Nanny for the Russian Mafia (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 102)

by Flora Ferrari

  And I’d like to earn the chance to see even more of it. My throat tightens as I imagine what’s underneath that layer of dark, thin wool that’s straining under the force of his cock, which is practically screaming to be set free.

  Our food and drinks come quickly and I feel like I’m about to come just as quickly if I don’t stop fantasizing about the man who’s sitting next to me. My pussy is so wet, so needy, and I can feel it trying to clamp down onto something right now, but each time it comes up empty.

  It’s demanding his dick, as are my swollen folds.

  I pick up a packet of creamer and go to place it in my coffee, but Alexei raises up his hand and blocks it. He says something in Russian and a split second later there’s fresh creamer on the table from a waiter who looks like he knows he’s skating on thin ice.

  As an orphan I’m totally accustomed to being absolutely powerless, in more ways than one. Being with Alexei is the complete opposite, and it’s refreshing and exhilarating at the same time.

  My body shifts even more to square up to his. My two coffees and croissant are at my side on the table. His eyes are at half-mast and I’m practically begging him to tear off a corner of my French pastry and feed it to me.

  “This breakfast is amazing.”

  “You’re amazing.”

  My cheeks redden and a soft sound escapes me, but what isn’t lost on me is how lucky I am…to be here with him.

  “Alexei.”

  “Tell me what you want. I’ll have them bring it. Anything.”

  “I just want…to ask you some questions.”

  “About?”

  “You. Your life. Everything.”

  “I’ll answer what I can, but I can’t promise to answer everything.”

  Have I pressed too far already? I mentally backtrack to something easier to talk about…at least I think.

  “Vitaly is a sweet boy.”

  “Not for much longer.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not sure he’s fully grasped the idea that his mother and father aren’t coming back. I don’t know, to be honest. I barely remember being five myself. My life wasn’t easy, nor was yours. That’s why I wanted you here, amongst other reasons. I wanted someone who knows what it’s like to scratch and claw and fight their way to the top…someone who had to do it themselves without parents. Someone who can share those lessons with Vitaly. My life? It’s too easy now, too cush. I’m not going to go Spartan warrior on him and take him out in the forest and come check on him in a week and make sure nothing’s eaten him and that he’s still alive, but I have to do something. He can’t grow up in such a comfortable environment, despite all the uncomfortable questions he has, and will have, about his parents and what happened to them.”

  “What did happen to them?”

  “His father was murdered, plain and simple. They say he drove into a tree, but there were no skid marks and the guy never drove tired. It’s too convenient. Russia, as you know, is known for its computer hackers. You can go online and see video after video of hackers taking control of vehicles. It’s not hard at all. All you need is the car’s IP address, which is usually completely public, and not password protected. Once you’re in you could control it remotely. You wouldn’t even need a drone, although it might make the specific quote unquote accident you want to happen a little easier to go according to plan.” He pauses. “And his mother, my sister? To think she’d overdose on sleeping pills mourning the death of her husband is absurd. She’s a fucking vegan. She won’t even eat meat, let alone take so much as an aspirin. She delivered that boy without a single drug and now you’re going to tell me that she suddenly took her own life, with pills no less, and leaves him as an orphan? Not a chance. And whoever did this can bet their ass I’m going to find them, and then beat them so bad that I’ll be able to twist them into a pretzel and insert their head straight up their backside.”

  Suddenly the glass in his hand shatters and I see blood immediately gush.

  “I’m sorry. I’m very protective of my family.”

  “Of course.” It’s not lost on me that he said his sister is a vegan, as if she’s not gone yet. I’m not sure Vitaly’s the only one who hasn’t fully come to grips with this.

  Growing up in an orphanage I always felt like I was alone, like no one would fight for me. Seeing the anger Alexei has for the people who did this makes me want him in my corner too. To know there’s someone who loves you so much that he’s going to do whatever it takes to track down the person who committed the ultimate wrong and make them not only suffer the same fate, but to feel the pain he’s feeling is…wow.

  But there’s no more time for questions. The few I asked were enough for now. Two waiters arrive quickly with cloth towels, which Alexei uses to wrap his hand like a boxer.

  “We should probably get back so you can get to know Vitaly better.”

  “Of course.”

  I still have so many more questions, but the ones for Alexei will have to wait. The bigger question now is what’s it going to be like to work with Vitaly…and what’s really going on in that beautiful little boy’s head?

  CHAPTER 11

  Crystal

  “Why are you here?” Vitaly looks at me as I set up the Connect 4 game.

