light above the stove and set to work, moving as quietly as possible to avoid waking the rest of the household. Soon enough, I’ve got the milk warmed in a saucer, pouring out equal portions into two waiting mugs. When I turn—
I once again find Natalya staring at the knives.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, setting a mug in front of her. “Do you not like that brand?”
Even in the dim light, I can see the tips of her ears turn pink.
“I… No, that’s not it.”
I can’t help but smile. She’s weird and super shy, but I can’t say I mind it one bit. If anything, I think it’s endearing.
“I was just thinking about how unsafe the house is,” she says softly.
“I assure you this place is as safe as it gets.”
“No, I meant babyproofing-wise. No offense, Mr. Antonov–"
“Dimitri.”
“Right… Dimitri.” She clears her throat. “You’ve got a one-year-old crawling around. There’s exposed electrical outlets, no baby gate to keep Simon from falling down the stairs, cabinets with no locks … It’s not safe.”
I grimace as I look around.Shit. She’s totally right.Why didn’t any of that cross my mind? To be fair, Tatiana didn’t do me any favors by springing fatherhood on me, so abruptly, but still. Is this why Natalya’s been so uneasy? Has she been afraid to say something to me?
“I’ll have it taken care of straight away,” I say, taking a seat next to her at the kitchen island. “Compile a list for me. I’ll have one of my men go out and buy the necessary supplies.”
Natalya takes a sip of her warm beverage, licking her bottom lip when she pulls away. My eyes dart down to follow the motion. It’s hard not to notice how luscious her lips are.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about them,” she mumbles. “Those men I see standing outside your house. Who are they?”
“My guards.”
She furrows her brows. “Why do you need guards?”
It occurs to me then that I never told Natalya what I do for a living. I never will. I’m worried the fastest way to end up with Natalya’s resignation letter is to tell her I’m a Bratva enforcer. She’s been immensely helpful the last few days, and good help is always so hard to find. If I tell her the truth, she’ll probably freak out.
“I’m a government official,” I lie smoothly.
Natalya gives me a look. I can’t tell if she’s impressed or skeptical. “A government official,” she echoes flatly. “And a government official needs a rotating team of ten armed guards at all hours of the day?”
I’m surprised she knows the exact number. I’m even more surprised she realized they’re all carrying concealed weapons. I’ll have to have a word with them about being more discreet. If the live-in nanny can figure it out, our enemies sure as hell can, too.
“I’m a very…importantgovernment official,” I say, continuing with my ruse.
“I see. Is that why you’re always locked up in your office or away at meetings?”
“Exactly,” I say with a big smile.
“What exactly are your responsibilities?”
“This and that.”
“Wow, how informative.”
