Page 17 of Nanny for the Don

I read the words “Conti Family Syndicate.” What the actual fuck? My eyes widen as I click on one of the headlines, my heart racing. The article talks about him having a business that looks totally legit on the surface, but the article dives into all these rumors and allegations about him being the head of a damnMob family. Is this for real?

I scroll through more articles, each one more intense than the last.. Words like “organized crime,” “underworld connections,” and “Mafia” jump out at me.

My mind is spinning. How did I miss this? The man who just took my virginity might be a freaking mob boss? I take another big gulp of wine, trying to wrap my head around what I’m seeing.

I furiously scroll through articles, trying to piece together what I can, but it’s all so damn murky. Some sources hint that he’s the boss, while others suggest he’s just a front man for something bigger. Nothing is clear, and it’s driving me nuts.

Who is Nico Conti, really? And what the hell have I gotten myself into?

Frustrated, I slam my MacBook shut and fall back onto the bed, letting out an exasperated sigh. I’m still practically buzzing from the sex, and even though I know it’s a terrible idea, I want him again. The memory of his hands on my body, the way he took control, how he filled me so completely—it’s all I can think about.

I close my eyes, letting those memories wash over me. I can still feel the way he moved inside me, the way his muscles tensed with every thrust, the low growl of his voice in my ear as he pushed me closer to the edge. The way he looked at me, like he was hungry for more, and the way he made me feel—so wanted, so alive, so completely his in that moment.

A big, stupid smile spreads across my face as I relive every delicious detail. Despite everything, despite the confusion and chaos, I can’t deny how incredible it was.

As I drift off to sleep, those memories play like a highlight reel in my mind, and I’m left with one delicious thought: I want him again.

It’s early Saturday morning, and I’m stepping into the home gym at the Conti estate just in time for sunrise—the perfect time for yoga.

One of the perks of this job is access to this gym. It has everything you could possibly want—weights, cardio machines, and a huge open, matted space just begging for a good stretch session.

The view is the cherry on top—a stunning snowy garden that looks like something out of a movie. It’s serene, and just what I need to clear my head after the craziness of last night. I set up my laptop on a bench, ready to film some yoga content to edit for YouTube later.

I hit record on my camera, flashing a smile at the lens.“Good morning, yogis! Today, we’re kicking off with a sunrise flow towake up the body and clear the mind. Perfect for those frosty mornings when you need a little extra warmth from within.”

I step onto the mat, taking a deep breath. “We’ll start with some gentle stretches to get the blood flowing, then move into a dynamic Vinyasa sequence to really build some heat. Think lots of sun salutations, warrior poses, and a killer core sequence to finish it off. By the end of this session, you’ll feel energized, grounded, and ready to tackle whatever the day throws at you.”

I move into a gentle cat-cow stretch, feeling the tension in my back start to melt away. “Grab your mat, find a comfy spot, and let’s flow together.”

I go through my routine, starting with a few deep breaths and some gentle stretches.

But as I go through the poses, my mind drifts back to Nico, the memory of his hands on my body, the way he looked at me with that intense gaze. A rush of heat spreads through me, and I find myself biting my lower lip in arousal, totally distracted. My focus slips, and before I know it, I’m wobbling right out of Warrior pose, toppling into a heap on the mat.

“Ugh,” I groan., sighing at my clumsiness. “Guess I’ll have to edit that little tumble out later.” I shake it off and get back into position, pushing through the rest of my routine, even as thoughts of my boss linger at the edges of my mind..

As I finish, I close my eyes and imagine my future—a cute little studio in the West Village, a business that’s all mine. Yoga wouldn’t just be a hobby anymore; it’d be my life.

When I’m done, I close my laptop, feeling good and limber, even if my mind is still half lost in a certain someone. I jump onto the treadmill for a quick burst of cardio, just enough to get my heartpumping.

As I’m hitting my stride, my phone alarm goes off, snapping me back to reality. Almost time to get the girls up and the day started. I slow down, reaching for my phone to silence the alarm, but another chime interrupts me—this one’s a message from Ms. M.

Mr. Conti gave the OK for Christmas decor, it reads.You can drive the girls wherever you need to get it.

A grin spreads across my face. The whole situation is complicated, no doubt, but at least I’ve got something fun to focus on today. I hop off the treadmill, practically bouncing with excitement as I head into the private shower. The warm water cascades over me, washing away the sweat and lingering tension from my workout..

Maybe I can turn this insane situation into something halfway normal.

Chapter 9

Nico

I’m driving through the quiet Sunday morning streets of Manhattan, the city barely waking up as I navigate through the familiar routes.barely up.

Fatigue weighs heavily on me, a consequence of the long, grueling day before. I’d spent most of it chasing down leads, trying to get to the bottom of my father’s murder. The frustration of it all is a constant throb at the back of my skull, and no amount of coffee or determination seems to dull it.

As I’m lost in thought, my phone buzzes. I glance at the screen before answering, recognizing the name instantly. Salvatore “Sal” Mancini. One of the few men I trust in this whole mess.

“What’ve you got for me, Sal?” I ask, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

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