Page 64 of Protecting My Nanny

"New crew?" I ask, settling into my seat, my eyes scanning the room.

"Something like that," Raffaele says, smirking. "But that's not your concern. Just know that all these men are loyal to me. They recognize me as the future of Avvoltoi. You could learn something from them."

I glance at the table, at the feast laid out before us. "You celebrating?" I ask, unable to hide the bitterness in my tone.

"Power and respect have their rewards," he replies smugly, cutting into a sausage. "Me and those around me? We always eat well."

Each word from his mouth turns my stomach. Raffaele has always been arrogant, a man who believes he is bigger than the world around him. But now, it's more than arrogance—it's delusion. He doesn't speak anymore; he preaches, like some twisted prophet of his own making.

"Please," he says, his voice eerily sincere. "Eat. You must be hungry."

The false kindness in his tone is chilling, considering everything he's done to me. I sit there, staring at the food, unwilling to move.

"Okay," Raffaele says, almost as if he's surrendering. He begins to help himself, grabbing sausages and baguettes.

"French omelet with Gruyère and fresh herbs, or a sausage omelet with caramelized onions, roasted red peppers, and cheddar?" Raffaele says, pointing to the two omelets on thetable. When I don't respond, he shrugs and takes the sausage omelet for himself. He pours some orange juice from a jug and starts eating.

I sit in silence, wrestling with whether to eat or not. But my body chooses for me. My hunger is overwhelming, and my hands instinctively reach for the nearest stack of bacon. I stuff a piece into my mouth, the taste hitting me like a jolt. Before I know it, my plate is full, and I'm stuffing food down like it's my last meal.

"So, you want to convince me you're still useful?" Raffaele says, his voice casual but laced with challenge. "Convince me."

"I'll do it. Whatever you need from Shane—I'll find it, bug his office, whatever you want. But you leave me and Gio out of this after it's done. You don't touch Jaime."

"And Shane?" Raffaele's voice drops to a low tone.

"I'm here, aren't I? I left Shane once; I'll do what you need and leave him again. He can take care of himself." The words come out cold, detached—nothing like how I feel.

Raffaele chuckles. "I send you back to Shane, and you'll do everything you can to take me down. No, Nicola, we're beyond that now, and we both know it. You need assurances, and so do I."

"What do you want me to do?" I stop eating, my appetite completely gone. "You've already got Gio. You've threatened everyone I know. I'm locked in your prison." My voice riseslouder now, frustration cracking through. "What else can you take from me? What else do I have to lose, to offer?"

"Your loyalty." His eyes narrow. "I want you to prove your loyalty to me, the one who's protected you. Gio's done his part; it's time for you to prove yourself. The way I see it, you owe me two debts. One for you, one for Gio. First, you prove your loyalty to me. You do that, and Gio goes free. And once I have what I need from your billionaire... we'll be clear."

I stare at him, rage simmering under the surface. In his twisted mind, he's justified every ounce of torture, every threat, every vile thing he's done. And now he says I owe him. I glance at the knife on the table before me—gleaming silver, practically calling my name. A single moment, a quick lunge across the table, and this nightmare could be over. But then, so would I. So would Gio. I force myself to relax, noting what the torture has done to me. My survival instincts are at their peak. He's not wrong to be suspicious; I can't wait to see him hurt.

"Nicola." Raffaele's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. "Are you listening?"

I nod and play along. "How do I prove my loyalty to you... as the new head of the Avvoltoi?" The words make me want to vomit, but Raffaele's smile widens, feeding off the praise. His ego is monstrous, even more grotesque than I ever realized.

He whistles sharply, and his men file out of the room without a word. "Not for their ears," he says, locking eyes with me.

I take a sip of the coffee, trying to steady myself. "What do you need?"

"Le Ombre owns an establishment in town—The Velvet Mirage. You know it?"

I freeze. My heart sinks as realization dawns. "You want me to help you kill someone?"

Raffaele grins. "You want to prove your loyalty? What better way to bind us together?"

"I'm not a killer, Raffaele. I'm not doing it." My voice is firm, but inside, I'm unraveling.

He leans back, his smirk fading. "You won't kill anyone. We just need you to help get close to him."

The air between us thickens. I know what he's doing—he's trapping me. He knows I'll be entirely bound to him once I help him with this. Spying on Shane is one thing; this is something else entirely. He's tying me into his web, ensuring I can never leave without consequence. Le Ombre, the police, Avvoltoi—someone would catch up with me eventually, and all he'd have to do is make a phone call.

"So... The Velvet Mirage. You know it?" His tone is serious.

"Yeah," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

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