The Nanny Affair

CHAPTER 15

Emily's Pov

The first thing I became aware of was the brightness a soft, white glow pressing against the inside of my eyelids, too harsh, too clean. It felt nothing like morning sunlight. This light hummed. Artificial. Cold.

The second thing was the smell.

Antiseptic. Sterile. A kind of sharp, medicinal scent that filled my lungs and drifted through the haze clouding my mind.

I frowned. Or at least, I think I did. My face felt heavy, like my muscles were slow to receive commands.

Where…?

A soft beeping registered next, steady and rhythmic, like a machine exhaling. Somewhere beside me, a chair creaked, followed by a slow, even breath someone sleeping.

I blinked, opening my eyes.

Immediately, pain stabbed through my abdomen, sharp and sudden, like a hot blade.

“Aah….” The sound tore from me before I could swallow it.

The figure beside me jolted awake. Matteo.

His head snapped up from where it had been resting on the side of my bed, dark hair slightly messy, his suit jacket wrinkled in a way I had never seen before. His eyes found mine instantly, widening with a mixture of shock, relief, and something deeper, something that made my chest tighten.

“Emily.” He leaned forward, voice rough as if he hadn’t spoken in hours. “Hey. Hey, you’re awake.”

Awake.

Right.

The hospital. The pain. The Ferris wheel. And then nothing. Blackness.

I tried to sit up. Bad idea. Pain ripped across my stomach again, sharper this time.

Matteo was on his feet immediately.

“Don’t move.” He placed a hand behind my shoulder, gently easing me back. The usual control in his touch was replaced with something trembling, fragile. “Lie down. Slowly. There you go.”

I sucked in a breath, blinking through the tears that sprang to my eyes. “It hurts.”

“I know,” he murmured, and the way he said it low, cracked made my heart twist. “You had surgery. Appendix. It was acute. They removed it.”

I let my hand drift down, feeling the bandage strapped tightly over my lower stomach.

Surgery.

Appendicitis.

I should’ve known. The pain earlier had felt like someone trying to stab their way out of my abdomen.

“How long…?” My throat was dry, the words scraping.

“You were out for almost fourteen hours,” Matteo said. “They kept you under longer because you were in a lot of pain after the operation.” He reached for the water cup on the bedside table. “Small sips.”

He held the cup to my lips, but his hands were shaking slightly.

“Matteo,” I whispered.

He froze, as if afraid he might hurt me just by breathing.

“Sit down,” I said softly. “You look exhausted.”

He did sit but not because I told him to. More like his body finally surrendered to everything he’d been carrying.

His eyes scanned my face, again and again, like he needed to confirm every few seconds that I was real, breathing, here.

“I thought…” His jaw flexed, and he looked away for a moment. “I thought something would happen before they could get to you. You passed out in my arms, you were barely breathing, and I…” He swallowed. “I’ve never been that scared.”

He reached out and touched my cheek gently, like I might vanish if he applied too much pressure.

Before I could speak, the door opened.

A doctor and two nurses stepped inside, all business.

“Well,” the doctor said with a polite smile, “it seems our patient is awake.”

The next several minutes were a blur of checks, questions, and soft murmurs. They asked about my pain levels. They examined the incision area. They gave me an IV push of pain medication that sent a warm relief spreading through my limbs.

“You’ll be sore for a while,” the doctor said. “But you’re healing well. You should be able to sit up with support by tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, meaning it.

The doctor nodded. “Mr. Rinaldi, could I speak with you outside?”

Matteo looked like he wanted to refuse outright. His eyes flicked to me in silent question.

“It’s okay,” I said.

He hesitated, actually, then finally stood. Before leaving, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle forehead kiss against me. Warm. Grounding. A silent promise.

“I’m right outside.”

He pulled back slowly and followed the doctor out.

I exhaled shakily.

The moment the door clicked shut, the room felt enormous. And quiet. Too quiet.

My phone buzzed faintly on the bedside table, Andrew.

Before calling him, I closed my eyes, gathering strength, then hit dial.

“Emily?” His voice burst through instantly. “Finally! Oh thank God. Matteo texted but I needed to hear from you.”

I smiled faintly. “I’m okay. Sore. Tired. But okay.”

He sighed dramatically. “Okay as in alive. Good. I’ll come visit later, but for now, rest. And don’t you dare try to get up.”

“I literally can’t.”

“Good.”

We hung up, and I sank back into the pillow.

Less than a minute later, Matteo returned. But something in him had changed. His shoulders were tense, his jaw sharp with worry.

“You alright?” I asked.

He nodded too quickly. “Yes. The doctor just explained some things.”

He wasn’t telling me everything. I knew that tone.

But before I could ask, he cleared his throat.

“I have to go home for a bit. Get your clothes. Your toothbrush. Things you’ll need.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I do.” His voice was firm, but not unkind. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”.

I blinked at him. “Matteo. I can handle being alone for a few hours.”

