Lust. Desire. Obsession. Jealousy.
Emotions I have no right to feel. Anna Petrakova isn’t my wife. She isn’t my girlfriend. Hell, she isn’t even my mistress.
She’s my nanny.
I’ve had good reasons for keeping our relationship professional—on the surface at least. And even better reasons for tracking every movement she makes, memorizing every detail about her life, watching over her, keeping her safe.
Anna is mine. My obsession. My addiction. The love of my life.
She just doesn’t know it yet.
Does that make me sick, twisted? Definitely.
Yet my gorgeous girl has her secrets, too. Secrets she thinks she can hide from me. But when I discover her naughtiest secret, I know I have to act—even if it’s reckless, even if it blows our lives apart.