Page 51 of Nanny's Baby for the Italian Mafia Boss

“Fuck it.” I bring the bottle to my lips, taking a long swig of the most disgusting alcohol I’ve ever tasted, but I need to buzz. I do it again for good measure, then turn on the stove instead of the fireplace, so I don’t wake Ella.

The gas ignites. I turn the knob to high to get the fire as hot as possible, then shove the blade in the flame. “This is going to be so bad. This is going to be terrible. Oh my god, what am I doing?” I mutter to myself, the silver heating until it’s black.

I flip the stove off, then sprint down the hall again, doing my best to not step in the blood trail. I stop short when I get to the room.

Gianni isn’t moving.

I fly to his side, shaking him. “Gianni? Gianni, open your eyes. Come on.” My eyes begin to burn, but finally he groans.

“This is going to suck. Here.” I open his mouth and pour—I don’t know how much—scotch into his mouth.

Then, I pour it over the wound and press the side of the knife onto his wound. The flesh sizzles and Gianni shouts in agony.

“Fuck!”

The smell of his skin burning has me nauseous. I turn my head away, flipping the blade to the other side.

“Son of a bitch! Fuck you, Matias.”

“Fuck you, Gianni!”

“Be nice to each other. You’re probably the only reason the other is alive to begin with.” I pull the knife away, holding in a gag when I see the burnt, puckered skin.

On the bright side, it isn’t bleeding.

“How are you feeling?” I whisper to him, pushing his hair out of his face.

“Like I got stabbed and then burnt,” he smirks, exhaustion riddled in his face. “Thank you.”

“I still think you need a doctor.”

“I’ll get one. Stitch me up first.”

Right. Matias needs stitches.

Opening the cabinets in the bathroom, I grab the first-aid kit, and drop it on the bed. “You’re going to be sorry you trusted me to do this.”

“Probably,” Matias smiles, looking so different and vulnerable than he did when he fucked me ruthlessly.

I smile. “Good. I’m glad you know that.” I pour the scotch over his bullet wound, then give him the bottle.

He grits his teeth together. “Warn a guy next time.”

“Sorry,” I mumble, flipping open the first aid kit.

I rummage through the kit, snagging some antibiotic ointment and gauze. “I’m going to put this on Gianni. I’ll be right back.” I don’t know what comes over me, but I bend down and kiss his forehead, tasting the warmth and sweat of his pain. Before I question my actions, I bandage Gianni, then go to Matias again.

“He’s passed out.”

“It isn’t his first time being stabbed. It won’t be his last.”

“That isn’t reassuring. Will I be doing this more than once? Warn a girl.” I clean the wound first, then grab the needle and sutures. This is nothing like a thread. It’s much thicker.

“I think I prefer to keep you on your toes.”

I can’t help but smile while I get the needle ready. “This is going to be some really shoddy work. You can’t be mad at me.”

“Never,” he scoffs. “I’m impressed you haven’t run out the door.”

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