Page 18 of Protecting My Nanny

I almost say no. I almost tell him we can't do this. I almost do as I've told myself I would if this situation ever came about. Almost. But then I push myself forward, rejoining his lips with mine. I feel the wetness of his shirt pressing against my own, the grasp of his hands on the small of my back as I pull him closer. I fumble with the buttons of his shirt, needing to see and touch the muscles that have been tempting me this whole time. As I undo the last button and open his shirt, his lips trail down my chin and onto my neck. The warmth of his mouth against my skin sends shivers through me, and his hands slide up my thighs.This is it, I think—no turning back now. I grasp his pants, undo the button, and slide down the zipper, all the while feeling the elastic of my panties sliding over my buttocks. The warmth of Shane's bare body presses against mine, his arousal brushing against my inner thighs. He looks into my eyes once more, and as he kisses me, I feel my legs part before—

I wake up, the dream dissolving into the soothing symphony of raindrops falling on the balcony outside my window. The gentle taps echo in my bedroom as I clutch my pillow, my body still hot from the vivid dream. The look on Shane's face, the heat of his breath, are too fresh in my mind for me to move. I lie there with my eyes closed a bit longer, wanting to savor the feeling before reality takes hold.

Eventually, I turn and glance at the clock on the nightstand. I panic at first, realizing how late I am when I see the clock reads 9 a.m.Jaime's breakfast.But as I swing my feet over the bedside and hover them over the furry white slippers resting on thecarpet below, I realize this Sunday is my day off. I go with my first instinct and instantly fall back, sinking into my pillow and shutting my eyes. But a tiny, nagging voice in my head urges me up.

I should check on them, I think to myself.

Normally, when I take time off, Shane calls the old nanny to watch Jaime. But lately, he's been managing entire days by himself. He's getting better at this guardian thing, though he still needs a little help now and then.

I slide out of bed, slip on my cozy slippers, and make my way to the bedroom door. Before stepping out, I quickly glimpse myself in the mirror—something I rarely bother to do this early unless I've someplace to be. Mornings used to be only Jaime and me, but now, with Shane here, the dynamics have shifted, and as a result, so has my routine. As I step into the upstairs hall, a soft, ethereal gray light filters in through the windows, creating a serene ambiance that reminds me of my parents' house in Italy. I've always loved rainy days.

I hear Shane's voice downstairs in the dining room, though it's muffled. Curiosity gets the better of me, so I quietly go to the kitchen and peek through the doorway. There he is, helping Jaime with his homework. Jaime is at the dining table, focused on his notebook and science textbook while Shane patiently guides him.

My heart and mind are always in turmoil, and I constantly worry about my brother Giovanni. But in this moment, I find afleeting sense of peace. Seeing Jaime so happy and content while bonding with his Uncle Shane brings a warmth I haven't felt in a long time.

Shane suddenly turns and catches me watching. I offer him a smile, and he responds with a broad, welcoming grin that radiates genuine joy just from seeing someone. It's disarming, and I quickly retreat into the kitchen, closing the door behind me.

There's something different in Shane's eyes lately. His glances linger longer, and they carry a sincerity that wasn't there before. They're enchanting, almost magnetic—inviting me in, tempting me to get closer. It's getting harder to ignore. I've done my best to avoid being alone with him or staring too long, careful not to give him the wrong idea. But with the urges and dreams getting stronger and more frequent, resisting feels like going against my very nature.

I know I can't keep hiding my attraction to him forever. The urge to flirt back is becoming a need, and the desire to let my guard down grows stronger with each passing day. But my thoughts are too heavy, weighed down by the situation with Giovanni. I'm here to settle a debt, not to complicate things by getting involved with my boss.

As if the universe is giving me a sign, my phone buzzes in the pocket of my black satin pajama bottoms. I glance at the screen—an unknown number. My heart races. I quickly leave the kitchen, pressing the answer button just as I reach the stairs, afraid the call might disconnect if I let it ring too long.

"Hello," I say, my voice a mix of anticipation and fear as I hurry up the stairs, desperate for the isolation of my bedroom.

"Ciao. Is this Nicola?" a female voice responds in Italian. Relief washes over me; it's a good sign. "I was worried to call you back. It's Francesca. Are you okay to talk?" the woman asks.

"Yes," I answer, my voice trembling slightly with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. "Please, Francesca, have you heard anything about Giovanni? I really need to know."

There's a pause, and I hold my breath, fearing the worst. "No, not in some time," Francesca finally says, her tone careful. "But I have a friend who knew your parents. She says she saw him about three months ago in Siena, one of the few places the Serpenti avoid."

I exhale, relief washing over me like a wave. Three months—it's not as recent as I'd like, but it's better than the silence I've endured for nearly nine months.

"I've checked the lists of the dead and missing," Francesca continues, her voice steady, trying to reassure me. "Giovanni's name isn't on any of them."

The words should comfort me, but instead, they leave me feeling as if I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground beneath me unstable. I'm not any closer to finding him, but at least he's not on one of those lists. It's a small victory in a sea of uncertainty.

"Thank you, Francesca," I murmur, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Nicola," she says softly, "this is good news. It means he's likely in hiding, and you wouldn't want him to be seen right now, not with how things are here. The violence has spread from Naples. It's bad, Nicola. The Serpenti are trying to control everything, and they're ruthless. They're wiping out anyone who stands in their way."

A shiver runs down my spine. The danger back home is more real than ever, and Giovanni is right in the middle of it. I have to find him before it's too late.

"Francesca," I say, my voice firm despite the fear gnawing at me, "your friend—can you contact her again? I need any information she can find about Giovanni."

There's a brief silence before Francesca replies, her tone serious. "I can try, but you have to understand, Nicola, asking about people like your brother, especially now... it's dangerous. The Avvoltoi and the Serpenti are like ghosts, lurking in the shadows, ears everywhere. Even talking about them could put us at risk. And these things... they cost money."

"I understand," I respond, the urgency in my voice undeniable. "How much will it take?"

"We won't discuss that over the phone," Francesca replies, her voice lowering. "But I'll see what I can do. I'll tap some shoulders and find out what's possible. This number is good?"

"Yes," I confirm. "Call me anytime. I'll get the money. Just... please find him."

"I will try, Nicola," she promises, and there's a softness in her tone that almost makes me feel like I'm back home, safe. "But remember, be careful. Stay out of Italy. Things are too dangerous now."

"Thank you, Francesca," I say, my voice thick with emotion. "And... how are you? I'm so sorry I'm caught up in my own things; I didn't ask."

Francesca pauses momentarily, then replies, "I survive, staying off the streets at night. Doing some favors for the wrong people now and then. But you know my family—we fear no one."

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