Page 5 of Devil Seeks Nanny

My heart launches itself into my throat. Holy shit. I’m not surprised that money isn’t a big deal to him but, in all honesty, it isn’t to me, either. There are more important things. I straighten my shoulders. “My dad is sick, and I want to spend my time taking care of him. I’m sorry,” I repeat, “But I can’t accept this job.”

Irritation so obviously flashes across his eyes, and for a moment I’m terrified that he really is going to shoot me or something for refusing the job. He turns his head slightly, just so he can rub his lips with his fingers as he thinks for a moment. My stomach is fluttering anxiously, eager to get out of the car.

“I see,” Bruno murmurs, dark eyes on me. He doesn’t say anything else, and I try not to bristle in my seat.

I glance toward the window. We hadn’t moved, but the guy from before stands right outside the door like he’s guarding it. Glancing back at Bruno, I find myself asking, “May I leave?”

Bruno looks at me for another moment, his eyes wandering over my features. I try not to flush under his scrutiny, nor do I tense up when he reaches inside his suit jacket before pulling out a card. He holds it out to me between two fingers. “My business card, in case you change your mind.”

I won’t, but I take the proffered card, not wanting to insult him any more than I probably already have. Bruno gives a single knock on the window of the door, and the man outside opens it. With the card still in my hand, I get out of the car, feeling Bruno’s gaze sear into my back as I try not to stumble on my way out. The door shuts behind me, and the other man doesn’t pay me any attention as he gets back into the front seat before the car is driving off, leaving me standing on the sidewalk.

I feel like I just narrowly escaped death, as dramatic as it sounds. I hope that’s the only time I’ll ever have to see Bruno Cataldi, but a quiet, taunting voice in the back of my head tells me that it won’t be.

*****

“Why are you still here? I thought I told you to leave ten minutes ago?” dad demands as he walks out from the back of the bakery, throwing me an exasperated look.

I hand the customer their change before bidding them goodbye. Looking at my dad, I raise an eyebrow, “Why are you trying to get rid of me so badly?”

He rolls his eyes, coming to stand with me behind the counter. “I’m not. But you have a date, which is a miracle on its own.” He says it with a teasing grin, and it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “And it’s on the other side of town. You still need to get ready—so, go, Diana.”

“God, okay, alright,” I concede, pushing away from the register and making my way around the counter.

I would’ve put up a harder fight, except we already had this conversation ten minutes ago when dad first told me to leave. The date is a spontaneous thing, one that was set up by Cathy after I aired my thoughts on the fact that I haven’t dated in a while, and that I might be interested in it. Especially after dad sat me down and told me that my life can’t revolve around taking care of him without doing anything for myself. In a way, I think, going on this date is to get him to see that I’m also living my life. Who knows, maybe it’ll be fun.

It’s a lazy afternoon anyway, a bit of a slow day. Two other employees are here, so I know if I take off it won’t be a big deal, and dad said he can close on his own. So, I grab my things and wave everyone goodbye, getting into dad’s car. One of the employees said they’d drop him home, so dad handed me the keys to his Volks Wagon, and I’m off to get ready.

I’ve never really been someone who goes on blind dates, but I figured this would be a good start in dipping my toe back into the dating scene. Cathy arranged the date with a coworker of her husband who she has met a couple of times, telling me he’s a nice, handsome guy. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure if I was excited about the date, or just cautiously anticipating it. I don’t think I had much of any expectations, wanting to see how I’d feel once the night is over, but I’ve been sitting at the restaurant for about half an hour and the guy isn’t even here yet.

My leg is bouncing under the table as I sip my water and look at my phone screen, opened to the text conversation with Colin, my supposed date. He hasn’t even read my messages, telling him I’m at the restaurant and then asking where he is. Embarrassment heats up my skin because it’s obvious I’ve been stood up, completely ghosted.

“Typical,” I mutter to myself, gathering my things. Of course, the first time I decide to go out with a guy in a while, it goes like this.

As I make my way out of the restaurant, crossing the parking lot to my car, my phone starts ringing. It’s Marley, one of the bakery employees. “Diana!” she exclaims as soon as I answer, not letting me get a word in. In just uttering my name, I instantly hear the panic in her voice. “Oh, my God, Diana—the bakery. It’s on fire,” she rushes out, prompting me to freeze right next to my car. “I’ve been trying to call your dad, but he hasn’t been answering. Diana, you need to get here now.”

I can’t think of anything. All that’s echoing in my head is bakery and on fire and the fact that dad isn’t answering his phone. I don’t remember hanging up on Marley, or getting in my car and beginning to drive toward the bakery.

But it all comes to a head when I’m sitting in the middle of a traffic jam, the air conditioner blasting to cool down my overheated body as the panic pulses through me. I try calling my dad, over and over again, but his phone keeps going to voicemail, and with each unanswered call, my stomach churns and nausea rolls through me.

“Please be okay,” I whisper to myself, my voice shaking in the otherwise silence of my car. “Please, please be okay.” I look ahead, at what seems like a sea of cars stopped in front of me in the traffic jam. “Come the fuck on!” I yell, my grip on the steering wheel tightening.

It takes me too long to get out of the traffic jam. It takes too long for me to drive from one part of the city to another. And I wonder, unreasonably, if I had been a little faster if things would be okay.

Because when I get out of the car, the bakery I grew up in is burnt to the ground, lights flashing all around us belonging to the fire trucks, police cars, and ambulance. Dark smoke plumes the air, everything smelling like fire and burnt wood and bricks. It’s all gone. Completely gone.

I can feel my bones trembling as I stumble forward, a crowd of people gathering around as my gaze darts around. “Dad,” I say, too quietly. The panic rises like a scream in my throat as I yell, “Where’s my dad?! Dad!”

I don’t know if I’m pushing through the crowd or if they’re moving out of the way, realizing that this bakery is mine, and I see a few police officers and firefighters looking at me. They exchange some words before a policeman and a fireman make their way toward me. They wear grave looks on their faces, and I cannot breathe.

“Ma’am,” the policeman starts as they stop in front of me. “Does your father work at the bakery?”

There’s a huge lump in my throat, my heart thundering. “Benny Elliott,” I croak out my dad’s name. “He runs the bakery. He’s my dad. Please—is he okay? Where is he?”

The fireman purses his lips, his jaw clenching, while the policeman slowly shakes his head. “I’m sorry, miss,” he starts, and I don’t want him to continue. I don’t want him to say anything I don’t want to hear. I don’t want him to tell me the truth that’s already cementing itself in my head and heart. “Your father was found in the bakery.” No. “He didn’t make it.” No. “I’m so sorry.”

No.

Chapter 4

---