Page 61 of Protecting My Nanny

Fredo hesitates, but only for a moment. "I've helped as much as I can," he says quietly, and with that, he turns and continues up the stairs, leaving me alone in the suffocating silence.

Hours later, I'm still lying on the cold, hard floor when I hear the creaking of the old stairs again. I know immediately that it's Raffaele. I don't bother getting up. I stay on the floor, my back to him, pretending to sleep, but my pulse quickens.

"It's hard to find good, trustworthy people, you know?" Raffaele's voice is slurred, thick with alcohol. "You take them off the street, protect them, and they throw it in your face." He's drunk again, but his tone is eerily calm, laced with malice.

I don't respond. I stay still, my breathing steady, hoping he'll leave.

"I help you. I give you food and shelter, and all you do is betray me. You'd rather help some billionaire you just met. I tell my men, 'don't give her the good stuff; let her suffer,' and they give you pasta. How was it, by the way?" His voice is filled with bitter amusement.

"What do you want, Raffaele?" I ask, my voice flat, tired of his games.

"You know I heard that whole thing, right?" He lets out a dark chuckle, his boots scraping against the concrete floor as he moves closer. "These walls are thin. I just noticed." His laughter dies quickly. "But that means you know some things too, huh? It doesn't matter," he says, his voice dropping. "You're worthless. I keep fighting the urge to kill you because something inside me says not to give up on you. That you'll come to your senses. ButI don't think so anymore. You're as stubborn as you were when I had you before. You won't change... unless you're forced."

"What are you going to do, Raffaele?" I ask, sitting up now, meeting his gaze with defiance. "Throw me in a deeper cell? Starve me? Beat me? You've done all that already."

"It's not your pain that'll scare you," he says, his voice cold. "Maybe next time, I'll bring you a finger, and you can guess whose it is. Might be small enough that you'll be convinced it's someone you care about."

The blood drains from my face as the weight of his words sinks in. He starts walking up the stairs, leaving me paralyzed with fear. And then, in the silence, I hear her voice—my mother's.You can't always do what's right, Nicola. Sometimes, we do things we aren't comfortable with to protect the ones we love.Her words echo in my mind, just as they always do when my survival instincts are pushed to the limit.

"Raffaele," I call out, my voice trembling but firm. He stops, turning slowly, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

"I need to know exactly what it is you want me to do," I say, forcing my voice to steady. "And I need guarantees before I agree to anything."

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face as he descends the stairs again. "I just need you to do what you're good at, Nicola. Making men fall for you, making them trust you. You're going to go back to your billionaire, tell him you left to check onGiovanni, and that you love him. Get close. Tell him you want to be more involved in business. Get access to his office, his computers, his safe, and get me the information I need, or at least something useful: dirt, debts, the kind of things I can use for leverage. You do that, and no one gets hurt."

"And if I don't?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"If you don't," Raffaele says, his voice dripping with malice, "you stay here. And each week, I'll bring you a body part. You can decide whether it belongs to Jaime or Giovanni. Maybe I'll visit your lawyer friend—Annette, wasn't it?—and her son. Who knows?"

"Okay," I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them. "I'll do it."

Raffaele's eyes gleam with triumph. "I'm so proud of you, Nicola. But I need to think this over. If I feel I can trust you, I'll come back, and we'll talk. Until then... get some sleep."

He walks back up the stairs, leaving me alone again.

Chapter 27

Shane

I arrive at the precinct and spot Mike in the lobby, deep in conversation with a uniformed officer. The moment he sees me, he waves me over.

"Alright, first things first," Mike says, his tone brisk and businesslike. "We need to ensure your nephew is safe while we proceed with the investigation. Follow me, and we'll get some details from you."

"Of course," I reply, my voice tight with concern.

They lead me to a small interrogation room, the sterile atmosphere making the situation feel all the more real. Mike pulls out a pen and notepad, ready to take down information.

"Alright," he begins, looking me square in the eye. "Where is Jaime now, and who's he with?"

"He's at the Fullmont Resort with his nanny, Gladys Moore. Room 803."

Mike nods, jotting it down. "Good. Hotels like the Fullmont have solid security, especially ones that are as upscale as that. Can you call them now?"

"Yeah, but I don't want Jaime to know anything about this. He can't find out he's in any danger."

Mike gives a reassuring nod. "Don't worry. We'll make sure Gladys knows what's going on, but we'll do our best to keep Jaime in the dark. He doesn't need to know any more than he has to."

I pull out my phone, hands a little shaky. I dial Gladys and try to remember how Mike suggested I explain the situation. As the phone rings, I glance at Mike for reassurance.

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