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 jus...
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