  “Your dad asked me to come and be a part of your home.”

  “This isn’t my real home.”

  Now the real work begins, and I have to prove I’m qualified to do this even though technically I’m one hundred percent not.

  “Red or yellow?”

  “Red.”

  I slide him the red discs and take the yellow ones.

  “Is Ludmila going to play too?”

  “Not right now.”

  “Later?”

  “Maybe she can. I’m not sure, but we can check later.”

  Vitaly says nothing. He eyes the tower and drops in his first disc right down the middle.

  Alexei pulled Vitaly out of school this semester. He told me on the drive back that it wasn’t an easy decision, or one he took lightly. Part of him thought that Vitaly should just keep marching, that time away would allow his mind to wander and alienate him from other children during an important phase of his growth and socialization. In the end what won out was Alexei’s concern that someone was targeting the family and he wasn’t about to let anyone make an attempt at Vitaly’s life. Not now, and not ever.

  “Good choice.” I put a disc down right next to his.

  “You blocked me,” he huffs.

  “I don’t want you to win and you don’t want me to win, right?”

  He crosses his arms and just looks at the board before finally dropping another disc on top of his first one.

  Alexei told me not to go easy on him. He’s made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t want Vitaly to grow up “soft.” Alexei is very much at odds with the whole hipster culture and isn’t interested in it trying to make strides in Russia, and especially not in his home. He was very clear that Vitaly should be treated like “a real man.” I found the wording a bit odd, especially in regards to a five-year-old, but I know what he meant.

  Now the question is, can I execute on his wish?

  I should drop a disc on top of Vitaly’s and block his, or I could drop another one next to his, forcing him to try and connect four straight up. I take the middle ground and decide to go next to his.

  He quickly counters with a third disc right on top of the first two.

  Without hesitation I drop a disc on top of his row of three, and equally as quickly he pushes the tower over and takes off running and screaming toward his room. “Ludmila would let me win!”

  His door slams and immediately I see Alexei in the hallway, a wireless earbud in place.

  “What happened?”

  “He was about to get a Connect 4 and I blocked him.”

  Alexei nods. “Good. You’re doing the right thing.” He gives me a thumbs up sign and then walks back toward his office, but I overhear a bit of his conve
rsation. “Sorry Mr. Fletcher, but you know we have sanctions imposed against us and the Royal Bank of Scotland won’t—” His door shuts behind him.

  Sanctions against Russia or Alexei in particular? I need to mind my own business.

  I put the game back in the box and tip back my glass of water, which seems to immediately fill my bladder.

  I go to the bathroom and while I’m sitting I pull up a YouTube video of a random song and let it play…so I can open up the door underneath the sink.

  I finish my business and double-check that the door is locked. After pulling out the box with my toilet paper fingerprint blocker technique I open the top.

  Inside is a new small piece of paper.

  I really shouldn’t read it.

  No, definitely not.

  I’ll just put it right back where I found…aww heck.

  I pull out the paper.

  Bunga Bunga red dress is the one.

  What in the…? Bunga bunga? This sounds like some caveman lingo now. I slide the note back inside the box and wash my hands.

  The second I open the door Ludmila is standing there staring at me.

  “What are you doing in the bathroom?”

  “I…” My heartbeat is racing. “Using the toilet.”

  “Where’s Vitaly?”

  “He went to his room.”

  “He’s got serious issues. You can’t just let him run off by himself. Here,” she says, grabbing me by the arm and taking off down the hall toward his room.

  A wave of relief washes over me that she isn’t questioning me about the note, but about Vitaly. That shouldn’t be a relief actually. I need to do some serious research about Vitaly’s condition so I can try and get up to speed as quickly as possible. I was naive in thinking that my similar experience was going to be all I needed. Thinking back I always regarded the handful of “professionals” I interacted with over the years as being nothing more than people who either couldn’t relate, or in a couple cases, men who were just looking to take advantage of a troubled youth. I taste bile in my mouth remembering the thought and thankful I escaped unscathed.

  Ludmila opens Vitaly’s door while still holding onto my arm. Vitaly is in the corner, his knees pulled up to his chest and his head down. He’s not crying, but he’s definitely not smiling either.

  “Vitaly. You okay?”

  He doesn’t respond.

  Ludmila says something in Russian to which Vitaly fires an angry reply back. He points at me and continues yelling. I feel my body pulling back at whatever accusation he’s shooting my way, but from Ludmila’s aggressive response and the way she yanks me forward I can tell she’s taking my side. I’m a bit surprised.