His gaze softened but remained unyielding. “I can’t.”

Not “you can’t.”

I can’t.

I didn’t know why, but those words made heat bloom in my chest.

The door opened, and two guards stationed outside turned slightly, alert. Two more stood down the hall unmistakably Rinaldi security. That wasn’t normal.

My brows pulled together. “Matteo… why are there so many guards?”

His jaw flexed. “Just a precaution.”

Liar.

He wasn’t good at lying to me.

Something must have happened.

But he wasn’t going to talk now, not when I was barely conscious.

“I’ll be back soon,” he murmured. “Try to rest.”

He brushed his fingers gently over the back of my hand before turning to leave.

Time moved strangely after he left.

Minutes felt heavy, slow. Nurses checked in periodically. The pain meds made my eyelids droop.

I must’ve drifted off, because the next thing I heard was a soft, hesitant knock.

The door opened.

Sophia stood there, still in her school uniform, her backpack slightly slipping off her shoulder. Her eyes were red, like she’d been crying.

Matteo walked behind her, carrying a small overnight bag. He set it down quietly.

“Sophia wanted to see you first,” he said softly.

The little girl walked toward my bed, her steps small, almost scared.

“Emmy?” Her voice cracked. “Are you… are you okay?”

I smiled gently. “Better now that you’re here.”

She climbed carefully onto the chair beside my bed, gripping the sheets.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered suddenly, tears spilling again. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sick.”

My heart clenched. “Oh, sweetheart. You didn’t make me sick.”

“But it happened on the Ferris wheel,” she said, voice trembling. “Because we went there. Because you were with me.”

I reached for her hand carefully. “Sophia, listen to me. Appendicitis just happens. It wasn’t your fault. Not even a little.”

She sniffed. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

She climbed closer and rested her cheek gently on my arm. Matteo watched from the corner, his expression a mix of love and a deep, brooding worry he was trying and failing to hide.

That’s when I finally noticed it.

His tension.

His silence.

The way he looked at every person who walked past the door.

The way his bodyguards stiffened whenever footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Something had happened.

Something they weren’t telling me.

And for the first time, fear crawled up my spine not because of my surgery, but because something inside Matteo’s eyes whispered:

You are not safe.

Not anymore.

Sophia held onto my arm. Matteo watched the door.

And I lay there, suddenly aware that waking up was only the beginning.

“Matteo…..what aren't you telling me?”

I watched him, trying to read his face, but Matteo was a fortress. Every line of worry, every shadow under his eyes, was carefully tempered with control. Yet the tension radiating off him was impossible to ignore.

“I…” I started, voice shaky, “I just want to understand. Why are there… so many guards? Why are you acting like this?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he crouched slightly to Sophia’s level, brushing her hair back from her forehead. “Principessa,” he murmured softly, voice smooth, practiced, “everything’s fine. You just worry about Emily being rested, alright?”

Sophia nodded, still clinging to my arm. I caught the faintest twitch in Matteo’s jaw, a subtle tightening that said more than his words. I didn’t need to ask to know something or someone was on his mind.

“Matteo,” I said again, softer this time, “I can handle myself. I don’t need..”

“No,” he interrupted gently, but firmly. “Not this time. Not today.” His eyes softened when they met mine, but the tension in his shoulders remained. “You’ve been through enough. Let me handle this. Please.”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to insist I could manage. But I was still weak, sore, and just waking up from surgery. His gaze pinned me, and in that moment, I realized how absurd it was to try. I gave a quiet, defeated nod.

He smiled faintly, and it didn’t reach all the way to the worry behind his eyes, but it was a small relief. He leaned forward then, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead a promise, a shield, a tether to the real world.

“Rest now,” he said, voice low. “Sophia will keep me company while you do.”

Sophia’s little hand squeezed mine. “I’ll keep watch too,” she whispered, trying to be brave.

I smiled, heart swelling. “I know you will, sweetie. You’re my brave little girl.”

He nodded, standing to leave. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t move, don’t try anything clever. I’ll handle the rest.”

And with that, he left, the heavy security presence at the door somehow more pronounced now. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach, a mixture of gratitude, trust, and unease.

Sophia settled beside me on the chair, swinging her legs and fiddling with the hem of her uniform. “Emily,” she said after a pause, “are you going to be okay?”

I smiled, brushing a stray hair from her face. “Yes, principessa. I just need a little rest. That’s all.”

She frowned thoughtfully. “Does it hurt?”

I shook my head, letting a small laugh escape. “A little. But nothing scary.”

She nodded, satisfied, then leaned her head against my arm again. “I missed you,” she murmured.

“I missed you too,” I whispered, heart tugging.

We stayed like that for a while, Sophia softly humming a tune she’d learned in school. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting her gentle presence soothe me, let the ache in my stomach dull under the warm weight of care surrounding me, and I drifted into slumber.