Page 61 of Nanny's Baby for the Italian Mafia Boss

“And here.”

“I’m okay. Nothing aloe and lotion can’t fix. I’ll peel it in a few days. I’m fine, Matias. I had a great time yesterday. It was worth it.”

“Mmm, nothing is worth ruining your beautiful skin and risking skin cancer. I won’t allow that.”

“You can’t stop skin cancer, Matias. If that happens, it happens.”

“It won’t happen. I won’t allow it,” he states firmly, guiding me to the edge of the bed. “I’ll be right back.” He leans down to kiss my cheek before going into the bathroom and rummaging around in the cabinet. “There it is.” He flips on the lamp next to the bed. “I knew I had aloe.”

He kneels on the ground at my feet, and even on his knees, he exudes power and control. There’s still a part of me that fears him, but the notion is quickly being replaced by wanton need. He reaches up and tugs the belt holding my robe together. It parts, revealing the crop top shirt I’m wearing with blue cheeky panties.

I rush to close the robe so he can’t see me wearing this outfit. He snags my hand to stop me.

“You don’t ever have to hide yourself from me. You’re fucking breathtaking.” His eyes roam my body, and he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth before biting it. “And I love what you’re wearing. You can’t wear this out in public. This is for my eyes only, Sophie.”

“Are you… embarrassed or something? If I wore a cropped top out?”

“Embarrassed?” I chuckle as he squirts the aloe into his palm. He eases his hands on my scorching thighs.

The aloe is cold and takes my breath away, but then I groan from how good it feels.

“You could never embarrass me. You look too fucking sexy in a crop top, showing your curves and your tits just begging to be let free. I’d be a jealous, angry bastard all day as men tried to take your attention away from me. I’m not the sharing type, Sophie. What’s mine is mine; not even your beauty being admired by another is allowed. It’s mine. It’s all mine.”

His hands work down my legs, coating them in aloe.

“Matias—”

“—Don’t say anything. Let me take care of you. You can go back to denying whatever you want when I leave this room, even though you and I know the truth.” He squirts more aloe in his hands. “Take off your robe.”

I shake my head, anxiety twisting its ugly tendrils around my chest. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I didn’t want him to see my scars.

“Do as you are told, Sophie. There isn’t a part of you I wouldn’t love to see.” He kicks off his shoes and my eyes land on his cock. He’s hard and his erection is tenting his pants. “Eyes up here, Sweet Sophie. We won’t be doing any of that, even if the thought of exploring your body keeps me awake at night.” He crawls onto the bed until he is settled behind me.

My eyes flutter closed when the warmth of his body seeps into my back.

“I just---I want to explain.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself.” He starts rubbing my shoulders, rubbing in the aloe. “I just need to prove you’re worth the effort.”

My heart chips off a piece for him again. I’m falling in love with this man, and that’s not good. How can I get all my pieces back when this is over?

“It’s about you and this life. You’re used to different women. I’m new. I’m scratching an itch. You’ll be tired of me and then I can’t work here. That would be horrible. I like it here. I love Ella.”

“You aren’t going anywhere, Sophie. And you won’t ever have to be without Ella or me.”

I open my mouth to argue but he interrupts me.

“—Like I said. I’ll have to prove it to you. There are no other women.”

“Yet,” I whisper, knowing he’s wrong. He’ll go to his fancy fundraiser and see the models in skin-tight dresses. He’ll forget all about me.

He sighs heavily, kissing the back of my neck. “You’ll see, Sophie. Maybe not now or tomorrow, but you will.” He runs his hands down my arms, his palms touching my scars.

I try to pull my arms away from him, but he holds them tight, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the burns. “Please, let go,” I whisper, emotion clogging my throat. I hate being touched on my scars. I keep them covered for a reason.

“Tell me about them,” he says, placing his chin on the nook of my neck.

I swallow thickly, remembering the heat of the fire. “It’s nothing. My house caught fire when I was a little girl. My parents died. I was caught in the flames. I survived. They didn’t. There isn’t much else to it than that. I was lucky. I only have these scars.”

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