The Nanny Affair

CHAPTER 13

Emily's Pov

Sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the Rinaldi estate. I moved quietly around the kitchen, trying to focus on breakfast while my nerves hummed like live wires. Matteo was home today, the second day in weeks he hadn’t left for work. It should have been comforting, especially for Sophia, but every glance he sent my way made my pulse spike.

Sophia sat at the table, her tiny hands clutching crayons as she colored furiously, oblivious to the charged tension in the room. Her innocence grounded me. She reminded me why I had to stay composed, even when Matteo’s presence pressed against my back like a physical force.

I slid a plate of scrambled eggs toward her. “Careful, don’t spill,” I said, forcing a casual tone.

“I won’t, Emily!” she replied, eyes sparkling.

I glanced toward the doorway, catching Matteo leaning casually against it. He didn’t speak, just observed, his presence filling the kitchen like a quiet, unshakable gravity.

“Busy morning?” he asked finally, voice low and measured but carrying that undercurrent of intensity I could never ignore.

I forced a smile. “You could say that.”

His gaze stayed on me, steady, assessing, but not cold. Not professional. Something else lingered there, something sharp, dangerous, and entirely unspoken.

“I was thinking,” he said after a beat, “that Sophia might enjoy a little surprise today.”

“A surprise?” I asked.

He flicked his eyes to my hands, then back to mine. “Yes. Something fun. A trip to the amusement park. I’ll take care of it.” His tone was commanding, but the soft edge in his voice made my chest tighten.

I nodded, uncertain whether the warmth curling in me was relief or frustration.

The morning passed in a quiet, measured rhythm. I guided Sophia through coloring, reading, and storytelling while Matteo lingered nearby. Sometimes he leaned against a wall to admire her drawings, sometimes he just watched us, quietly, always close but never overbearing.

By mid-afternoon, Sophia was dressed in a baby-pink top and blue shorts, while I wore a red button-down shirt over white shorts. Matteo had changed into casual clothes grey t-shirt, black sweatpants and somehow still looked impossibly put-together.

“Are we ready?” he asked, stretching slightly as he stepped toward us.

“Yes, papa. Let’s go!” Sophia squealed, tugging at our hands.

“Let’s hit the road, then,” Matteo said, heading to the garage. We followed to the front door as the car rolled up. He opened the back seat for Sophia, while I slid into the front passenger seat.

“You didn’t let me open the door for you,” he said, a teasing note in his voice.

“Oh? I didn’t know you were such a gentleman,” I teased back.

“Just for you, la mia piccola donna,” he said softly, pressing a chaste kiss to my hand.

I felt heat rise to my cheeks. That phrase again my little woman. I needed Italian lessons just to understand every dangerous syllable he whispered.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, after my pulse slowed slightly.

“Papa, where are we going?” Sophia asked from the back.

“The amusement park, principessa,” Matteo replied, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

“The one with the big circles that go round and round?” she asked, eyes wide with excitement.

“Yes, the one with big circles going round and round,” he said, breaking into a rare, genuine smile.

“Yay! Can we go faster, papa?” she squealed, swinging her legs.

“Not really, darling. I don’t want to get in trouble for over speeding,” he replied with mock severity.

“What’s over speeding?” she asked, frowning in confusion.

Matteo laughed softly. “It means driving too fast.”

“But we’re already late!” Sophia protested dramatically.

“We are not late,” he said, calm and steady. “We are exactly on time.”

I stole a glance at him. He looked different today, less controlled, more present. A day at home, a chance to breathe, and the way he watched Sophia was something entirely new. Warm. Tender.

The drive passed easily. Sophia chattered nonstop, bouncing in her seat between questions and exclamations, while Matteo responded with patience and small jokes, making me laugh more than I had expected. I kept noticing the brush of his leg against mine when he shifted, the ease with which he navigated the road, and the way his eyes occasionally flicked to me in the rearview mirror.

By the time we reached the amusement park, colorful rides spinning against the bright sky, Sophia was practically vibrating with excitement.

“We’re here,” Matteo said, pulling into the lot.

Sophia unbuckled herself immediately, before the car had even stopped. Matteo leaned forward, catching her before she tumbled, and set her safely on the ground.

“Sophia,” he warned gently. “Seatbelt first. Always.”

She sighed dramatically, then fastened it obediently.

He turned to me, his gaze softening. “You ready?”

“Yes,” I said, though I could feel the flutter of nerves in my stomach.

“Good. Today, we forget everything else,” he said, voice low and steady, offering his arm.

Sophia grabbed our hands on either side, tugging us toward the entrance with uncontainable energy. I kept pace, stealing glances at Matteo as we walked, aware of the subtle weight of his hand occasionally brushing mine, of the way he adjusted his pace to stay close.

And in that moment, I realized with a jolt that the line I had been drawing between us, the careful professional boundary I had fought to maintain, was already blurred. Today would make it harder. Much harder.

