Page 47 of Nanny for the Don

I ,” she says with a knowing smile. I take a bite, and for a moment, it’s like the world isn’t crashing down around me.

I take one more bite, then another, and before I even realize it, my plate is clean. The food’s so good, I don’t even care that I practically inhaled it. Without saying a word, Ms. M. scoops another serving onto my plate, and I just keep eating, my eyes fixed on the snow swirling outside.

Eventually, Giulia pipes up, “Can I be excused to watch TV?”

Ms. M smiles at her. “If you get into your pajamas all by yourself, then yes, you can watch a little TV before bed.”

Giulia’s face lights up, and she bolts out of the kitchen, clearly thrilled with the deal. I keep eating until I’m finally, blissfully full, then lean back in my chair, feeling a little more human.

Ms. M watches me with a satisfied smile. “How was it?”

“Amazing. ,” I say, patting my stomach. “Exactly what I needed.”

“There’s cannoli in the fridge.” Her eye twinkles a little after she speaks.

I laugh, shaking my head.I laugh “I seriously couldn’t eat another bite.”

Ms. M. leans in with a playful wink. “You know, Italian women take words like that as a challenge.”

I can’t help but grin. “Well, I’m not about to get in the way of tradition, but I’m waving the white flag this time.”

Without another word, Ms. M. opens the fridge and pulls out the cannolis. She grabs two plates, places a cannoli on each, and sits down next to me, sliding one over.

I glance at it and ask, “Can I get a fork?”

Ms. M. laughs, shaking her head. “You don’t eat cannoli with a fork. You eat it like this.” She picks hers up and takes a huge bite, not caring about the powdered sugar dusting her lips.

I raise an eyebrow but follow suit, taking a big bite, and wow—it’s as delicious as it looks. We eat in comfortable silence for a minute, the kitchen filled with the sounds of chewing and the occasional contented sigh.

Eventually, I ask, “Why are you being so nice to me? I clearly defied you earlier.”

Ms. M smiles. “Let’s just say I understand more than you think. You’ve been through a lot today, more than most would handle. Doesn’t hurt to show a little kindness, right?”

I nod, appreciating the moment. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Ms. M wipes her hands on a napkin and looks at me with a knowing smile. “There’s something else,” she says. , her tone casual but serious. “You’re damn good at your job, Willow.”

I nearly choke on my cannoli, coughing as I laugh. “You really think so?”

“I do,” Ms. M. says, nodding. “Kids bump their heads—it’s practically a hobby for them. But you stayed calm under pressure, handled the situation, and did what needed to be done. That’s what matters.”

I blink, a little thrown by the compliment.

“And then,” Ms. M. continues, leaning in slightly, “there’s the little matter of what you saw downstairs.”

I freeze, my stomach doing a flip. “Yeah, about that…”

“Like it or not,” she says , her voice steady but firm, “you’re part of our world now. You know more than most people should, and you’ve proven you can handle it.”

I don’t know how to feel about that. Part of me wants to scream, “Get me the hell out of here!” But another part—the part that’s still sitting at this table, eating cannoli and feeling almost... comfortable—makes me pause.

I push my plate aside, suddenly not so hungry. “I didn’t exactly ask for this, you know.”

“No one ever does.” Ms. M leans back in her chair, her eyes soft but serious. “Some people are born into this life, like me and Mr. Conti. And some are pulled into it, like you.”

I don’t say anything, but her words hit harder than I expected. I’ve felt like that for a while now, like I’ve been getting closer and closer to something I couldn’t turn away from. Seeing what happened downstairs today? That was just a formality. Something I knew was coming, even if I didn’t want to admit it.

“I guess I could’ve walked out the door at any time,” I say quietly, more to myself than to Ms. M.

---