Page 4 of The Mobster's Nanny

“For him, or for you?” Georgiy asks with an obvious hint, and I don’t even know what to say for a moment. But he doesn’t wait for my response and only sighs with sympathy. "Whether you want it or not, you have to change something—or the next nanny will run away even faster than the last one.”

Well…he’s right. Of course, he’s right. Georgiy is older than me and has two kids of his own, so he knows what he's talking about. Am I ready to follow his advice, though?

"We’ll see," I say mindlessly and sit up in the chair, following the sound of a new message. "Do you know any good companies, by the way?"

We talk about it for a few minutes more, moving on from nanny services to talking about Georgiy's own family problems with his wife, Natalia, until she enters his office. He quickly bids me goodbye after that, and I can only hope that things between them are gonna get better soon. I got to know them quite recently, but we’ve been good friends ever since our families finally found some peace.

The story of relationships between the Russians and the Italians is complicated, to say the least. It all started a long time ago when our families first brought the criminals into Chicago and established themselves as the rulers of the Mafia world. But one city wasn't enough for two clans, so the Messina Clan and the Russian Bratva were fighting for decades, calling each other blood enemies and killing dozens if not hundreds of each other's members. When I was a teenager, I was taught to kill the Russians at first sight, and I'm pretty sure they were told the same. But as you see, things have changed.

First, a few years ago the previous don of the Messina Clan, Cassio Messina, was killed in an explosion—the same one that took my wife Sienna's life away. As it turned out later, the explosion was organized by the Escarra family, a Mafia group coming from Mexico. By killing Uncle Cassio and proudly admitting to it, they announced their presence to the Mafia world and established themselves as our rivals.

Of course, Riccardo decided to get revenge for his father, so when he became the new don, he switched attention from the Russians to the Mexicans, calling them our enemies. But soon after he took over the throne, Riccardo realized that the Mexicans were too big for us to defeat on our own. So he came up with an idea that seemed completely insane at the time.

He married Elena Pushkova, a niece of Yuriy Pushkov who was the head of the Russian Bratva at the time. And with that, Riccardo sealed a deal with Yuriy. A deal that was supposed to tie us into the strongest alliance in Chicago—but in reality it was only a pretense that allowed Yuriy to get closer to Riccardo and attempt to kill him last December.

Thankfully, his wife Olga was on our side. She warned Riccardo about Yuriy’s plans, and with some help from Louis and his wife Sasha, Olga killed Yuriy and took over the crown.

Unlike her husband, Olga stayed true to her deal with Riccardo and helped him to build a true alliance between our families. So yes, even just a year ago, Georgiy and the rest of the Bratva were our enemies. Now, we're almost best friends, and I like it better this way—especially since we have a common enemy to focus on.

Yeah, since that first grand appearance, the Mexicans haven’t left and, on the contrary, they’ve settled into their new position as the third biggest Mafia family of Chicago. Well, settled is probably the wrong word because they've been nothing but a pain in the ass for the last couple of years. They refuse to confront us openly, but they have enough people and audacity to sneak into our territories, lay ambushes, and behave as if they own the whole damn city.

But at the same time, Gerardo Escarra, the head of their family, is a sharp and sneaky man who knows how to use his position. He managed to strike a deal with our family through Paolo, Riccardo’s brother, who took his daughter Jacinta as his wife. It was supposed to fix the conflict between us—but it took the Mexicans only a year to get back to their old tactics. Later, we found out that it was a part of Riccardo’s plan all along, but it didn't make our relationships with the Mexicans any better.

Our alliance with the Russians seemed to strike the Escarra hard enough to force them to be quiet for a few months. But lately, they've been getting more and more active, and even though they haven't tried to test our patience yet, I feel like they're preparing something dirty again.

But well, that’s only my thoughts and speculations. Nothing is certain until they make their move. For now, we have no reason to start another conflict with them, so it's better to enjoy the time of peace that is so rare in our family and focus on the matters at hand.

I go back to work, and sometime later, I use a break between tasks to check on Romeo. His wrist is still red, and he still whimpers when I accidentally touch it, but the swelling has reduced to a pimple in the place of the sting, and that’s a good sign. I apply more cream, shushing him gently when Romeo whimpers again, and almost offer to take him out for dinner when Paolo sends me a message. Damn it. I guess that means takeout again.

Romeo grins with excitement when I tell him—he likes pizza and French fries more than my cooking—but my heart feels heavy nevertheless. I want him to have proper meals. I want him to not be alone while I'm working. I want him to feel safe and cared for, even if I can't always be there to show how much I love him.

I want him to have a mother, but that’s impossible for obvious reasons. The memories of Sienna's death are still too fresh in our minds to let someone take her place. But the least I can do to provide Romeo with motherly affection is find him a good nanny. And with a sudden surge of determination, I go upstairs, open a new window on my laptop, and type inprofessional nanny services.

This time, I’ll find someone willing to stay.

Chapter 2 - Liss

Okay, how do I look? I quickly glance down, fixing the invisible wrinkles. My blue skirt is long enough to be casual but not seductive, and the collar of my blouse is open only enough to show my necklace. Perfect, right?

Everything has to be perfect today.

After a moment, I raise my head, straighten my shoulders, and pull out the most charming smile in my arsenal, checking myself in the rearview mirror. Now,that’swhat makes it perfect. I run a hand through my hazelnut hair for the last time and check my glasses. I usually wear contacts, but I like how the glasses add professionalism to my look.

Finally, I take a deep breath and get out of the car with my papers in hand, taking a quick look around. Yeah, the house of Matteo Messina is…not as posh as I imagined. For a man of his position, I expected it to be big or, at the very least, expensive. But Matteo’s house looks modern and simple with big windows, straight lines, and black and white colors.

I linger for a moment, taking it in, and listen to the satisfaction growing in my chest. God, I’ve been waiting for years to get to this place—and finally, the sweet taste of revenge is so close I can feel it on my tongue.

I smile to myself, walk to the door, and ring the doorbell a couple of times, holding up the papers to my chest. A lively melody reaches me from inside, followed by a string of vigorous barking. Oh, yes. The company mentioned a few times that Matteo has a golden retriever. Well, it’s good that I had one when I was a child and my family was complete.

“Dolce, stop.” I hear Matteo’s voice even before he opens the door, and something in my chest tightens in response.

It’s actually happening, it’s—oh.

I swallow and look up.

In real life, Matteo Messina looks even more damn handsome than in the photos and from afar. He’s in his forties—forty-two, to be precise—but it seems that age only adds more charisma to his looks. He’s tall and broad like the other Messinas, with olive skin, dark and calm eyes, a prominent jawline, and curly hair almost reaching his shoulders.

The black t-shirt he’s wearing compliments the muscles of his chest, and I can’t help but glance at his bare forearms. Shit. No matter what, I have to admit that he looks good…but it changes nothing about who he really is.

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