Page 50 of Nanny's Baby for the Italian Mafia Boss

“We’re almost there. Don’t let go,” Gianni says, pushing the bedroom door open.

My knees buckle and Matias stumbles forward. Gianni manages to drag him to the red velvet bench at the bottom of the bed. Matias groans in pain, holding a hand to his shoulder, then lies down on his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“We need to get this shirt off. I only know basic first aid; you need a damn doctor.” I unbutton his shirt, my heart racing at the site of all the blood.

He snags my wrist to stop me. “No doctor. You can do this. The first aid kit is under the sink, and it has everything you need. Do you know how to sew?”

“Yes. I know how to sew.” I try not to sound offended, but come on, I’m a nanny. I have to know how, just in case stuffed animals need an emergency repair.

“It’s just like that. Fuck!” he curses when I lift him to take his shirt off.

“It isn’t just like that. This is skin. Not fabric.”

“You’ll be fine. No hospitals, Sophie. No one can know about this.”

I nod, doing my best not to show how much I’m shaking. I don’t want him to see the doubt currently taking over my body.

A crash sounds from behind me and I spin, noticing Gianni doubled over and hanging onto the dresser to keep himself standing. He’s pale. He doesn’t look good. He falls to his knees and I run to him, gently holding the back of his head to lie him on the floor.

“Oh my god, Gianni. You look terrible.”

He attempts a chuckle, wincing from the pain. “I’ve had worse. It’s not a big deal.”

“Deal with him first, Sophie.”

I whip my head to Matias, stand, snag to pillows from the bed, and try to make the men more comfortable. “But you’re shot. You need the bullet removed from your shoulder,” I explain, my stomach turning the longer I look at the wound.

“My wound isn’t life-threatening. His might be. He was stabbed in the abdomen. Also, in my office, I have antibiotics for us. You don’t need to worry, Sophie. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

I scoff. “Yeah, you would,” I grumble, then sit down next to Gianni. I rip his shirt open, not wasting time unbuttoning the damn thing. It’s ruined anyway.

“If you wanted me naked—”

“—Don’t even finish that sentence, Gianni,” Matias seethes.

Gianni gives a weak smile, sweat beading across his forehead. “I’m just kidding. I wanted to joke… keeping me conscious.”

I frown, staring at the wound on his side. Blood is slowly trickling out and onto the floor. The wound itself isn’t too large, but it looks deep. “Gianni, I don’t know if I can fix this. You need a doctor, possibly a blood transfusion.”

“We have blood here.”

I try not to get annoyed with Matias. “If you have everything a hospital has, why won’t you call one? Or hire one? This is insane. I have no idea what I’m doing, Matias.”

“I don’t have too much time, Sophie. Listen to me.” He swallows. “Go to the fireplace, turn it on, and heat something metal. Come back, and press it against my wound.”

“What! No, no way! That won’t fix it. That will be… that will be disgusting.”

“Yes, it will be, but it will help. Go.”

I lick my dry lips, already feeling queasy. “Okay. Okay. Um—” I stand, running my fingers through my hair, looking back and forth to both bleeding men. “Okay, I’m going. I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

They both laugh, then groan.

I wince from the thoughtless statement. “Sorry. You know what I mean.” I dash out of the room, stepping into the blood drops on the floor. I don’t have time to do anything about it. My heart won’t stop pounding, my palms are sweating, and all I can think about is how red the floor was under Gianni.

What if I kill him and Matias?

When I get to the kitchen, I snag a knife from the butcher block, open the cabinet full of alcohol, then douse the blade in scotch.

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