Page 15 of The Mobster's Nanny

Thank god for that.

I go down to grab my bag and bid goodbye to Romeo, who runs out of the dining room to wave a hand at me. Matteo lingers by his side as well, and I would be touched by such a sweet scene if it wasn’t for the memories of my brother resurfacing in my mind. All of a sudden, I can’t look at Matteo without a pinch of anger in my chest, so I hurry out of the house with a quick goodbye before my thoughts find a reflection in my eyes.

God, I hate this. I hate that Matteo is standing right in front of me, safe and happy, while my brother—

No. I shake my head and turn on the engine, taking off with more speed than usual. I can’t let myself dive deep into these thoughts, I shouldn’t get distracted. Right now, I have to focus on the present—and especially on the road leading back to my apartment building.

I take the fastest route, avoiding the endless traffic of Chicago’s downtown, and get home in less than twenty minutes. I drive into the basement parking lot, but instead of going up to my apartment I grab another car key from the inner pocket of my bag. My second car is waiting for me in the nearby parking spot, and I quickly climb inside and pull an old hoodie and sunglasses on. Okay, now it’s time to start the game.

I get out of the garage and take the already familiar route to Burnham Park. I don't know why Giovanni likes it so much, but he knows the specifics of the Mafia world better than me, so I don't question him. I arrive at the park a few minutes too late. Cursing under my breath, I grab my phone and barely keep myself from running out of the car. I should be as inconspicuous as possible, but the urge to hurry is too strong.

Goddamnit, where is he? I walk through the park, forcing myself to look casual and ignore the tight feeling in my stomach. Every time I show up here I can feel the weight of my plan that much clearer—but it’s the only thing that can soothe my desire for revenge.

Finally, a few minutes later, I catch sight of a lonely man with Italian features and a relaxed posture sitting on one of the benches, and it punches a breath of relief out of me. So Giovanni is still here.

God, isn’t that a weird name for someone working with the Mexicans to take down the most powerful Italian family in Chicago? I think about it sometimes, but well, it’s none of my business. As long as he keeps me in touch with the Mexicans and provides me with what I want, I don’t care who he is or what his motives are.

Without rushing or looking around too much, I straighten my shoulders and walk to the bench, taking a seat on the opposite side of Giovanni. He doesn’t even look at me, but I hear him clearing his throat and fidgeting to check our surroundings.

"You're late," he says quietly, only for me to hear it. Thankfully, I don't hear any frustration in his voice, but I know well how skilled Mafia members are at hiding their true emotions.

"Romeo kept me busy. I didn't want to show them I was in a hurry."

Giovanni hums, and I can’t read any reaction in the sound. "How was the first day?"

I clear my throat and pretend to check my face in the reflection on my phone, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "They both seem to like me. It won’t be long until I put our plan into action. Do youhave what I need?”

“Doyouhave whatIneed?” Giovanni says back with a low note in his voice, reminding me about my place, and I purse my lips. Okay, okay, god, no need to get so agitated.

I unlock my phone and, with a few taps, connect to his phone to send the report. It’s not big—today is only the first day, after all—but it’s more than he has anyway. Giovanni scrolls through his phone for a few seconds, and I hear a satisfied hum.

“Good,” he murmurs, hiding his phone back in the inner pocket, and when I glance at him I see that he’s taken something else out instead.

It must be what I was looking for, and my heart immediately tightens with a rush of nervousness and excitement. Giovanni holds out a tiny medicine bottle with colorless liquid inside. Ethylene glycol. A perfect substance for poisoning a clueless man who, by his own will, let me into his home.

“Pour it into his cup,” Giovanni instructs me in a quiet voice, keeping his eye on our surroundings while taking my hand to put the bottle in without anyone seeing what’s in my grip. “Don’t waste time. Don’t hesitate. Get it over with sooner rather than later, understand?”

As soon as I squeeze the bottle in my palm, images of Matteo flash in my mind. Meeting me at the doorstep of his house this morning, laughing with Romeo at breakfast, holding the door for me when I was carrying the bags into my bedroom. I can’t stop my heart from beating faster in response to these thoughts—but I can ignore them and focus on the only thing that truly matters.

“I won’t,” I mutter under my breath and hide the bottle in my jacket. “I’ll do anything to make him pay for what he’s done to my brother.”

Chapter 5 - Matteo

“One of my classmates used to live in Grand Haven,” Liss says, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She turns back to me and leans against the counter. “She said it was pretty, and the people there are super nice, but the prices weren’t worth it. Besides, tourists flock there every season, so, you know, see for yourself. ”

I hum, mindlessly scratching Dolce’s ear. “That’s what I would expect from a beach town. I mean, I wouldn’t want to live there. It must be different when you go there as a tourist.”

“Sure, you’re right. It’s still worth visiting if you want to stay close to Chicago.” Liss shrugs and takes a sip of her coffee before checking the clock. “Wait a second. Romeo! Are you ready?”

She pushes herself away from the counter to walk to the living room when we hear the tapping of Romeo’s steps on the stairs, and he jumps to the first floor with a loud thud. I see Liss purse her lips—she thinks it’s dangerous for him to jump like that, but I don’t mind, so Romeo keeps doing it anyway. I mean, he’s just a boy. When I was his age, I couldn’t go down the stairs without jumping over two at once.

“Yes, Miss Liss, I’m here.” Romeo barges into the kitchen with a wide grin and his backpack on his shoulders, looking around. “What do we have for breakfast?”

“No, first you leave the backpack by the door.” Liss quirks an eyebrow and points at the entrance. “And then you can come back for hash browns and eggs.”

Romeo pouts his lips in a displeased grimace. “I don’t like eggs.”

“You liked them on Tuesday.”

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