Page 53 of Trapped By the Bratva

“But you also don’t want to tell me why you have that long face.”

I nodded. “Exactly. Call me out on being a bad liar,” I said before I took a carrot stick from Emily’s plate, “but please don’t push and prod and make me talk about something—or someone—I don’t want to talk about.”

She nodded. “Okay. As long as you answer me this one thing.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Okay…”

“Is it a man? An ex-boyfriend?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“All right.” She set a bowl of soup and a plate of crackers out for me. “That’s all that matters. Because if it was a man bothering you or something, I’d be duty-bound to tell Dmitri.”

“Dmitri?”

She shrugged. “All of them. Those brothers don’t take those sorts of things lightly.”

“I see.” I ate the soup the best I could with Emily sitting on my lap as she enjoyed her food. We’d done this before, when she was younger and still getting used to finger foods, and I was happy that she remembered how to balance like this. I missed this little girl, and I was so happy to at least be near her again.

“Even though you’ve only been here almost a month,” she went on to say, “you belong with us. I can tell.”

I smiled, holding back a laugh. “I’m only here to help Dmitri recover the best he can.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” She arched her brows, smug.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look at you.” She gestured at Emily on my lap. “And I’ve seen you with the twins. Becca adores you. Mila and Amy do as well. Nadia’s still acclimating and all herself, but I heard you two talking the other day in passing.”

I gave in to a giggle. “You don’t miss anything in this huge house, do you?”

“I try not to.” She winked. “Hey, listen.” She slid a tray over. “Dmitri hasn’t eaten yet.”

Oh, crap.I was hoping to avoid him for a little longer. His recovery couldn’t be stalled. But I wanted to give him this day to brood on his own. I didn’t want to be shouted at, not after the way Melissa treated me.

“Could you take his tray to him on your way when you’re done?”

I eyed the silver dome that covered his soup and likely more wonderful food the chef and Margie had whipped up. “Yeah, sure. I’m heading that way.”

Dammit.Once I handed Emily over to Becca, who breezed through the kitchen just as I finished my soup, I grabbed the tray and left.

Maybe I can knock, leave it on the floor at his door, and run.I rolled my eyes at my silliness.

I couldn’t bring myself to do that, though. I hated to think of his having to lower to pick it up and hurt himself.

Then again, he sure handled pickingmeup to fuck me on his bed yesterday…

I knocked, and he answered. Brooding and pensive, he glared at me. Without a word, he looked me over like I was a pest. “What?”

I lifted the tray higher.

“You quit as my therapist to become a housemaid?”

I rolled my eyes and brushed past him to bring the tray in. “I was never your therapist. I’m a nurse dropout with therapy training.”

And the fuck buddy you discarded.

Steam still hung in the air. He’d just gotten out of the shower, by the looks of it. And by looks, that meant a towel slung low on his tatted body. I’d be damned if I checked him out. So it was with great strain that I deliberately kept my gaze trained on the floor.