Page 28 of Devil Seeks Nanny

I smile at them, grabbing my mug. “My friend just called to tell me that she’s having a baby,” I explain. “So, I’m just really happy for her.”

Matteo nods. “That’s cool,” he says. Sometimes, the five-year-old boy can be so cool and collected, he reminds me so much of his dad.

My heart twists at the thought of Bruno, but then Monica catches my attention. “Babies are cute,” she says with a wide, toothy grin. Then she tilts her head, looking up at me with innocent green eyes as she asks, “When will you have a baby, Diana?”

Her question makes me choke on my sip of coffee, completely catching me off guard. “Um—”

Matteo hops onto Monica’s question. “Will you still take care of us if you have a baby?”

For some reason, my face feels like it’s on fire. When my startled cough subsides, I put the mug down and look at the siblings. “Uh, I’m not sure when I’ll have a baby,” I answer carefully. Dear God, this isn’t a conversation I expected to have today. “So, you know, you don’t have to worry about me not taking care of you just yet.”

The reality is, I do want to someday have kids—of course, I do. I’ve spent my life taking care of other people’s children, and I want to someday settle down and take care of my own. To be a mother instead of a nanny. But when will that be? With who—

“I know!” Matteo suddenly speaks up. Now, he looks much more animated than his father, his dark green eyes glimmering with the beginnings of an idea as he looks from his sister to me. He grins as he says, “You and daddy should have a baby! Then, you can stay with us, and we’ll have a baby brother!”

Monica nudges him, frowning. “Or baby sister!”

That has the two of them dissolving into arguing about what’s better, a baby brother or a baby sister. But the twins are completely oblivious to the stupor they’ve thrown me in, gaping at them in incredulity while my heart threatens to jump out of my chest and out of the second-story window.

You and daddy should have a baby!

I don’t even know how knowledgeable Monica and Matteo are in terms of where babies come from, but judging by Matteo’s words, they know it takes two to tango. But those same words echo in my head, throat dry at the not-so-innocent image Matteo’s innocent idea puts in my head—the image of what Bruno and I did last night. It’s easy to get attached to such lovely kids, and Monica and Matteo are no exception to it. But knowing they like me enough to want me around all of the time, to the point where they suggest I have a baby with their father, is overwhelming.

Of course, I understand they’re just kids who don’t know the severity of the idea they’re throwing around, but it settles deep into my head, and I can’t hope to get the image out. A life with Bruno—why can I imagine myself having that so easily? What we did last night certainly doesn’t help matters, and now this.

As much as I try to tell myself all of the reasons that it would never work—because he’s seventeen years older than me, because he’s all rough edges while I’m not, because I’m just his employee, because he’s, for all intents and purposes, a criminal—I know it’s fruitless. Rationality seems to take a backseat as I let myself drift into the fantasy of imagining a life with him, with the twins.

Raising them as more than just their nanny. Being with Bruno—kissing him, touching him, loving him, and having him love me in return. . .

He’s capable of it—of love. I’ve seen it when he looks at his children. It’s a different kind of love, sure, but it’s there. He loved his late wife—I can tell he did.

Would he be able to love me?

I inhale sharply. Get a hold of yourself, Diana. These are all musings of a crazy woman. Last night could very well have only been a one-off. Besides, how many shows depict unhinged nannies who grow inappropriate attachments for the children they’re looking after, inappropriate feelings for their fathers? I cringe—how much porn is made of this exact scenario? Of nannies or babysitters with the fathers?

God, I don’t want to be one of those people—even though I kind of already am.

And yet, I think of Bruno, and my heart does a stupid leap in my chest. Maybe I am fucked.

In more ways than one.

Chapter 18

BRUNO

I toss my jacket on the leather couch as I pass it before settling down on my chair behind the desk. It’s quiet in the house, given that it’s just a little past midnight, and I huff out a long breath. Leaning back in the chair, I run my fingers through my hair, uncaring if I mess it up. Work had been concluded long ago after I brokered some new deals, attended meetings, the usual. No blood spilled today, but it’s only Tuesday.

After the business day, I’d gone to one of my clubs, hosting a poker night in one of the back rooms with Leo, Raf, and a few other men. But no matter how hard I tried to focus on the game, my mind kept drifting back to Diana.

Even now, I swear I can still taste her.

I hadn’t seen her this morning before I’d left for the day, and I wonder if she’s avoiding me after what happened last night. Did she regret it? We crossed a line I don’t think either of us expected us to, and it is surely going to change things in some way. If I’m being honest with myself, I don’t regret having sex with her for a second. I hadn’t realized how deeply she had gotten under my skin, but after tasting her on my tongue, after being inside of her, I know I’m fooling myself—I will never be able to have enough.

And the mere idea of her avoiding me this morning makes my fingers curl into my palms, jaw clenching. The fact of the matter is, I’m two seconds away from storming down to her room, demanding to know what’s going through her head, when there’s a knock on my home office door.

My gaze snaps to it, the door on the opposite end of the room. “Come in,” I state, voice loud enough for the person on the other end to hear me clearly.

The door creaks open, and I wipe my expression clean. Stoicism is my best friend; it’s what makes people shift uncomfortably when I fix them with that kind of stare. But I wonder, as Diana steps into the office, if she can see the heat in my stare that I so deeply can feel running through my blood. The sight of her has such a visceral reaction on my body, and it’s a miracle I had avoided acting on it up until last night.

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