Chapter 5 Little Angel.

"Miss Clarke. Miss Clarke, you need to wake up." I heard a voice incessantly calling my name.

At first, I'd thought it was Louisa, who was bugging me like she always does but in a good way. So I responded carelessly, "Lou, let me be. Mike fired me, alright? I have nowhere to be. Ugh." I flung my arms trying to stop her with my face against the soft pillow.

That was when the realization hit me that my pillow isn't as soft-hell, it wasn't even soft. My ass is way softer than it. I was in another place, a completely different world. And so, I jerked up and was surprised by Elena Baldwin's face, Mr. Volkov's personal assistant.

It all came rushing back to me. The job interview, approval, the email, and then...Ana-

"She's pricked herself trying to get her pajamas off." She states.

I bend my head in confusion. "Huh?" I try to remain "professional" even whilst sitting on the luxurious queen sized bed.

How does one get pricked by their pajamas? I thought to myself.

"It's custom made for her. She tends to take things off she's uncomfortable in. I would know." She analyses me briefly and then turns around sharply, her footsteps receding with the noises those expensive heels make. I groan and slump backwards.

I mimic Miss Elena, "I would know. Tch."

Curious, I swung my legs off the bed, the cool wooden floor brushing against my feet. I pulled on my robe, still groggy, my mind fuzzy from sleep. As I shuffled out into the hallway, the voice that had caught my attention grew louder, more urgent. It was Anastasia as Miss Elena had said.

I reached the wide living room just in time to see Anastasia standing near the couch, looking confused and upset, one hand clutching the side of her pink, silky pajamas. A few small rhinestones from the fabric sparkled on the floor like lost stars, and a faint red mark appeared on her delicate skin where the sharp edge of a button had pricked her.

"Nanny..." Anastasia's voice was shaky. "I... I think I hurt myself."

I rushed over, kneeling beside her, concern flooding my chest. I gently pried the small hand away from the spot and inspected the tiny prick. The little mark was already fading, but the look on Anastasia's face made my heart ache.

"It's okay, sweetie," I said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "You're alright, just a little scratch. But those pajamas... they're not so great, huh?"

Anastasia sniffled, nodding as she blinked back tears. I smiled reassuringly and helped her sit on the couch.

"Let's get those off you, and I'll find something more comfortable," I said, my voice calm but firm. "Those shiny buttons are a bit dangerous, don't you think?"

Anastasia nodded, still clutching her robe tightly, but with a bit of relief in her eyes as I gave her a warm hug. It was a small moment, but I couldn't help but feel a pang of protectiveness as I gently began to undress Anastasia, making a mental note to avoid anything with sharp edges next time.

"Now let's get you bathed and prepared for school." I say softly with a wide smile.

~ ~ ~

It was a bright and cold afternoon. I was well covered, after all it was snowing at the moment.

Earlier this morning, I called Lou and filled her in on what's been happening. I could tell she was giggling all the way through. She also was excited about meeting Anastasia one day. Hopefully, lol.

Then we talked about Miss Elena but not in a bad way. We just share the same view about her which is her slightly sassy attitude but in a funny way. At least, that's how I see it.

Anastasia. I couldn't wait to see her, to pick her up and take her wherever she needed to go, wherever she wanted to go. As I stepped outside into the crisp afternoon air, I spotted the familiar black limousine idling near the curb, its polished surface gleaming in the sunlight. Volkov's limousine. The kind of car that made heads turn. It was an understatement to say it felt out of place here, but I couldn't help the small thrill that always came with riding in it.

As I approached, the car's tinted windows rolled down just enough for the driver to spot me. He was a tall, quiet man, his expression unreadable.

"Miss Clarke," he said with a polite nod, opening the door for me. "Mr. Volkov's instructions were clear. He's asked to make sure you're as comfortable as possible."

I smiled at his formality. Volkov's world always had a certain sharpness to it, even in the details. But I wasn't here for the luxury. I was here for Anastasia.

I settled into the back seat, feeling the soft leather beneath me, the hum of the engine starting up, and my heart beating just a little faster. I couldn't help but wonder how Anastasia was doing-was she smiling? Was she waiting eagerly, like she always did?

The drive was smooth, the world outside passing by in a blur of urban life. I thought about her-how she'd be standing by the school gates, waiting for me, looking up at the car with that familiar, hopeful expression. I couldn't wait to see that face, to take her hand and get her out of that building, away from the clatter and noise.

The limousine turned the corner and I saw the school building. How majestic and beautiful; I was in awe.

I didn't realize the driver was watching me through the rear view mirror. He tried to hide his smile; how professional. "You look like you saw an angel, Miss Clarke." He remarks.

I remain quiet for a while and then he swerves into the parking lot . Obviously, it was already getting filled up. Another display of wealth and affluence. I'm glad I wore something presentable.

He comes to open the door for me at which I was fairly surprised but remained composed as I stepped out. "To answer your question, Zander, I'm going to see one."