Page 7 of Nanny's Baby for the Italian Mafia Boss

“Don’t let him know I told you,” he grumbles as we climb the steps. “I have said too much, but I think it’s important for you to go into the interview with some information rather than none.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you, Gianni.” I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear and step out of the way when he opens the large wooden door with a big iron handle.

“After you, Ms. Matthews.”

“Sophie,” I correct him. “Just Sophie.”

“Just Sophie.” He gives a slight bow of his head, spreading his arm to allow me inside first.

Stepping forward, my mouth drops open when I step inside. My eyes travel the walls, then the ceiling, focusing on the large chandelier hanging above me. On either side of the walkway are parallel wooden staircases swirling from the ground floor up.

It’s beautiful and unique. The style reminds me of something from another time… It’s like I stepped into a different era. “This place… It’s gorgeous.”

“He’ll be glad you think so. Follow me. I’ll show you to Mr. Milazzo’s office where he is waiting for you.”

I tug on my shirt sleeves again as I follow him through a house I feel like I have no business in. Gianni’s steps are long and calculated, proving he has walked this house a hundred times. Even from behind him, I can tell how confident he is. His shoulders are back, his spine is straight, and the expanse of his shoulders is impressive and muscular, even from this angle. For his age, he stays in great shape.

He walks with the confidence I wish I had.

I’ve never been the type to catch anyone’s eye. I don’t have the “in your face” beauty or body. I’m not what society deems beautiful. I’m plus-size. I have curves. I’m still learning how to appreciate my body. After bouncing around so many foster homes for most of my life, I heard horrible things from my foster siblings and parents. The abuse was never-ending when it came to body shaming me, but I’m working through it every day. It isn’t easy, especially with my scars.

One day, I’ll walk with as much confidence as Gianni.

He takes a hard left, knocking on a large French door that’s painted white.

“Come in.”

The depth of his voice from the other side of the door has shivers running down my spine. Even the two simple words sound commanding and powerful.

Gianni opens the door, and he gives a reassuring nod, silently saying everything will be okay. Letting out a breath, I throw my shoulders back and step forward, but of course, my foot catches the back of my heel. I squeal as I trip, soaring forward.

Arms wrap around me, catching me before I can hit the ground. I gasp, placing my hands on his chest. My back is touching his knee, protecting me from the floor, and I’m left staring up at the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Our gazes lock. Time stands still, and I lose any train of thought I had while in his arms. The palm of his hands spread across my back, making me feel small, fragile, and delicate. That’s hard to do. I don’t have the body of a model but while he’s holding me, I feel like I do. His gaze is darting between my eyes, a concerned darkness to them. I shouldn’t notice, but his top lip is slightly smaller than the bottom, and there is a scar on his chin.

I want to ask what happened, but I don’t want to seem intrusive, especially when this man is about to be my boss—hopefully.

“Are you alright, Ms. Matthews?” he asks, his tone intimidating as he peers down at me. He straightens, bringing me upright with him, and it somehow brings us closer. I feel like I can’t breathe in his proximity.

“I’m fine.” I finally report, unable to move or step away from him. He’s a magnet, forcing me to be pulled into him, and I can’t fight it. I slide my eyes from his stupid, perfectly structured face to his chest.

His wide, muscular, defined, and hard chest.

I lick my lips and then drop my arms fast when I realize I’ve been staring at him far too long. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to trip. I’m a little nervous.” I know my cheeks are on fire and probably as red as they are when I get burnt in the summertime.

If I’m not mistaken, he looks me up and down, taking his time. I hold my breath for him to be done. I don’t know if he’s checking me out or assessing me, but his cold gaze leads me to believe that I shouldn’t be so confident. Maybe he thinks I’m not in good enough shape to be running around after his daughter, but I am. I love to run.

“There’s no need to be nervous.” He licks his lips and takes a deep breath, walking over to his desk, speaking in a clipped tone. I hope I didn’t screw this up before I even made it through the door. “Please, sit down. Do you need anything? Water?”

I could go for a cold shower, but I’m not going to tell him that. “Water would be lovely, thank you.”

He opens a small fridge next to his desk and grabs the bottle, untwisting the cap for me. Our fingers brush as he hands me the water. A simple thing. There should be nothing special about that, but I swear, something passes between us. Maybe I’m going crazy. Either way, I need to stay focused. I need this job, and I can’t get distracted by my attraction to this man. Who is insanely attractive.

My adopted mom’s words echo in my mind, “Your career won’t ever leave you alone and heartbroken like a man will.”

The man standing in front of me has heartbreak written all over him.

No, thank you. I do not have time for that.

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