  Vitaly buries his head again and Ludmila allows a beat to pass. She says something again in Russian and then Vitaly raises his head and looks at me. “I’m sorry for my actions, Crystal.”

  “It’s okay, Vitaly. Really.”

  Ludmila says one more thing and then guides me out of the room.

  “He’ll be fine, but we should just leave him alone for awhile.”

  I’m confused. Isn’t this in contradiction to how she was just reacting to his outburst? Maybe she just wanted to check on him.

  “I can knock on his door in…say, five minutes and see how he is?”

  “Just leave him. He needs to be a man and shouldn’t pout. If he wants to pout then he can be alone. When he’s ready to act like an adult he can join the rest of us.”

  “He’s only five.”

  “Listen, Crystal.” The way she’s beginning I’m already angry before she continues in a way I know is coming. “Russia isn’t some bullshit Hallmark card country like you came from. We deal with things differently here. You try and win Vitaly over he’ll smell your weakness and walk all over you. Look around. This isn’t a home. This is a den, full of wolves and I suggest you quit walking around like a lost sheep with a cut on her leg because these predators already smell blood, I’m sure, and they’re circling.”

  “I beg your pardon?” I say, jerking my hand from Ludmila, but I’m not strong enough. I jerk again and free myself on my second attempt. I want to carry through and elbow her right in the fucking face, but refrain.

  “Do it your way, or mine. I don’t care, but you’ve been warned.”

  She turns and walks away as if nothing happened, which is odd because it seems like something is always happening around here.

  And it’s coming from every angle.

  CHAPTER 12

  Crystal

  The next morning

  I received another lesson yesterday evening when Alexei told me he and Vitaly were taking a short vacation, and as Vitaly’s nanny I was coming along.

  His thoughts were that a change of scenery would be good for Vitaly, plus getting the two of us together in a new and exciting way could help me bond with his son.

  I like the plan, but I’m not sure if Alexei is too cold about everything. Doesn’t he understand that Vitaly is a five-year-old and he’s expected to have feelings of mourning and anger after two wounds that are very fresh?

  I want to say something to Alexei, but this is his home and he’s hired me. I remind myself that he’s paying me to help raise Vitaly, and one of the ways I can do that is to politely let Alexei know ways I recommend we can bring him up in the best environment possible, given the circumstances. I was going to tell him on the way to wherever he was driving us but hold off.

  But as it turns out he was driving us to the airport, where we run into a couple of women at the private hangar where an airplane is awaiting us.

  “Hey Alexei,” one of the women winks. “When you gonna take us up in your plane?”

  “When you’re ready to jump without a parachute,” he mumbles under his breath as he helps me board.

  “Who are they?” I ask as Vitaly runs to the back of the plane with wide eyes, taking in everything and totally ignoring the two of us. Perfect.

  “Two NetJets stewardesses who are intent on initiating me into the mile high club, a club I have no interest in joining…with them.”

  His eyes move from mine to my lips as he puts my backpack into the overhead bin, his body leaning in so close to mine I could rip his shirt off and run my hands up and down his abs and across his chest if I wanted to. What am I talking about? I do want to.

  The stewardesses that we do have go to close the door and one of the women from below yells out, “See ya at the bunga bunga.”

  There’s that word again…bunga bunga.

  Alexei rolls his eyes, but I’m not letting this reference go unnoticed.

  “What’s bunga bunga?”

  “A game those women like to play. Here,” he says, changing the subject. “Let’s get you something to drink.”

  A game those women like to play?

  Alexei pours a couple glasses of champagne while I make sure that Vitaly is buckled up and seated. I’m not the stewardess, but it’s still my job to make sure the little guy is okay at all times.

  “Wanna play a game or watch a movie?”

  “Movie,” he says. Perfect. That gives me one on one time with Alexei. I get his movie selection sorted and join Alexei at the front of the plane.

  “Cheers,” he says.

  We clink glasses and I take a sip. It’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted and the bottle is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I can only imagine what this must cost and I feel guilty for drinking it.

  “So you saw those women back there?” he asks as we taxi out to the runway.

  “The bunga bunga girls.”

  “Something like that. Those are the kind of women I don’t need, but seem to cling to this kind of lifestyle with the claws of a ferocious beast. Now you know why every mafia man wants a son, not a daughter.”

  I freeze. Did he say every mafia man?

  He picks up on my state, and immediately cuts to the chase. “Yes, I’m involved in businesses that aren’t the kind you find listed on the New York Stock Exchange, but they’re just as bi
g, powerful, and difficult to run.”