The Mafia's Nanny

ic's

to walk away as fast as they could manage. But Emilia? No, she had come back with demands of her own. The mome

by a sea of crayons and papers, fully engaged in whatever imaginary world my daughter had conjured up. Francesca had always been spiri

chatter away about every little thought that crossed her mind. She listened intently, nodding at all the right times, rea

that kept my organization running smoothly. But right now, the scene in front of me seemed like something out of a storybook: Emilia, the girl who'd dared to strike

needed to know that she would hold up her end. Despite her fire, there was something vulnerable about her

off in the night, with my daughter, I walk

ormal routine, only to find she and Emilia all cuddled up on Francesca's bed.

g at her silly little jokes. She'd taken to the role naturally, as if she'd done it a hundred times before, and Frances

passing Allesio in the hallway. "Any issues

e, boss. She's... good with

it myself. "Have a car ready in an hou

, bo

he early morning traffic of the city. I wasn't usually one to check up on people; it wasn't my style. But Emil

n sent over to me the previous evening-suffice it to say, it was a grim situation. As we stepped out, the bri

ccupied with their own worries. This world of waiting rooms and beeping monitors was unfamilia

le and unconscious. I couldn't imagine what it would feel like, day in and day out, to visit some

ce as she checked his vitals. I turned to her, cl

re you family?" Her voice was skeptical, but I could

peaking," I repli

ble, for now. But without the proper treatment, his co

advantage. For Emilia, time was the enemy. She'd watched it slip away, tightening the n

he hospital bed. This was why Emilia had negotiated so fiercely, why she'd dared to cha

o bargain with me. She didn't care for wealth or power. Her onl

y words but nodded nonetheless. I watched her leave before

esio to follow. "Handle the bills," I instructed him as we made our way back to the car.

't hesitate.

I knew Emilia would keep hers. But as I thought about her, standing her ground in my office with that d

alty that burned brighter than a

rancesca was likely still engaged with her morning activities,

ss-legged, her focus entirely on my daughter as they worked on some kind of art project together. Francesca's head was ben

ntify. It wasn't jealousy or longing, but a recognition of what F

Francesca the stability I had never been able to provide, and she'd do it with the

't just a pawn. She was a formidable piece on the board, one I intended to keep close. There was strength in her, an unwave

iness – an empire – to run, and while the warmth of that scene tugged

office and slam

her end, I would ensure her brother was taken care of, no questions asked. But this

the terms, well... I'd

I didn't th