Page 32 of The Mobster's Nanny

“Miss Liss, are you going to leave after the year is over?”

“What?” I frown and lay a hand on his shoulder, shifting on the couch to face him properly. “No, of course not. Why would you think I could leave you like that?”

But Romeo only frowns even harder, looking both grumpy and upset at the same time.

“Because nannies always leave for the summer. I don’t have to go to school anymore, and Papa stays at home all the time, so I just stay with him…but I don’t want to stay with him!” He finally looks me in the eyes, and I see deep emotions brimming in his eyes. “He’s always working in his room, and I can’t even play there. It will be so lonely without you, Miss Liss, please don’t leave.”

Oh. My heart tightens with sympathy, aching from the inside, and before I can say anything I pull Romeo into my arms, holding him close. I shut my eyes tight, and for a moment it feels as if I have tears on my own lashes, but I quickly blink them away and press a kiss to his hair.

“Of course I won’t leave. Get this silly idea out of your head, alright?” I pull back, holding onto Romeo’s shoulders, to look into his teary eyes and smile with as much encouragement as I can muster. “I’m staying with you for as long as you need me.”

He sniffles, still looking unsure. “But Papa—”

“Oh, he won’t do anything.” I chuckle, running my hand through Romeo’s messy hair. “I think he doesn’t want me to leave either.”

“I think so too,” Romeo mutters after a moment, and I finally see a hint of a smile on his lips. He’s still doing his best to look serious, but the sparkle in his eyes makes it obvious that he believes me. “So you aren’t gonna leave?’

“No.” I smile wider, gently stroking his cheek. “I promise.”

“Yes! Thank you, Miss Liss!”

Romeo finally raises his voice into happy yelling and lunges forward, wrapping his arms around me and hugging me so tightly that he lets out a grunt. The feelings of fondness, affection, and pure love fill me from inside, and I pull him close to me, slightly swaying in my embrace. My sweet boy, how could he even think that I would leave him? I’d never do—

And at that moment, I freeze as the realization dawns on me, and the weight of it pulls my heart down. I just promised that I won’t leave Romeo—but isn’t that exactly what I’m going to do? Isn’t it a part of my grand goddamn plan?

He fidgets in my arms, pushing closer, and of course Dolce wants to join us, pushing his nose into my side a moment after, and it only makes me feel like shit. I close my eyes, leaning on the back of the couch with Romeo in my arms. God, what am I doing? How can I lie to him so easily? How can I dream about breaking his life apart?

If I kill Matteo and run away…it’s gonna kill Romeo as well. He won’t have anyone else in the world, and isn’t that exactly what Matteo did to me? Won’t I turn into the same monster? Shit.Shit. How can my revenge be more important than his life? I don’t know, god, I don’t know. I pull Romeo closer to me, feeling protective—but am I the one he should be protected from?

My heart is aching, my mind is a complete mess, and I just—

I don’t know if I can do it anymore.

The thought comes back to me again and again, especially when I spend time with Matteo and Romeo, laughing, chattering, and pretending like I haven’t been lying to them since the first day.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I find my determination again, and I tell myself that nothing is more important than my brother’s memory. I’m the only one who cares about his death, so it’s my duty to make sure that it won’t be left behind and forgotten by the very person that killed him.

But during the day, when Romeo hugs me all of a sudden, or when Matteo presses quick kisses behind his back, I can feel my resolution slipping out of me. How can I betray them? How can I turn their life into hell? I’m already attached to both of them, and it tears my heart into pieces. What should I do? What isright?

I spend the rest of the week unable to find even a second of peace, and Tuesday comes in the blink of an eye. With all these thoughts boiling in my mind, I completely forget about the information I sent to Giovanni—until I hear the echo of it.

In the middle of the night, when I lie in my bed wide awake, looking for the right choice, I suddenly hear Matteo’s muffled voice coming from his office. I rarely hear him raising his voice, and now it sounds like he’s yelling out of pure adrenaline, some kind of panic in the tension of his voice—and that’s when I remember. Shit. I guess the information turned out to bevaluable.

When Matteo crawls into my room sometime later and wraps his arms around me with a deep, exhausted sigh, I don’t know if I should laugh or cry.

In the morning, I receive a message from Giovanni.8 pm, Vet’s Park.Shit. That leaves me less than a day to make up my mind—but in the end, I see that there’s no turning back at this point.

I show up at the park seven minutes to eight, with a baseball cap and a sports bag in my hands. Giovanni never sends me his precise location, so all I’m left with is walking over the dark trails and passing late-night joggers one after the other. Goddamnit. Where is he? But finally, a few minutes later, I catch a familiar figure at the edge of an empty playground and, after a quick glance around, walk over.

“Long time no see,” Giovanni greets me with a low chuckle, and I glance at him. He’s in a surprisingly good mood—but I guess after yesterday’s bust, he does have something to celebrate. Why don’t I feel happy about it, though?

“Did you get them yesterday?” I can’t help my curiosity, but when Giovanni doesn’t react for a moment, I almost expect him to scold me for being too nosy.

“Yes,” he says finally, and digs into his inner pocket. “Which is why you have to use the moment.”

Giovanni holds something in his hand when he pulls it out, and while he’s looking around I hold up my bag to cover my movements and reach out to take the object. As soon as my fingers find it, though, I go still for an instant before forcing myself to take it.

The weapon is cold and heavy in my hand, engraved with intricate patterns I can trace with my fingers, and when I feel the shape of it, it leaves no doubt as to what it is. I’m holding a sheath in my hand, and inside of it is a knife that I’m supposed to dig into Matteo’s flesh. Just thinking about it makes me sick for a moment, but I shake it off and straighten up. I have to do it.I have to.

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