Page 31 of Devil Seeks Nanny

The blood in my veins ices over at that name, and if my jaw clenched even more, I’m sure I’d break a molar or two. My fingers curl into my palms, fists tight. Through clenched teeth, I say, “Go on.”

“We don’t know why Benny borrowed money from Alexei,” Leo continues. “He was supposed to pay him back, but his heart attack set him back, so he wasn’t able to make the payment.” Leo’s lips are thin, most likely taking in my thunderous expression. “Alexei had his men burn down the bakery and Benny as punishment.”

Russians operating in my city, in my territory. They know as well as I do that’s an open declaration of war, working on grounds that don’t belong to them without my permission. Then again, the Russians had no respect for anyone but themselves.

My anger bubbles over, and I wish I had something in my head I could throw at the glass wall. This is not fucking good. I don’t care that Benny borrowed money from Alexei Antonov; I’m pissed the fuck off that Alexei had the fucking balls to operate in my city. Everything that goes on here happens with my permission and knowledge—if I allow it. They didn’t respect that. They spat in my fucking face.

They burned down a building I own. They killed a man who is the father of the woman who I—

Fuck. This is a fucking disaster.

“What do you want to do, Boss?” Raf asks a few minutes after I’ve stewed in my silence and anger.

I want to fucking kill Alexei Antonov and his insignificant little men. I want to slice them open for disrespecting me in my own city.

But I know I can’t.

“Set up a meeting with Antonov,” I tell Raf through gritted teeth. My words have him and Leo exchanging looks of mild surprise. I know they assumed I’d jump straight to murdering all of those assholes, but that can’t happen. “We have to be smart about this. They’re trying to declare war, but we need to settle this shit diplomatically before any more blood is spilled.”

Ironic, coming from me, since I want nothing more than to put my knife and gun to use.

Leo and Raf nod at that before Leo asks me, “Are you going to tell Diana?”

My jaw tightens. I don’t want to but I have to. What other choice do I have?

Chapter 19

DIANA

When I had woken up this morning and it hadn’t been in my own bed, a surprise wasn’t the first thing that flooded through me—it was contentment. The sheets smelled like Bruno—manly and woodsy and fresh, and I had inhaled deeply and buried my face into the pillow. He hadn’t been next to me when I woke up but I wasn’t entirely surprised. I figured he’d gone off to work, even if I did feel a thud of disappointment in my chest when I woke to an empty bed.

But then the spot between my legs had throbbed, reminding me of last night’s activities—from Bruno’s home office to his bedroom—and a flush had heated my cheeks and a smile I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to spread across my face. I went from having never stepped foot in Bruno’s home office and bedroom to being fucked in both. I hadn’t planned for last night to happen, but God, I can’t bring myself to regret any of it. Not when Bruno kissed me like he wanted to devour me and fucked me like he could live with his dick buried in my pussy forever. My mind flashes with images of his mouth on mine, his hands all over my body, and mine all over his. I see his messy dark hair, the tattoo on his chest of Monica and Matteo’s names written in swirling ink, that wicked smirk on his lips as he makes me come over and over again.

I feel like I’ve been on a high from the moment I woke up to now, mid-afternoon, as the kids finish up their lunch. Logically, I know I crossed a line with Bruno—more than once. Fucking the father of the kids I’m nannying? What a freaking cliché; I never wanted to be one of those people. And yet, I crave the heat Bruno looks at me with; I want to be warmed by him. I crave him now more than ever, after knowing what he tastes and feels like. I’m afraid I can’t ever get enough. I don’t know if I can walk away from him even if I wanted to. And I know that I don’t want to.

As much as I haven’t wanted to admit it, even to myself, despite the danger that clings to Bruno, I still somehow feel safe in his presence. Protected. I’ve seen the loving, caring side of him no one else has ever seen, other than Monica and Matteo, and maybe Gloria. I’ve seen his deep love for his children, his grief and gratitude for his late wife, and I see the fire in his eyes whenever he looks at me. The man who has rough edges but is capable of softening them for those close to him.

How can I walk away from that?

“Daddy! You’re home!”

I’m yanked out of my thoughts by Monica’s voice, head snapping up to see Bruno striding into the living room. There’s an intense fluttering in my chest at the sight of him, my mind instantly flashing back to last night. I watch as he gives his kids a smile, but my own falters slightly when I see the tension that bunches his shoulders, the jump of the muscle in his jaw. He’s on edge, I can see it clear as day.

“Hey, honey,” he says to Monica. “I need to talk to Diana for a second, alright?”

The kids nod and I get to my feet even before Bruno’s eyes meet mine. My heart jumps as I follow him out of the kitchen, and suddenly my nerves are running rampant. “Is everything okay?” I ask, hesitant to know the answer.

Once we’re at a good distance away from the kitchen, by the stairs, Bruno turns to look at me. “No,” he says. His jaw works, and I already know whatever it is, it isn’t good. My stomach bottoms out as Bruno’s gruff voice says steadily, “Your father was targeted by the Russians, Diana. He owed some money—for what, I don’t know. But he couldn’t pay it in time because of his heart attack, so they took matters into their own hands. I’m—” His jaw clenches, and I see the hardness in his eyes melt slightly, his gaze softening with genuine sympathy as he finishes, “I’m sorry.”

I’m not sure when I started crying. I didn’t even realize I was until I tasted the salt of my tears on my lips, and my heart pounds so heavily in my ears that I realize I’m not breathing. I inhale a sharp, shuddering breath, and the grief over dad’s death returns tenfold, overwhelming to the point where my knees buckle.

But Bruno is right there. His arms are instantly around me, holding me to him, and I squeeze my eyes shut as I press a trembling hand to my mouth to silence the sobs that escape. My heart aches in a way I didn’t think possible; it had been devastating to lose dad in the first place, but now that it’s confirmed that someone took him from me maliciously, viciously—the pain and grief are unlike any other. It makes my body tremble as I cry into Bruno’s chest and he holds me, comforting me with one arm around my waist and his other hand at the back of my head, stroking my hair.

He whispers in my ears, and through my cries, I know they’re words of reassurance, of comfort. But how can I possibly feel any kind of comfort, knowing what I know now? Part of me wants to know why dad borrowed money from Russians, but a bigger part of me doesn’t care. As much as I wanted him to have just asked me for money, my grief twists into something fiercer—into anger. These people took him away from me, the one person who loved me most in the world.

Did they want to punish him for not paying their money back? Then I want them punished for taking him away.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Bruno is whispering, and I squeeze my eyes shut as he holds me closely, comforting me. The warmth of his solid body relaxes me a bit, but my blood still hums in anger and devastation.

---