Page 6 of Nanny's Baby for the Italian Mafia Boss

My Volkswagen Beetle decides to screech as soon as I pull up to the iron gate blocking off the entire property. I roll down my window by the handle, and even that sounds like a banshee screaming in the night. I wince, then my entire body heats with embarrassment because there is no way the person who lives in this mansion didn’t hear everything wrong with my car.

Yes, it needs a new fan belt, new air conditioning, tires, an oil change, and brakes. The entire car shakes when I press the brakes and I don’t think that’s a good sign. Every now and then, the exhaust pops too, like a gunshot.

I just hope it doesn’t do that while I’m here.

It’s one of the main reasons I need this job so badly. I know this car isn’t pretty to look at. It has faded blue paint and rust around the fenders. It needs a lot of work, but it’s my car. I bought it with my own money. That’s important to me. I want to be able to fix it with my own money too.

In hopes that I get the job; I might have my bags packed in the trunk from being a little too hopeful. Michael wasn’t happy when he had come home to empty drawers with no note, but honestly, what is there to say? It’s time to move on. I have nowhere else to go now; if this doesn’t work out, I’m not sure what my next move is. But I had to get away from Michael. I had to take this risk.

“Milazzo Residence,” a deep voice sounds over the speaker.

I tug on my shirt sleeves to make sure my burns are covered. “Hi. My name is Sophie Matthews… I have an interview for the nanny position?” I swallow nervously, wondering if maybe I’m at the wrong house or if they made a mistake calling me.

I stare out my windshield at the most gorgeous home I’ve ever seen. The windows arch, allowing sunlight in, and the light and dark brick complement each other. It has a gothic feel to it, something old, and possibly a dangerous story to be told.

“Welcome, Ms. Matthews.” There’s a buzzing sound and the iron gate opens, creaking to add to the dark quality the estate seems to hold.

Easing on the gas, my car lurches forward, sputters, and does the one thing I didn’t want it to do.

It backfires.

“So embarrassing,” I groan, and park in one of the few parking spots off to the side.

A house with designated parking? There’s a first time for everything.

I still have both hands on the wheel when there’s a knock on my window. I scream, placing a hand to my chest. I scramble for the pepper spray I keep in the middle of the console and point it to the window.

The man on the other side gives me a ghost of a smile, lifting up his hands in surrender. I’m still trying to catch my breath when he opens the door.

“Ms. Matthews, I come in peace. Apologies for scaring you. That was not my intention.”

I drop the pepper spray and it clatters on the floorboard. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I should have known. It’s a habit.”

“It’s a good habit to have. I’m Gianni.” He offers his hand to me, and I take it so he can help me out of the car.

“You can call me Sophie,” I kindly correct him.

He gives a curt nod while giving my car a look of quick disapproval. “Sophie. Mr. Milazzo is waiting for you in his office.”

“I’m interviewingwithhim?”

Gianni’s dark brows pinch together as he stares down at me. “Of course. It is his daughter you’ll be looking after.”

“I’m just surprised. Sometimes people of his…status have someone else to do the interview process.”

He shakes his head as he shuts my door. “Mr. Milazzo would never trust another person to hire someone else to be around his child. He is too protective of his daughter. And any parent who hires someone else to interview the person who is to watch their children is a sorry excuse of a human being,” he adds with venom, before clearing his throat. “Mr. Milazzo isn’t that kind of man.”

I’m not sure why I recognize the last name. It’s tickling a memory in my mind, something familiar that I can’t put my finger on.

“That’s great. I love it when parents are involved.”

“You won’t have to worry about that with Mr. Milazzo. He’s very involved. When he is working, he needs help. He is a single father.”

“Did something happen to the mother?” I want to make sure I don’t say anything offensive or hurtful if his wife passed away or something else.

“Mr. Milazzo has never been married. He adopted his daughter last year. Her biological parents died in a car accident. She was the only survivor.”

“Oh god, that’s… that’s terrible.”

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