Page 8 of Devil Seeks Nanny

Detective McCarthy—more like detective Useless—just stares at me, impatience flashing across his eyes. “Miss Elliott, I think it’s in your best interest not to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he says, and his words sting because how could I not want to know more? Dad is dead, and there’s a possibility that he was killed on purpose, as crazy as it may sound. “You should be at home, grieving. Not trying to stir trouble.”

My lips part, incredulity stealing my words. The look in his eyes is hard and intense, and a shiver rolls down my spine as another wild thought creeps through my head. Does he. . . Does he know something, and he’s hiding it from me on purpose? Does he know that it wasn’t just some faulty electrical cable and that the fire was set intentionally?

Is he covering for someone?

I sound like I’m spinning out of my head, but I can’t help it. Being a nanny for so many years has my senses heightened for any sign of trouble, having to take care of kids and always know their whereabouts and what they’re doing. And right now, I can feel it in my bones that something is not right. Like an itch that I can’t scratch.

But I know that the answers I want, I won’t get here. Detective McCarthy clearly isn’t being forthcoming, and the thought of my dad’s killer being out there with no repercussions is inconceivable. I came back home to be with my dad, and now he’s been taken away from me. I can’t let that happen.

So, if the cops won’t help me, I know someone who will be able to. I just have to accept a job offer first.

Chapter 6

BRUNO

Two small bodies jump on me, pulling me out of my slumber immediately. Giggles bounce off of the walls of my bedroom, and I blink open my eyes to the sight of Monica and Matteo jumping on the mattress around me, with wide grins on both of their faces. I chuckle deeply at the sight of them. There are worse ways to wake up.

“Are you two on a sugar rush this morning?” I ask them, an arm folded under my head as I watch them jump. They’re still in their pajamas, dark hair messy from sleep.

“No,” Matteo says with an exaggerated shake of his head. He jumps before landing on his knees right next to me, grin wide and toothy. “You said you’ll make breakfast. It’s breakfast time!”

My lips tug up. I did say that. “Alright, alright,” I say, pushing myself up to a seating position. “What are you two in the mood for? French toast? Pancakes? Waffles?”

In true twin fashion, they simultaneously yell out, “Pancakes!”

I stand up from the bed, wrapping an arm around each of them before lifting them up and setting them on the ground. “Then pancakes it is.”

They squeal in delight, and Monica doesn’t let go of my hand until the three of us are downstairs in the kitchen. I switch the TV on, flipping to the channel that plays cartoons early in the morning while putting on a pot of coffee for myself and for Gloria, for when she wakes up. I told her to sleep in today, both because I wanted to make breakfast with the kids and because Gloria needs her rest. I’m not completely heartless. Sometimes.

Matteo is distracted by the show, so I turn to Monica and raise an eyebrow. “Are you going to be my sous-chef?”

Monica nods enthusiastically, although I’m pretty sure she has no idea what the hell I’m talking about. “Yes!”

I gather the ingredients to make the pancakes and set Monica so she’s sitting on the counter before handing her the wooden spoon and telling her, “Okay, mix this really well.”

Monica nods, her features setting in adorable determination as she begins to stir with both hands, and I use one to keep the bowl in place. As she does so, I pull out my phone and look through the emails and texts I’ve received throughout the night, pausing when I notice a text message from an unknown number.

Good morning, Mr. Cataldi. This is Diana Elliott. I was hoping we could meet sometime today about your job offer. I have something I would like to discuss with you.

My eyebrow arches as I read her message. Does this mean she’s changed her mind after all? Pleasant surprise courses through me, but curiosity also pokes at my brain. I’m assuming she has some stipulations about the position—I wouldn’t be surprised if she did; it’s not every day you’re given a job offer from a man like me.

So, I text her back, telling her to meet me in my office downtown at two o’clock, pocketing my phone afterward to continue making breakfast for my kids. Whatever Miss Elliott wants, I can’t guarantee that I will deliver, but I want to hear her out anyway. Maybe she will surprise me.

*****

The door to my office opens, and Raf appears on the threshold. “Miss Elliott is here to see you, Boss.”

I lift my gaze from the file I’d been reading. “Send her in,” I say with a single nod. Raf looks to his right, out in the hallway, before stepping aside and waving Diana in. She stands in the doorway, dressed simply in jeans and a shirt, makeup-free, and somehow her mere arrival in the office seems to brighten the place up. I dismiss that thought immediately as I lift my chin. “Miss Elliott. Take a seat.”

Diana glances back at Raf for a moment before looking at me again. She approaches my desk, and I don’t see a hint of hesitation or fear in her eyes. Either she’s excellent at masking her emotions, or she truly doesn’t feel either of those things. I’m not sure which one I’d be more impressed by.

“Mr. Cataldi,” Diana says as she sits down on the chair opposite me. Raf shuts the door, leaving just the two of us, and Diana doesn’t break her gaze from mine. Her blue eyes are bright, burning with a kind of fire that I hadn’t expected. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

I will myself not to give her a once-over. “Your text had me intrigued,” I tell her, leaning back in my leather chair. “Have you reconsidered your answer to my offer?”

“I have,” Diana says with a nod. I don’t celebrate just yet. It’s obvious she wants something in exchange for being my new nanny. She lifts her chin, the determined expression on her features fierce. “On the condition that you look into who started the bakery fire and killed my father.”

Her words surprise me, though my expression remains flat and stoic. Recognition clicks easily; the bakery fire—her father was the man who ran it. Benny Elliott. He was found dead in the bakery, and according to both the authorities and my men, the fire wasn’t set intentionally.

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