Page 13 of Of Lies and Shadows

“Yes. He negotiated a full dragon-slaying session in exchange for finishing his fruity oatmeal.”

I stare at her. “You’re not supposed to give in,” I say flatly. “You weren’t hired as an entertainer but as aneducator.I thought that was clear.”

Alessio slumps onto the floor with a dramatic sigh. Lucia’s shoulders round inward, like she’s retreating into herself.

And just like that, the laughter is gone.

I hate being the killjoy.

Hate even more that I’ve become the killjoy.

And instead of dealing with that—my own guilt, my own failure—Iturn it on her.

I purse my lips. “A word?”

She sighs. It’s quiet, tired. Then she stands, brushing off her jeans.

“Yes, Mr. Forzi.”

I give the kids a tight smile, then turn, heading toward my office with her close behind, still barefoot.

“Take a seat,” I say as I close the door behind us.

No pleasantries. I’m not in the mood.

Are you ever?The voice in my head is unwelcome but not wrong.

She sits, linking her hands neatly in her lap. Too composed. Too calm. And still barefoot, like she belongs here. That shouldn’t bother me. But it does. “Sir, I’m not sure wh?—”

“My children lost their mother,” I cut in.

“I know,” she says quietly.

“And I’m not keen on them forming attachments to someone who won’t be a permanent fixture in their lives.”

Her brows lift just a fraction. “I’m their nanny. I thought that was part of the job requirement.”

“Playing pirates?” I snap.

“Treasure-seeking dragon hunters,” she corrects without missing a beat.

She dares correct ME?

“And I thought keeping them happy and fulfilled was part of the job description.”

“You’re supposed to keep them in line.” There’s a knock at the door. I ignore it. “I don’t think that humoring them in their?—”

The knocking turns more insistent. I raise a finger at her to sayI’m not done with you.

“Come in.”

Of course it’s Aunt Teresa, wearing the kind of scowl that’s been perfected over six decades.

She’s the only person in the world I can’t really tell off.

“Teresa.” I sigh. “Are you coming to say goodbye?”

“In a minute,” she says, walking in like she owns the place. “But the kids just came to tell me Nanny Alice was in trouble. That can’t be right, can it? Not when the woman managed to get your son to eat fruit for the first time in over a year without a single tantrum.”

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