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We finally arrived at the amusement park, much to Sophia’s absolute delight.

She was a whirlwind from the moment we stepped inside, asking question after question, tugging at both my hand and Matteo’s as she dragged us from booth to booth. Claw machines. Ring toss. Shooting galleries. Her laughter followed us everywhere, bright and unrestrained.

We kept winning prize after prize. Stuffed animals, plastic crowns, glowing toys. Matteo eventually sighed and made a quick call, arranging for a butler to come collect everything and take it back to the car. Sophia thought this was the height of luxury and bragged loudly to anyone who would listen that her papa had helpers everywhere.

It was already well into the evening when things began to feel wrong.

At first, it was just lightheadedness. I blamed the running, the noise, the spinning lights. I told myself it was nothing. When Sophia insisted on the Ferris wheel, I agreed without thinking twice.

We queued. We waited. We climbed into the seat.

The safety bar locked into place, the operator waved, and the ride began its slow ascent.

That was when the ache started.

It bloomed low in my stomach, sharp and sudden, stealing my breath. I bent forward instinctively, one hand pressing hard against my abdomen.

“Emily, are you good?” Matteo asked immediately, his hand reaching for mine.

“I… I’m fi… fine,” I managed, teeth clenched as another stab of pain cut through me.

He did not believe me.

“You do not look fine,” he said, his voice tightening. “You are pale. We need to get you to the paramedics. How do we stop this ride?”

The Ferris wheel kept climbing.

The lights below blurred into streaks of color as the pain surged again, stronger this time. I curled inward, pressing my forehead to my knees, breathing shallowly.

“Emily.” Matteo’s voice lost its calm. “Look at me.”

I tried. My vision swam.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” I whispered.

Sophia shifted beside me, confusion clouding her small face. “Emily?”

“I’m okay,” I lied automatically, even as my fingers trembled in Matteo’s grip.

He ignored the words.

He unbuckled himself and twisted in his seat, pulling me against his chest with controlled urgency. One arm came around my shoulders, firm and protective, turning my body slightly so Sophia could not fully see my face.

“Hey, Principessa” he said gently to his daughter, forcing warmth into his voice. “Look at the lights for me. Count the purple ones, sì?”

Sophia nodded, distracted easily, turning her attention back to the glowing park below.

Matteo leaned close to me, his mouth near my ear. “Stay with me,” he murmured. “Breathe slowly. In. Out.”

I tried to follow his rhythm, but the pain kept spiking, radiating through my abdomen and down my spine. My skin felt clammy. Wrong.

“This is not just dizziness,” he muttered under his breath.

He lifted his head and raised his voice, sharp now. Commanding.

“Excuse me. Operator. We need help on this car. Medical emergency.”

The wheel did not stop immediately. It slowed instead, jerking slightly as the operator responded through a crackling speaker.

“Please remain seated. We are bringing you down.”

“It hurts,” I whispered, hating how small my voice sounded.

Matteo’s jaw clenched. His thumb brushed slow, deliberate circles against my arm, grounding.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I have you. You are not alone.”

The Ferris wheel descended at a cruel pace, every second stretching endlessly. Matteo angled his body protectively, shielding me from the wind, from Sophia’s worried glances, as though he could will the pain away.

Then the world tilted.

My hearing dulled. The lights dimmed.

“Emily, no. Stay with me.”

Matteo’s POV

Her body went slack against mine.

“No,” I said sharply, tightening my grip as her head fell forward. “Emily. Open your eyes.”

She did not respond.

Fear slammed into me, cold and immediate, stripping away everything but instinct. I pulled her fully against my chest, one hand supporting her neck, the other pressing firmly against her back.

“Operator,” I barked. “She has lost consciousness. Bring us down now.”

Sophia turned then, her eyes wide. “Papa?”

I forced my voice steady. “It is okay, amore. Emily just needs help.”

The wheel jerked again, faster this time, the descent uneven. I focused on keeping Emily upright, on counting her breaths, on refusing the panic clawing up my throat.

By the time the seat reached the platform, people were already running toward us.

Paramedics. Security.

The safety bar lifted. I did not wait for instructions. I scooped Emily into my arms, her weight limp, her skin too cool against mine.

“She fainted,” I said quickly. “Severe abdominal pain. She went pale, dizzy, then unconscious.”

They nodded, professional, efficient. A stretcher appeared. I followed every movement as they laid her down, as they checked her pulse, her breathing.

Sophia clung to my leg, trembling.

“I am coming with her,” I said, already lifting my daughter into my arms.

“Of course,” one of the paramedics replied. “The ambulance is ready.”

The sirens cut through the night as we were rushed away from the lights

and laughter of the park.

Emily lay still beneath the harsh glow inside the ambulance.

And for the first time since she had entered my life, I felt something dangerously close to fear of losing her.