Page 11 of Devil Seeks Nanny

When I’m alone, I move quickly to change, not wanting to dwell in my thoughts for too long. I open up one of the suitcases and pull out a pair of jeans and a shirt, shimmying out of the dress and heels before putting the new outfit on. I slip into a pair of comfortable flats before pocketing my phone and exiting the room.

I try to recall the way Gloria had led me, and my years of memorizing the layouts of large houses pay off as I easily find the staircase and head down, walking toward the foyer before catching sight of the threshold that opens into the living room. But it’s empty. “Gloria?” I call out.

“In here!” I hear her respond, and I follow the sound of her voice through the living room, and down a short hall before I’m in the kitchen. She throws me a sheepish smile. “Sorry, sweetheart. I thought I’d get some tea going for us as I fill you in.”

I join her at the counter, and Gloria goes into business mode as she pours us each a cup. “I don’t think there’s much I need to tell you, given that you’ve got your own years of experience nannying,” Gloria begins, and I nod as I add some sugar to my mug. She slides over a paper toward me. “This is the twins’ daily schedule. Mr. Cataldi isn’t too strict on their screen time, but he’d prefer it if they spent most of their time doing activities like playing outside or in their playroom, coloring, and now that they’re getting older, beginning to get homeschooled.”

I listen intently to what Gloria tells me. Most of which I already know from past experience, but it’s important to listen to the parents and the nannies of the kids you’re taking over because every family is unique. Gloria informs me of the kids’ likes and dislikes, any dietary restrictions, and how a typical day goes. It’s all pretty standard and, frankly, part of me had been worried that taking care of Monica and Matteo would be different than taking care of any kind from Hollywood since their dad is a legitimate criminal. But it isn’t. Either way, I listen carefully, welcoming the distraction from thinking about my dad too much.

As I listen to Gloria, I find myself hoping and praying that Bruno keeps his word and finds out who killed my dad. A small part of me is hoping that the bakery fire really was just an accident—a horrible, tragic accident. But is there any peace in knowing that my dad is gone because of some faulty electric wire? Would there be any peace in knowing that someone had purposefully killed my father? I doubted it. But at least then I’d have someone to blame. Someone who would surely pay for their actions because they set fire to a building owned by Bruno Cataldi, and I very much doubt that the most feared mob boss would let something like that slide.

The fear he invokes in people is real, and I’m hoping to use it to my advantage. To bring dad’s killer to justice, I sure as hell will.

“Oh, and one last thing,” Gloria says after she wraps up details on the twins. She chuckles slightly and says, “It’s not entirely too important but try to get Mr. Cataldi to drink some water when he comes home at the end of the day.” She clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “That man will be fully dehydrated if I didn’t put a glass of water in his hand whenever he walks through the door. He lives off his cigarettes and Scotch, and that just won’t do.”

Despite the pain that has latched itself onto my heart following dad’s death, I find the corners of my mouth tipping up at Gloria’s words. It’s kind of amusing that the big, bad mob boss needs his nanny to make sure he’s drinking enough water. And that very soon, it’ll be my job to make sure he does. The thought makes my stomach flip, but I push it aside.

Handing him a glass of water is something I can do, but I’m not here for Bruno. I’m here for Monica, Matteo, and my dad. And that’s how it will remain.

Chapter 8

BRUNO

Coming into the kitchen, smelling fresh coffee, and seeing that Diana’s the one who made it and not Gloria does not surprise me, but it will take some getting used to. Diana is already dressed for the day, like myself, when I enter the kitchen. However, while I’m in slacks and a button-down, Diana wears high-waisted linen pants and a top with a hem that ends right where the band of her pants is, just barely showing a sliver of her skin. She is bright-eyed as she looks over at me while sipping her coffee and gestures to the coffee maker.

“I made enough for two cups,” she tells me as I open a cabinet to pull out my mug.

