Page 3 of Nanny to the Mafia

Florina’s belly let out a loud rumble. She watched in horror as two pairs of eyes shot instantly in her direction.

Fuck.

Hot Capizzi shot out of the sofa and was upon her in an instant, hurling her to her feet by yanking on her arm.

She was going to die. This close, his dark brown eyes were almost black, with a never-ending depth to them. Death was upon her.

“Who the fuck are you?” The roar rolling out of him sent her eardrums trilling.

The vibration of it left a daze in its wake. Noise reduced. Movements slowed. Fear vanished. With death nearing, she found peace. Gone was her hunger. She noticed the small things cloaking them. His grip on her arm, like a metal vise. His jaw sharp, enough to kill with it. His smell, a mixture of something woody and something else. It reminded her of autumn. She just couldn’t pinpoint what that other smell was. Wood and…

Her muteness worked on his patience. He shook her hard like a ragged doll. Her teeth clattered.

“Who is she?” Old Capizzi’s voice floated up.

“Like fuck if I know.” He turned around and dragged her down the stairs, behind him, like a cloth the maids used to mop the floor and threw her in front of his father.

“She one of the maids?”

Old Capizzi rolled closer to look at her. “No.” A frown foamed in between his brows. “She’s not from here. You speak Italian?”

A different smell snuck into her nostrils and pulled her back to reality. The stink shrouding Old Capizzi was one that reeked of hospitals.

“Your name, girl?” Old Capizzi asked in Romanian.

She fought off the face of recognition. These people weren’t idiots. If they knew, she would be dead.

“Is she dumb? What are you doing here?” Hot Capizzi’s voice was no longer hot. It sounded mad and violent, with a rage building up that she didn’t want to face.

Her stomach rumbled again loudly, drawing attention to her basic needs.

The door opened behind them. Peppe stood there, mouth open, holding a bowl of food in his trembling hands.

Hot Capizzi snapped his fingers at him. “Who the fuck is this?” he asked, indicating to her.

“I think Peppe knows the girl,” Old Capizzi said, his shrewd gaze looking from him to her. “Does the girl speak our language?” he asked him in Italian.

“No, Signor,” Peppe answered, letting out a violent diarrhoea of streaming words. “I would never bring in someone… She was hungry… was at the back door… I just wanted to give her some food… help her out… She must have sneaked inside…somehow….”

Old Capizzi chuckled while the son looked like he might blow a fuse. “Learn to keep your fucking dick in your pants,” he bellowed to Peppe, who looked like he might chop it off himself right now rather than stand here.

Hot Capizzi pulled her up again and drew her close to him. Sandalwood. That was the other smell. “If I ever see you anywhere near us again… I will deliver you as food to your family, in a fucking box.”

“Get her out of here.” He pushed her into Peppe, who caught on to her and started dragging her away. “One more thing, Peppe.” He sauntered closer to the frozen man. “You do this again, and I will cut off your fucking dick. Capisti?”

“Sì, sì, spiacente, Signor.” Mumbling, fumbling idiot, Peppe dragged her out of the room and ditched her outside without the food bowl in the rain.

“Don’t think of stepping foot here again. Fucking gipsies. Getting me into trouble as well.”

He slammed the door on her face. Florina was disappointed. Not in Peppe. She had had little hope in him to begin with. Not even in her missed chance of getting some food into her. It was rather that throughout that exchange, Hot Capizzi had not once looked at her ample bosom.

CHAPTER ONE

FOUR YEARS LATER

YULIYA

Red ants crawled up her skin and burnt her alive. The paths they burnt led to her heart, and everywhere they touched erupted into a fucking fire. A fire that reached deep inside and pounded to the beat of an elephant stampede. The outside world drowned in white noise. All she heard was the pounding of her craving. All she tasted was her craving. All she breathed was her craving. Her deep, deep craving for the next high.

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