Page 36 of The Mobster's Nanny

This girl—god, I can’t believe I’m such a fucking idiot!

A wave of heated rage rises in my chest, melting the ice of shock and disbelief and making me grip the dagger even tighter. My thumb presses intoEscarraengraved into the sheath, and I look at Liss and clench my jaw to stop myself from doing something awful. Of course she’s a traitor.Of course!

On the very first day, Liss overheard me talking to Hector and didn’t say anything as if she didn’t mind hearing it. As if shewantedto hear it. And that time when I caught her in my office? I pinch the bridge of my nose with intensity, keeping my eyes shut so tightly my face turns into a grimace. Her flirting, her obedience, her desire to be closer to me—but for what?

God, it hurts.

Now that I think about it, I’m not even sure where she came from. I barely paid attention to her resume, too smitten at first fucking glance. What a dumbass!

I growl under my breath, fisting the sheets and barely holding myself from punching the pillows and releasing my fury. My chest is on fire, and my heart is beating so fast despite the invisible claws tearing it apart. It hasn’t hurt like this in a very long time, and I…I can’t believe I thought my heart was safe with her.

I look at Liss again when I feel that my anger is under control. She looks so blissful, innocent, and completely relaxed, and just an hour ago the sight would have made me happy. Now, it only fills me with resentment and hurt.

I trusted her. I let her closer than anyone. My house, my son, my heart—I opened every door to her, I gave her everything. Why would she do this to me?

After the storm of emotions passes, I feel my broken heart weeping in my chest. The dagger lies in my lap. It didn’t reach its target—but it found its way deeper than my flesh and bones.

Chapter 12 - Liss

Even before I open my eyes, I feel the pleasant soreness in my muscles from last night, and it makes me smile as I remember yesterday’s events.

Honestly, I can tell that it was the best date I’d ever been on. I didn’t expect Matteo to show up on my day off—I didn’t think he would miss me at all after spending every day together—but god, am I glad that he did. The afternoon cuddles, the restaurant, the walk under the stars and street lamps, and finally, the mind-blowing sex in my bed. I can still feel the lingering pleasure of my orgasms, and damn it, I’m kind of ready for more.

But where’s Matteo? I can’t feel his warmth next to me, and it makes me frown and roll onto my back, stretching my arms above my head with a yawn. Is he in the kitchen? The room is brighter than usual, so I guess—

But before I can finish my thought, I hear a rustle of curtains, a couple of quick steps, and the next moment something grabs me by the throat and pushes me up against the wall. What the hell?

I burst my eyes open, gasping for breath and trying to pry the hand away from my neck. I don’t even have enough presence of mind to get scared before adrenaline runs through my veins. My whole body jerks in an attempt to fight whatever or whoever it is, and I kick my legs under the blanket and try to push away from the wall.

“What—”

My gaze finally lands on Matteo just a moment before he grabs my shoulder with his other hand and pushes me back harder. The back of my head hits the wall, and I flinch and breathe out, going still. The air is barely reaching my lungs, and I have to gasp for every ounce of it. My whole body is hot from adrenaline, my heart is pounding, and my mind is frantically trying to grasp the situation.

What the hell is going on?

“Good morning,” Matteo says after I lose my will to fight and slump against the wall to focus on breathing.

His voice is low and void of any emotions, and when I look up at him I see his gaze—but I don’t recognize it. The look in his brown eyes is as cold as ice, and it sends a shiver through my body. I’ve never seen him so hostile and intimidating, and the only explanation as to why he would be acting like this creeps into my mind with another shiver. Shit.Shit. Where’s the knife?

I tense up and reach for his wrist, trying to take a better look around, but of course Matteo doesn’t let me. As soon as I make an attempt to turn away, he grabs my face so hard I can feel his fingers digging into my teeth through my cheeks and forces me to turn back to him. My lips are all smashed together from the force of his grip, and every breath I take is accompanied by a swish.

“Are you looking for this?” Matteo asks, looking into my eyes with an empty expression and letting go of my throat to grab something from his side of the bed.

Shit. My eyes widen as soon as I see the dagger in his hand, and I don’t know how much he knows—but I know for sure that I have to get the fuck out of here.

I immediately start kicking my legs, trying to push him away from me, and frantically shake my head to get his hand off me. My violent thrashing catches him off guard, and as soon as I free myself from his grip I lunge over the bed, crawling on my knees to get to the other side with my eyes set on the door.

I have to get out of the room, lock Matteo in my apartment, and then? Run, run away from him, from this city, and from the Messinas who, for sure, will never forgive my betrayal.

There are only a few feet between me and my only chance to get out of this unharmed—but the moment I push myself up to get off the bed, Matteo grabs my ankle and yanks me back. Ouch! The sharp movement strains the muscles of my knee, and I stumble and almost fall off the bed, hitting my chin against the mattress.

I instinctively try to grab onto the mattress, the sheets, anything that can keep me from being dragged back to Matteo, but of course nothing can stop him. He’s bigger, stronger, and more experienced than me, and while it used to turn me on in bed, I wish I could fight him now.

Matteo grabs me by the hips and drags me back without much effort, pulling out the sheets clutched in my fists. I try to kick my legs again, grunting under my breath, but it does nothing to him. I really stand no goddamn chance against him. Matteo flips me over onto my back in one smooth movement, and before I can do anything he throws his leg over my thighs, catches my wrists, and pins me against the bed.

“Are you in a hurry?” he asks, unbothered, while I keep trying to kick him off me—to no avail, of course—until I lose my strength with a huff and look up at him.

His expression is neutral, but deep in his eyes I see just how pissed he is. Shit. He knows. He must’ve figured out my relationship with the Escarras somehow. And what should I do now? Admit to everything or keep acting like I don’t know what he’s talking about?

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