I don’t say anything to that. She’s on the other side of the kitchen, sitting by the window as she drinks her coffee. The kids don’t need to be up for another ten minutes, so the house is quiet but bright as sunshine bathes the kitchen through the large windows. As I sip my coffee, I look at Diana, and if she feels my gaze on her, she doesn’t let on.

I don’t insult her by asking if she’s ready for her first day with the twins on her own. Despite the fact that she only had yesterday to see how Gloria ran things, I don’t doubt Diana’s abilities in being a highly coveted nanny. Gloria’s last day was yesterday, and the twins had been teary-eyed when she was leaving. I had told Gloria that if she needed anything, to just call; I’d already set her up with the best doctors money could buy, and I had ignored Diana’s mild look of surprise when she heard my parting words to Gloria.

“There are some things we need to go over,” I say, breaking the silence. Diana looks at me expectantly. There are some things she needs to know that I haven’t had the chance to tell her yet, and now’s the best time as any before her first official day starts. “Gloria gave you the kids’ schedule but I expect you to report to me the day’s activities every evening when I come home. I want to know what they got up to, their behavior—the works.” Diana nods, like she expected this, though she listens intently. I keep my dark eyes locked with her blue, and I’m mildly impressed when she doesn’t break eye contact. “Security will always accompany you if you need to go out somewhere with the twins.”

That’s non-negotiable. Whether they’re going to the park, the movies, wherever—security is a must and so is the transport in one of my cars. The last thing I want to do is keep my kids cooped up in the house, as grand as it may be. They’re kids—they’re going to want to go out. I will never hold them back unless it’s under the direst circumstances.

“And if you do go out with them,” I continue, “It will be in one of my vehicles. They’re bulletproof.”

Diana’s eyes widen ever so slightly at that last word; it’s a subtle, minuscule movement but I catch it easily. My jaw clenches a bit before I raise my eyebrows at her. “I hope you’re not kidding yourself about who you’re working for,” I tell her tightly. I’d hope she knew what she was getting herself into when she agreed to work for me, especially after what happened to her father.

She straightens, her expression smoothing out as her hands remain cupped around her mug. “I’m fully aware, Mr. Cataldi,” Diana says coolly, and my own grip on my mug tightens at the way she addresses me. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about her calling me that, but it pulls some kind of reaction out of me. How irritating.

“The whole house is available to you,” I say, finishing up my brief instructions. “Except for the master bedroom and my office down the hall.”

Diana nods, listening carefully. She stands up then, offering a flash of a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes before saying, “I’ll go wake up the kids.”

She leaves without another word, confidence and purpose in every step, and despite myself, I find myself smirking into my next sip of coffee. Not many people, upon meeting me, can easily turn their back on me. Miss Diana Elliott is an intriguing woman, indeed. One I have to remind myself not to indulge in.

*****

“We’re looking at traffic cameras around the bakery, Boss, but—” Leo’s jaw clenches, his aggravation clear. Whatever he’s about to say, I know it’ll piss me off, too. “There’s a blind spot at the back of the building. We haven’t seen anything yet through the cameras, so I’m guessing whoever came in, they took advantage of that one spot.”

Not at all what I want to hear.

I light up a cigarette, needing something to calm me down, though I know the cigarette won’t do much. Of course, this shit wasn’t going to be easy. If the bakery fire was intentional, then whoever did it obviously planned it out well if they knew where the camera blind spot was. There is still a part of me hoping that it truly was an electrical cable malfunction, but I didn’t get to where I am today by being that fucking naïve.

I blow a plume of smoke out, staring out of the window that gives a brilliant city view. My city office is where I conduct all of my business, whether it’s on this side of being legal or that. None of it ever takes place in my home, other than quick meetings with Raf and Leo, since they’re my most trusted men. No one else, especially people that aren’t my own, is allowed to step foot on my property.

“There aren’t any accessible cameras in the buildings around the bakery?” I question, raising an eyebrow.

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