Page 2 of Devil Seeks Nanny

Dad rolls his eyes at my questions. “Yes, yes I did, don’t worry,” he grumbles. He shoots me a dry smile. “What’re you, my mother?”

I just grin. “Oh, how the tables have turned.”

Dad waves me off, though I can see his smile forming. “Shut up and eat your food.”

My smile only widens. It’s so good to be home.

Chapter 2

BRUNO

“This? This is the best we’ve got?”

Antonio stands in front of my desk, hands clasped behind his back. His face remains expressionless, which is unsurprising, standing still and stoic like the good soldier he is. “These are all the available nannies in the area, Boss.”

I clench my jaw, exhaling sharply through my nose as I lean back in the leather chair. My left elbow rests on the armrest of the chair, fingers to my lips as I look at the multiple open files in front of me, spread on my desk. Almost a dozen women’s faces smile back at me, but none of them jumps out. Not that I’m surprised—the ones that don’t impress me are women who are underqualified to be my children’s nanny, and others reject the offer as soon as they found out whose kids they would be looking after.

No one wants to take care of a mob boss’s kids.

How fucking inconvenient.

“Half of these women aren’t qualified enough, Tony,” I tell him, my gaze sweeping distastefully over the papers carefully strewn about before lifting my gaze to look at him. “Do you want my kids to be looked after by someone who isn’t up to my standards?”

“Of course not, Boss,” Tony says. “I’ll keep searching for more candidates.”

I just dip my chin once. “Good.”

He knows that’s a dismissal, so he just nods, turns, and walks out of my office, leaving me staring at the files. Frustration mounts, and I open a drawer to pull out a pack of cigarettes, placing one between my lips and flicking the lighter on. How fucking hard is it to find a nanny that has all of the right qualifications and passes a background check—who is willing to work for me and my family? Surely, there’s someone out there.

Not for the first time, Gloria’s decision to quit has me taking a deep drag of the cigarette. It’s not her fault, I know. She’s been looking after the twins since they were born, and I’m grateful for the five years she has spent with my family. But Gloria is also old— much older than me—and her health has taken a turn, forcing her to quit so she can take care of herself. She is a loyal, hard-working woman and I’m grateful for the time she has spent with my kids, Monica and Matteo. But her having to leave has forced a headache upon me, having to find her replacement before she leaves.

So far, not a single nanny has shown promise. And if one has, they don’t want to take the job. I guess they know better than to work for Bruno Cataldi. My name has the tendency to strike fear in most people here in San Francisco, just how I like it. Right now, however, it’s proving to be slightly inconvenient.

I exhale a cloud of smoke, my eyes sweeping over the papers once more. There’s plenty of business to take care of, I’m well aware, but I can’t focus on much until I get this headache sorted. My children’s lives take precedence over everything else, and that includes finding the perfect nanny for them; one that has no qualms in moving into my place, devoting most of her time to looking after Monica and Matteo and, preferably, home-schooling them as well.

But, apparently, finding the perfect nanny is fucking impossible in the city of San Francisco.

I’m aware of the presence in my office doorway before he even speaks up. “You look like you could use a drink. Or five,” Leonardo, my second in command, quips as he wanders into my office, shutting the door behind him.

His heavy footsteps thud quietly against the carpet as he makes his way over to the trolley in the corner of the room, one that contains my bottles of Scotch and whiskey and some tumblers. “I could use a fucking nanny,” I say in return, tapping the cigarette against the crystal ashtray.

Leo tosses a smirk my way as he uncaps one of the bottles. “Bit of a cliché, isn’t it?” he asks.

I roll my eyes at the obvious innuendo, the sound of liquid pouring filling the room briefly. “How hard is it to find someone qualified to look after the twins?”

“It’s hard because you’ve got standards none of these ladies are meeting,” Leo says, walking over to the front of my desk and gesturing to the papers. He shrugs slightly. “Or because they’re too scared to work for you.”

“Yes, I couldn’t figure that out for myself,” I say dryly, taking another drag.

Leo chuckles quietly. “I’ve got something,” he says, putting the glass down on the desk before reaching for something in the inner pocket of his coat. He pulls out a file before placing it in front of me. “I think she’ll meet all your requirements.”

I drop my gaze to the folder for a moment before leaning forward, stubbing out the last of my cigarette before I open the file. Immediately, my gaze lands on the photo presented, and my eyebrows pull together slightly. A woman smiles back, with blonde hair chopped to her shoulders and blue eyes that seem to glitter even in the photograph. Youthful, most likely in her late twenties—which I confirm when I look at her birthday, telling me she’s twenty-seven—with a smile that lights up her entire face. Her very attractive, beautiful face.

“Her name’s Diana Elliott,” Leo informs me as I try to drag my gaze away from her picture and read her credentials. I can’t seem to do it. “She’s just returned to San Francisco after living in Los Angeles for the last near-decade. She studied early education, and just happens to be a very sought-after nanny.”

“Is she?” I murmur, almost absently, still looking at her picture. Her features are open and friendly, a quality needed in a nanny.

“She’s looked after the kids of actors, musicians, directors, producers—she’s basically Hollywood’s number one nanny,” Leo continues. “She doesn’t run after jobs—the parents run after her. She meets all of your qualifications, Boss.”

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