Page 72 of Protecting My Nanny

The hallway we enter feels like the backstage of a theater—narrow and industrial, with paths leading to the club's upper staffing areas, security rooms, and back entrances. The muffled thump of music leaks through the walls, growing louder as we head toward the main club near the bathrooms. Raffaele motions for us to stay close to the walls, avoiding attention as we pass the main dance floor and roped-off VIP sections. The placeis already packed, the crowd thick with bodies, and the night is just beginning.

We reach the bar, tucked into an alcove with a darkened room above it, its windows blacked out. I glance up, heart racing as I spot the elevator-marked second-floorSkybox.Shane. He's right above me.

"Come on," Raffaele mutters, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he scans the crowd. He rounds the corner, and I follow, my stomach twisting in knots.

Dino is already seated at a booth, a bottle of champagne on ice and four glasses neatly set out. The moment I see him, some of the tension in my chest releases. For now, it's just another meeting. No bullets, no blood—yet.

We sit down, and Dino pours drinks for all of us. Raffaele and Tom remain vigilant, their eyes darting through the sea of faces in the club, always looking for something—or someone. I try to focus, but my gaze keeps drifting upward. Shane is so close, yet I can't do anything to warn him.

Dino hands me a glass, raising his own in a silent toast. I take it, my fingers trembling slightly around the stem. Whatever happens next, I have to keep it together. If I can play this right, we'll all make it out of here alive.

We sit for a while, Dino talking about the glories of America and how much Raffaele will like it once he's on top. But Raffaele seems distant and uninterested, his mind clearly elsewhere.His nerves are on edge, his eyes constantly scanning the club, looking for threats. He's jittery, and that makes me nervous.

"Hey, when does your boss get here?" Raffaele asks, his voice tense.

"He's on his way," Dino responds, taking a sip of his drink. "Relax, it's a process. Blend in—that's the only way you get close to him."

A waiter comes by and leaves another bottle of champagne and a bowl of popcorn. The normalcy of it feels jarring against the tension simmering beneath the surface.

Just then, Raffaele turns to me. "I don't like this. Something feels off. Do you feel it?" he asks, his eyes narrowing.

It all feels off to me, I think, but I keep my answer neutral. "I'm just along for the ride now, Raffaele," I tell him, trying to keep my voice steady.

Raffaele leans closer, his tone shifting to something almost sincere. "Nicola, listen… what I did to you, I want you to know…"

Before he can finish, something catches my eye. A shadow moving swiftly toward us—no, a man. My heart pounds in my chest. In an instant, he's standing to the side of the sofa, his eyes locking onto mine. Raffaele doesn't see him; the man is standing directly behind him. I see the gun rise, pointed at the back of Raffaele's temple, and I think,This is it. It's the end.

The gunshot breaks the slow rhythm of the club. My ears ring, and I close my eyes, bracing for the inevitable. But when I open them, Raffaele is still in front of me. Instead, I see Tom wrestling with the waiter on the floor, the gun going off again in the chaos. I can't tell who's hit, but I know this wasn't part of the plan.

Raffaele turns to Dino, his face contorted with rage. "You set me up?"

Before Dino can respond, Raffaele pulls his gun and points it at him. Dino raises his hands, staying completely still, not even blinking. Raffaele grabs my arm, yanking me up from the booth, his gun still trained on Dino.

"We're leaving," he hisses, pulling me with him as he backs away from the booth. His eyes flicker toward Tom, who is still struggling on the floor. "Loyal to the end," Raffaele mutters before turning back to Dino, keeping his gun on him until we're out of the booth.

The club is descending into chaos now. People are running, shouting, trying to push their way to the exits. Raffaele tucks his gun into his jacket as he pulls me through the crowd, and for a moment, I think this is my chance. If I can just get him away from the Skybox—away from Shane. But I cooperate, letting him drag me along, waiting for the right moment.

As we near an exit, Raffaele suddenly stops. He's face to face with someone. Someone familiar.

"Shane," is all I hear, and my heart leaps into my throat.

Raffaele reaches for his gun, and Shane moves faster than I expect, pushing past Raffaele and heading straight for me. He grabs me, pushing me down as he struggles with Raffaele. I try to see what's happening, but the crowd is thick, and everything is a blur. I hear a scuffle, and then Shane falls backward, crashing hard onto the floor.

"Get up, Shane!" I shout, scrambling to help him. He's dazed, but I manage to pull him to his feet. My heart is racing, panic rising with every passing second.

Raffaele stands over us, a sick smile on his face. As Shane steadies himself, Raffaele slowly pulls out his pistol, his eyes never leaving mine as he points it at Shane's head.

Time seems to freeze. This is it. I brace myself for the worst, but just as Raffaele's finger begins to tighten on the trigger, someone slams into him from the side, knocking the gun from his hand and sending him crashing to the floor.

I don't even get a good look at the person who saved us. All I hear is a voice telling me, "Get him out of here," and I don't hesitate.

"Thank you," I manage to gasp, pushing Shane toward the exit as fast as I can. Shane turns back, his face dazed, but something in his expression changes.

"Robert?" Shane mumbles, still disoriented, but there's no time for questions. I push him forward, weaving through the crowd as the chaos unfolds around us.

By the time we burst outside, the cold night air hits us like a shock. We're free, but the parking lot is a mess—police cars are everywhere, officers rushing inside as others try to contain the fleeing crowd. Shane leans over, gasping for breath, but I can't stop. I grab his arm, pulling him along.

"We need to keep running," I plead, the fear still choking me. "He'll come after us. He won't stop, Shane."

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