His Nanny Mate - Season 3 Episode 94

Ella

The ballroom dazzled, and it wasn’t just because of the opulent chandeliers dripping with crystals or the intricately patterned marble floors. It was the undercurrents of power and danger, the whispered exchanges and sidelong glances. Every single person seemed important in ways I didn’t understand, and every conversation felt weightier than it should.

Logan led me around the room, his charm a palpable force. I couldn’t help but watch him, part in awe and part in apprehension, as he interacted effortlessly with those around him. As we weaved through the crowd, a loud, boisterous voice pulled us into an unwanted spotlight.

“Logan!” A tall man with an ostentatious suit grinned widely, slapping Logan’s back with a hearty laugh. “Who’s this stunner you’ve got with you? Another fleeting diversion?”

Logan’s face tightened for just a split second before he responded, his voice dripping with controlled authority. “This is Dahlia. My girl.”

A peculiar warmth flooded my cheeks, and I felt something unexpected surge deep within me. My wolf stirred, reacting with a fierce possessiveness to Logan’s declaration. There was an almost overpowering urge to bridge the

small gap between us, to press my lips to his and mark him as mine. Ema growled softly, urging me to claim what she saw as rightfully ours.

“No,” I forcefully told her. “Not now. Not here.”

Lost in the whirlwind of emotions, I nearly missed Logan’s concerned gaze. “Ella? You alright?”

I blinked, attempting to refocus. “I’m just taking it all in, I lied, offering a smile I hoped was convincing. He eyed me, not fooled for a second. “You don’t have to put on a brave face. If you hate this, tell me. I get it, and to be honest, I hate it too.”

His candor caught me off guard. Looking around, I tried to imagine seeing this world through his eyes, a never-ending battlefield of politics and power plays. “I don’t hate it,” I admitted. “It’s just… a lot.”

A soft chuckle escaped him, but his eyes. remained dark and serious. “Trust me, I know. It’s like being in a nest of vipers, every single time. But it’ll end soon. And I promise to steer clear of those who might be… problematic for you.”

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Touched by his consideration, I felt a warmth. toward him that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

“Thank you,” I whispered, the weight of the sentiment heavier than the words alone. He simply tightened his grip on my hand, pulling me closer to his side, as if that would somehow shield me from everything around us.

As the evening continued its relentless march, the weight of everything my internal battles, the overbearing atmosphere-threatened to crush me.

“I need a moment,” I murmured, needing a reprieve. Logan nodded, his fingers lightly brushing a strand of hair out of my face, putting on the show of a couple in love. A facade.

“Take all the time you need.”

With that, I slipped away, heading towards the restroom. When I pushed open the door, I was met by a stark contrast to the opulent ballroom. The restroom was an oasis of soft, ambient lighting and muted colors, designed to soothe the senses. A beautiful crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting gentle patterns onto the intricate tilework below.

To my right, I could hear faint sobs. I hesitated, but my empathy overrode my sense of privacy. Three women stood near a gilded mirror, one crying softly while the other two tried to console her. Their elegant dresses spoke of the same affluence I had seen outside, but their faces held tales of a different kind.

“Hey,” I ventured softly, my reflection meeting theirs in the mirror. “Is everything okay?” The crying girl, her mascara smeared, lifted her head slightly, revealing a deepening bruise around her eye.

“Just another evening with these animals,” she murmured, her voice laced with resignation. One of her friends, a tall blonde with a sharp jawline, sighed heavily. “She didn’t play her part. well, apparently. The bastards think they own. us.”

A flame of anger kindled within me. “Who did this?” I demanded. The third girl, with chestnut curls cascading down her back, gently nudged the crying girl. “You don’t have to tell her, Lina.”

Lina wiped away a tear and tried to straighten. up. “It doesn’t matter. They’re all the same.”

“Not all of them,” I protested, my thoughts drifting to Logan and our moments of genuine connection. Lina smirked bitterly, wincing in pain. “Are you one of us, then? An escort?”

I felt my cheeks flush, not from embarrassment, but from the stark reminder of my own privilege, whether it was fake or not. “No, I’m a… girlfriend. To one of them.”

The blonde raised an eyebrow, a sardonic smile playing on her lips. “Lucky you. Riding the wave without getting drowned, are you?”

“Mel!” the brunette admonished. Mel shrugged. “Just calling it like I see it. We all have our roles here.” I wet a washcloth with cold water, offering it to Lina. “Here. It might help.”

Lina took the cloth gratefully, pressing it against her eye. “Thanks,” she mumbled. The three of them exchanged glances. I felt like I’d unwittingly stumbled into a world I didn’t quite understand.

“So,” Mel began, her icy blue eyes studying me, “do you love him? Your mobster?”

I hesitated, caught off guard by the directness of her question. “It’s… complicated. But he’s different. He’s kind.”

Lina snorted, and the brunette shook her head. “You’re new to this, aren’t you?”

I bristled. “What do you mean?” Mel leaned in, her gaze unflinching. “These men? They’re all the same. They wear different masks, but at their core, they’re predators. Some are just better at hiding it.”

I looked at Lina, her face a canvas of pain and vulnerability. “I can get my… boyfriend to handle this. He won’t let it go.”

The three of them burst into soft, almost cynical laughter. “Oh honey,” the brunette said, her eyes filled with pity. “You really don’t get it. These men don’t operate on the same moral compass as the rest of the world. They don’t ‘handle’ things. They manipulate.”

Mel chimed in, “And if your man gets involved, it could mean trouble for Lina.” “But he’s not like them,” I argued, struggling to reconcile their words with my experiences.

Lina sighed. “Maybe he isn’t. Today. But what about tomorrow? When you say the wrong thing or wear the wrong dress?”

Mel crossed her arms, leaning against the ornate counter. “Don’t be naive. We’ve seen it all. The sweet nothings, the promises, and then the snap when we don’t bend to their will.”

The brunette added, “It’s not just about physical hurt. It’s the mind games, the manipulation. They’re masters at it.”

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I looked down, struggling with their words. These were lives lived in the shadows of powerful men. And as much as I wanted to deny it, these women were right. Logan was one of them.

Lina’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Look, I appreciate the offer for help. But some battles you just have to fight on your own.”

The women exchanged a final glance before moving towards the restroom door. Lina paused, turning back to look at me. “Take care of yourself. Remember, in this world, no one’s going to do it for you.”

The door clicked softly behind them, and I was left alone, surrounded by opulence but feeling a chill in the air. Their words hung heavily, forcing me to confront the truth of my own situation. I watched their reflections fade away, swallowed by a growing sea of questions and doubts.