Page 22 of Nanny's Baby for the Italian Mafia Boss

She gives me the side-eye and clicks her tongue. “I don’t think I like how well you’re figuring me out.”

“I’m good at reading people, Sophie. It’s one of the many things this job of mine requires.”

Greg places all the stands containing the jewelry on top of the glass counter. Sophie immediately reaches for a beautiful diamond chain necklace with a large emerald as the setting piece.

“Wow,” she whispers. “I didn’t know anything could be so beautiful.”

I open my mouth to say something cliché back but decide to keep my lips sealed. “We will take it.”

“Matias, no. That’s so expensive. I can’t have you—”

“In fact, Greg. Box up the entire collection, please. For the rings, please size her first.”

“Let’s see if they fit, shall we?” Greg takes Sophie’s hand and slides on a wide gold band with emerald and diamond accents. “Looks like they will be a perfect fit anyway. This collection was made for you, my dear.” Greg tries to slide the ring off and I stop him.

“She’ll wear it out.”

The room brightens as soon as the smile graces Sophie’s face. She stares at the ring, her eyes becoming watery, and when she looks up at me, I know right then and there: I’ll do anything anyone asks me to, if it means getting to see her look at me like this again.

“Thank you… No one has ever—I mean—I haven’t—No one—” She gives up trying to find the words. “Thank you.” She goes to wrap her arms around me, and I go still, not expecting a hug.

Surprising to everyone in the store, including myself, I hold her in return, wrapping my arms around her, tight. It’s hard to believe this woman has only been in my life a day when I feel like I’ve known her so much longer. Our connection, the ease of being around her, makes me wonder if maybe in a previous life we were together.

If I believed in that sort of thing.

If.

“Is there anything else you want from here?” I ask, pulling away but keeping my arms around her waist, my body refusing to detach from hers.

“No… I have everything I want. Thank you.”

I try not to interpret her stare as anything but polite, but it’s difficult when she’s looking at me like that.

“Here you are, Mr. Milazzo.” Greg hands over six matte black bags with gold foil lettering. I take them just as Sophie tries to.

“I can carry them,” I say. “A gentleman never has a woman carry her own bags. That’s one of the main principles.”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t ever met a gentleman before,” she states quietly, looking away from me.

“Mm. That time has come to an end. You’ll see how a woman is supposed to be treated.” I glance up to tell Gianni we are leaving, but he’s already walking toward us, a sleepy little girl lying in his arms.

“I believe we need a stroller of some sort.”

“She’s too big for a stroller, Gianni.”

“I can’t protect you or Sophie with Ella in my arms, Matias,” he replies, genuinely worried about our safety.

I suddenly raise my brows in amusement, wondering how Gianni doesn’t know this trick yet. “You know what sounds good?” I say a little loudly to wake the girl on purpose. “A pretzel. All dipped in cinnamon sugar.”

Ella stretches, yawning, then rubs her eyes. “Pretzel?”

Gianni rolls his eyes and sets her on her feet. “Food. Of course.”

“How was your nap, Ella Bella?” I hold out my hand for her to take and her little palm meets mine.

“It was good. I’m hungry.”

After getting a fresh, hot pretzel to keep her busy while we step inside another store, I find myself sitting and waiting for Sophie to come out of the changing room as she tries on a few dresses for the gala. Ella is munching on her snack while Gianni is standing behind the couch, back turned to keep us protected.

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