Page 1 of Nanny to the Mafia

PROLOGUE

FLORINA – A RANDOM GYPSY GIRL

One moment, it was hot and humid, and the next, it wasn’t. The dark and heavy clouds came out of nowhere and showed their faces to Palermo. Like the devil had mopped hell and poured out the filthy water, the clouds let go of their burden, drowning the garden in a torrent of rain.

Not that Florina had any complaints. If it wasn’t for the rain, Peppe would have made her suck him off in the backyard. He didn’t seem to fancy getting his dick wet, though, so he dragged her inside. At least now she could finally see the house, and it didn’t disappoint. What a fancy mansion it was.

Even as her feet pitter-pattered through the house, following Peppe along the long hallway, her eyes gobbled up the wealth of its interior. The ritzy paintings and glittering chandeliers pulled at the itch in her hands. Peppe drew to a halt in front of a big brown door, making her smack into him. He pulled the door open and pushed her in. “No touch!”

She stumbled onto the marble floors, but her eyes caught on the double-height ceiling. The room was massive. It stood tall like a big wizard and looked down at her with wisdom. At least that’s what all the shelves filled with books exuded.

“What this?” she asked.

“Library,” Peppe huffed. “Wait there.” She followed his finger to where he pointed to the dark loft up the stairs. He pushed her further into the room and pulled the door closed behind him with a soft thud.

Florina eyed the room. Even though he had put her in the dullest room, she could see that these people were wallowing in money.

Ignoring anyone's warning was second nature to her, but she didn’t want to piss Peppe off and miss the opportunity of a meal. Like the obedient child she had never been, she reluctantly went up the spiral metal stairs. She moved around in the balcony of the room they called a library, filled again with shelf after shelf of books. The sofa in front of the shelves was the only other addition. She grabbed one book after another with her dirty, wet hands. Rich people and their books.

There was nothing to keep her amused here. She leaned over the balcony to glance down at the massive area surrounded by more shelves and more books. Unlike the small hidden alcove she was in, the ground floor was grand and massive for a library. A library. You must be really rich to have an entire hall for your books. This room alone was ten times bigger than her family home in Romania, she was sure.

There was a nice-looking sofa in front of the window. Some dark-coloured liquid in a fancy bottle sat on the table next to it. It tempted her to go down and have a sip.

Bet it would taste good. Rich people always have good stuff.

She flicked her glance towards the door. What was keeping Peppe? He never took long to get her something yummy to fill her belly. She liked this deal she had with him. Food for sucking him off. He was easy too. She showed him her boobs, and a few minutes of his dick in her mouth, and he came as hard as a waterfall. Extra protein for her, like her mama would say. She had, of course, neglected to inform him she was providing the same services to Alonzo next door in exchange for lodging. Men and their dicks.

Her stomach grumbled. Yesterday, the Capizzi sons had been home, and Peppe didn’t dare meet her. He was terrified of the two brothers. He pretended not to be, but what he didn’t know was while she roamed the back door looking for food and some extra knick-knacks to grab, she often heard the maids jabber in the kitchen. She was poor but not an idiot. She understood Italian contrary to what these people assumed of her. Idiots who didn’t know they shared a Latin language. Oh yes, Peppe was terrified of the men. Then again, who wouldn’t be when the Capizzi’s were a part of The Mafia family? Another thing he assumed she didn't know. The man really thought with his dick. Anyone in Palermo and beyond knew that the old man Capizzi was the consigliere for the family.

He was even more of an idiot to think she was content with their arrangement. This was just a stepping stone in her plan. All she needed to do was capture the attention of one of the Capizzi brothers, and she was set for life.

Everyone knew how the old man Capizzi had fallen into the trap of his now wife. Fuck a man, get pregnant, and deal. If it worked for that woman, who was a two-faced bitch as good as they get, it would definitely work for her. She was known for her beauty, and seducing a man with her ample boobs and willing pussy was simple work for her.

Finally.

The door opened to reveal… fuck.

She slunk down into the dark alcove and ducked her head out of sight. The glint of a wheelchair had caught her eye. What was the old man Capizzi doing here? It was past time for him to be sealed off in his coffin. It was already a shocker that his conniving wife hadn’t killed him off. She listened to the wheels rolling in, followed by… footsteps. She frowned.

“Grazie, figlio mio.” The old man’s voice hinted at death nearby.

“Un momento, Papà.”

Oh, whose sexy voice was that?

Florina inched her face up and peaked down in between the iron rods. This must be the eldest son. She had already seen the younger one, and he was a fine specimen to fuck. She would gladly push him off the ledge for this one.

This one was hotter. She watched him walk towards the door to close it. All muscle and strength like a rich man. Not like the bodybuilder bodies of security men who she had gotten a taste of. This one looked like he got out of bed looking like one of those sculptured gods from their garden. Money and body and she was a goner, but this one's hair was so … rich…unusual. He had very thick hair going in slight waves. Dark, dark brown mixed with a bit of silver grey, like what you would find in a nickel. She wanted to run her hands through his hair. She looked down at her hands. Well, after she washed them first. Rich men didn’t do dirty.

He closed the door and walked over to join his father near the sofa.

Cristo.

If his back was yummy, his front was delicious. Like a fine piece of meat on a barbeque wrapped in thick gravy. She wanted a piece of him. The man had a beard. Not the wild ones she was used to, but one of those that rich people had. Faintly there, nicely trimmed and taken care of, barely there type of thing. Civilised. Yes, that was it. One of those civilised and fancy-looking beards the models on the bus stand advertising had.

When he sat down on the sofa, with his legs spread wide, he was almost directly below her. She snuck slightly back into the shadows reluctantly. Even the way he moved spoke of power and money as he poured himself some of that liquid and drank from it. Florina watched him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. Her hunger for food evaporated into the air. She was horny now, and all she wanted was right below her. She smacked her lips quietly.

“It’s good to have a few minutes of peace,” Old Man Capizzi spoke.

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