Page 66 of Nanny's Baby for the Italian Mafia Boss

“I’m fine. Matias—” she places her palm against my cheek and the simple touch has me realizing how heavy I’m breathing. “Matias, I’m okay. It’s fine. I was shocked, but I’m not upset or anything. It’s okay.”

I press my forehead against hers, hating that I forgot. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. A man like you coming into town? There’s bound to be a story there, right?”

I wrap an arm around her waist and guide us to the front desk where a brunette woman with a tight bun pulled to the base of her skull greets us with a smile, but then instantly it vanishes when recognition hits her.

“Mr. Milazzo. You’re here.”

I lift one brow at her erratic behavior. “Obviously.”

“I’m so sorry. Someone was meant to call you.” She types furiously, her eyes falling from me to the screen in front of her every other second. “I’m so sorry.”

“For?” I don’t like it when people do this. Just say what you want to say instead of having me guess.

“Your penthouse suite was accidentally given to another.”

I give her a stern stare, taking a deep breath. It doesn’t matter how it happened or why. It can’t be fixed now. “Then I’ll take one of the other suites you have available.”

“They are booked as well.” Her voice breaks, redness tints her cheeks, and if I’m not mistaken, tears swim in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Milazzo. I—I don’t know how this happened. I can try to—oh god, please don’t kill me.”

I raise my brows and can’t help but laugh at her ridiculous thought. “Why would I kill you over this? It clearly isn’t your fault. You just work here and have to deal with someone else’s mistakes. That’s not what I waste my bullets on.”

“Bullets. Right,” she whispers, swallowing.

“What do you have available?” I ask, checking the time to realize we need to hurry to get ready for the gala.

“A double bed would be great if it’s available,” Sophie whispers.

I cut a hard glare to the girl behind the desk, telling her silently she better not put us in a room like that.

“I’m sorry. We only have a king-size bed available.”

“That’s perfect,” I tell her. “You have my card on file, I assume. Use that.”

“Yes, Mr. Milazzo.” She gives is two keys. “I’ve had two bottles of champagne sent to your room as an apology for the mix-up.”

“Is it—”

“—Your favorite. Yes, Mr. Milazzo.”

I give a slow tilt of my chin, impressed. “Thank you—” I glance down at her nametag. “Wendy. You’re officially off my kill list.”

Her face pales and her eyes widen.

I chuckle. “I’m kidding. It was a joke. Breathe, Wendy.” I take Sophie’s hand and lead her to the elevators, while my driver pushes the cart holding our luggage behind us.

“That was mean,” Sophie says, but I see her hiding her amusement.

“I have to get my kicks somewhere.” The elevator dings and we step inside.

My driver chuckles as well, but doesn’t say a word while we fall into an awkward silence as the elevator ascends. I can’t do what I really want to do. I can’t push her against the wall and slip my fingers under her panties to play with her clit.

Not with my driver here and not with her wanting time or space.

When the elevator comes to a stop, I sigh, not liking that I have to be in a regular room. This hotel is nice but regular rooms are for regular people.

I am not regular.

---