Page 11 of Nanny's Baby for the Italian Mafia Boss

“No, I think it’s honorable. It is messy because she is here for a job. You don’t want to push that too soon.”

I nod, thankful he agrees with me. “What’s she doing now? Is she okay?”

“She’s hanging out with Ella still.”

“I’m going to pour us a glass of wine I think. Maybe we can get to know each other better.” I swallow, trying to hide my nerves.

“This isn’t your first time with a woman, Matias. Don’t be so nervous. It isn’t like you.”

“I know, but I can’t help it. She makes me unsteady.”

“That’s how you know she’ll be worth it.” He claps me on the shoulder and gives it a good squeeze, staring directly in my eyes. “I’m proud of you, Matias. You’re doing great.”

I clear my throat, not wanting him to see how much his words mean to me. I’m not sure if Gianni knows I look at him like a father figure, but I do. I’ve idolized him since I was a kid.

“Thank you, Gianni. That means more than you know.”

He gives a cut tilt of his chin. “I’m going to do one last sweep and check in with a few runners, check security, and call it a night.”

“Thanks, Gianni,” I tell him. “Keep me updated about the runners.”

“Will do.”

The runners are the ones I keep in the city, or near any well-known pick-up and drop-off locations. They find me new information, new customers, deal what drugs need to be dealt, and keep the cash flowing.

After Gianni leaves, the door remains open, and I take the stairs up to the second floor while keeping her file tucked close. When Ari left, I redesigned the entire inside of the house. I wanted my own wing, my own space, and I wanted the men who lived here to have their own area, too.

I’m upstairs to the left, they are upstairs to the right. Ella’s bedroom is next to mine, but her playroom is downstairs, which is where Sophie is right now. I need to get down there soon, before it becomes too late.

Pressing my finger against the scanner, the doors open to the large bedroom with two walk-in closets and a master bath connected. Hurrying, I toss the file on my nightstand, and undress, slipping on comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt.

I look in the mirror and run my fingers through my hair, noticing I need to shave, but there’s no time. “It isn’t going to get better than this,” I say to my reflection, before turning off the light and rushing out of the room.

I fly down the steps, holding onto the rail so I don’t fall. When my feet touch the floor, I inhale, forcing myself to relax, then head to the kitchen. Grabbing two wine glasses, I set them on the counter, then open the door to the wine cellar. I have no idea which to choose from, so I snag the nearest bottle I can find and notice it is a semi-sweet red, aged perfectly.

“Good enough.” When I enter the kitchen again, I let the bottle air out while I prepare a tray of cheeses and fruits. Then, I pour the wine.

I don’t pour a little. I can’t stand that shit. I fill each glass more than halfway, and the bottle is nearly empty by the time I’m done.

Hearing laughter from coming down the hall, I leave the treat on the counter while I go investigate. I peer into the room and when I see them, I step into the doorway, leaning against the frame, and cross my arms as I watch them.

Ella’s room is fit for a princess. The walls are painted different shades of pink and there are LED lights everywhere that twinkle. There’s a huge bean bag in the corner, settled under canopy netting. The bag itself can fit three people and it’s full of memory foam, not beads.

I got the best of the best for my little girl. She deserves it.

“And when the princess got to the bridge, a hunchback frog walking on two legs with one eye stepped in front of her.”

I can’t help but smile when I hear Sophie tell a story off the top of her head.

“Who says you can come on my land, little gal?” Sophie deepens her voice, raising her fist as the talking frog would.

“Please, Mr. Frog. I need to cross your land. I’m lost. This is the only way home.” This time, Sophie makes her voice higher to simulate the princess.

My attention falls to my daughter, who is looking at Sophie as if she has hung the moon. Emotion bubbles up my throat, but I keep it locked away. Ella doesn’t have a mother or any strong woman in her life. She deserves that and how she looks at Sophie makes me want to make sure my new nanny can’t go anywhere. I won’t have my daughter love Sophie only for her to leave.

No. That can’t happen. I have to bind her to me.

I have to make her mine.

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