Page 25 of The Mobster's Nanny

Matteo, in turn, tells me about his life in his early twenties, how he was the only one in the family who wanted to go to college and study technology, how it never worked out because he had to be dragged into the family business, and how he hopes to give Romeo the life he truly wants. Matteo very delicately avoids the explanation of what exactly his family business is and what he’s been doing since then, but I can’t blame him. I don’t tell him the whole truth about myself either, so it makes us even.

To my pleasant surprise, Matteo doesn’t hurry to get out of the museum—like all of my past dates did—and we take our time going through the rooms and discussing the gorgeous, unusual, and often weird exhibits. And I have to admit, it feels like the best date I’ve ever had. Matteo is so caring, intelligent, and effortlessly charming that I find myself feeling warm and giddy in his presence.

I don’t even know at what point of our tour around the museum it happens, but by the time we decide to turn back to the exit, my hand is tucked firmly against Matteo’s elbow and my shoulder is pressed to his with a layer of intimacy. It dawns on me only when we leave the museum, met with a clear afternoon sky and summer wind, and I instinctively squeeze his arm tighter with a happy smile on my lips.

“Isn’t it nice?” I look up at Matteo and catch him already looking at me, a gentle look of adoration even clearer in his eyes now. Ah, why is he looking at me like that? I bite my lip from inside, trying to hide my smile, and I look away, the fresh air cooling my warm face.

“It is nice,” Matteo murmurs in the meantime, and it feels like he’s not talking about the weather. “So what’s next, Miss Liss? Your turn to choose.”

I hum and look around, thinking about it for a moment. What would be the perfect continuation of the day?

“You know what?” I look up at him with a smile. “I wouldn’t mind an early dinner.”

Matteo grins, and it looks like we share the same thought. The museum has taken a lot more energy than I expected, and besides, I kind of want to have a nice and quiet place to spend time with Matteo—all for the sake of getting closer to him, of course.

You know, when Matteo kissed me in his office, I was so caught off guard I didn’t even know what to do. My thoughts and desires got mixed, and at some point I just got scared that having sex with him would put the whole operation in danger—so I pushed him away and ran out of the office with the goddamn bottle in hand.

I just…I couldn’t bring myself to poison him after such an open and heartfelt kiss, even though I regretted taking the poison away as soon as I did it. I mean, it had been my best chance to kill Matteo right then and there. How could I be so weak? How could I ruin my own plan? I couldn’t even use the poison anymore, and now I have to go back to Giovanni and explain my own failure.

So I told myself that I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Instead of running away from Matteo and ignoring his attraction, I have to use it and get as close to him as possible. But what I decided to ignore instead were my own confusing feelings that have only been getting stronger and more complicated with every passing day.

But I can keep myself in check, right? I have everything under control.

“So I asked Louis to open the door for him, but what I didn't realize was that it'd started raining outdoors. So Dolce runs inside, all covered in dirt and grass, sees Louis, and immediately jumps on him! God, you should've heard his shriek."

Matteo chuckles with a low, husky note in his voice, and I laugh, feeling his gaze on me and reveling in the pleasant warmth that it sends through my body. Our hands are touching with just the tips of our fingers, and the sensation makes my heart beat like crazy.

Okay, maybe noteverythingis under control, but at this point I don't know if it matters. Whether my flirtatious smiles and intimate touches are fake or not, I know that I'm too deep in my own play to see the difference.

I feel drunk, and it has nothing to do with the empty glass of wine next to my plate. It's the live band playing on the other side of the patio, the dim lights illuminating the early evening, the ambiance, and the enchanting darkness of Matteo’s gaze. He wants me, I know it, and the sweet tightness at the pit of my stomach speaks for itself. It's been so long since Icravedsomeone so badly.

"You should meet him someday," Matteo adds after a moment, inconspicuously moving his fingers closer to mine. "I'm sure my brothers would love you."

"Oh, I don't know." I chuckle, casting my gaze on the table. Is it a good idea to get deeper into my enemies' circle? If I accidentally slip in their presence and say something weird, I don't want the whole Messina family to call me suspicious. Besides… "I'm just a nanny. Wouldn't it be weird?"

I look up at him, and something in Matteo’s gaze makes my throat tighten. He pauses for a moment, just looking me in the eyes, before his hand moves to cover mine with clear intention.

"You aren't just a nanny to me, Liss," he says in a low voice that makes me hold my breath.

Matteo doesn’t say anything else, only keeps looking at me as if waiting for an answer, and all my resilience, all my hatred toward him, seems to crumble. Our gazes are focused on each other, the live band is playing what sounds like an Italian serenade, and everything feels like a fairy tale.

God, can I allow myself to have this just for one night?

I lick my lips, suddenly remembering Matteo’s kiss, and turn my hand to hold him back—when a waiter ruins the spell.

"How did you like the food?" He refills our water glasses and looks between us with a professional smile. "Would you like anything else to drink?"

I give him a tight smile, pulling my hand out of Matteo’s hold. "No, thanks."

"Actually, I think we're done here." Matteo glances at me as if to confirm it, looking completely unaffected by the waiter's presence. "Bring us the bill.”

Matteo doesn't bring up the unfinished conversation and only asks silly questions that I barely pay attention to. But his hidden confession still hangs in the air between us, charging it with accidental touches and intense gazes. I'm not just a nanny to him—so who am I? I look up at him as we walk to his car, holding onto his elbow and feeling the warmth of his skin through his clothes.

Now, I want to know what he thinks of me.

I want to see his true desire.

“Where do you live?” Matteo glances at me when we take our seats in his car, and I feel something strong and confident in his posture. “I’ll take you home, it’s getting late.”

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