The mafia don’s obsession

Chapter 3: Craving at first sight

Matteo’s pov

The study at the far end of the mansion was my sanctuary. It had heavy bookshelves lined with ledgers older than I was, and a single large window overlooking the private gardens and training yard.

No one disturbed me here unless the news was critical. That afternoon, the news was f*****g infuriating.

I sat behind my desk, the report clenched in my fist. Viktor Montenegro had made his move. The slimy bastard had seized control of the entire East Side overnight—warehouses, distribution routes, three of my key suppliers.

He’d undercut prices, executed two of my lieutenants who refused to flip, and was already parading around like he was now the king of the city.

“f*****g cockroach,” I growled, slamming the paper down. My blood boiled. The East Side was mine. Had been for years.

Montenegro thought he could bleed into my territory while I was focused on the northern alliances? I’d rip his spine out and send it to his mother gift-wrapped.

I shoved back from the desk and stalked to the window, needing air, needing to think. The yard below was quiet, the men finishing up training. Then movement near the side gate caught my eye.

A woman walked into the yard carrying a small bag, looking around with wide-eyed caution. She was stunning in the most unexpected way—soft where my world was sharp.

She had long, dark waves of hair which cascaded down her back, catching the sunlight like polished mahogany. Her skin was warm and smooth, flushed slightly from the walk.

And her lips, oh they were so full, her cheekbones high and expressive hazel eyes that scanned her surroundings with a mix of nervousness and quiet strength.

Her figure was graceful—curves that her simple blouse and jeans couldn’t hide, a gentle sway in her step that spoke of innocence.

She didn’t belong here. Not in this fortress of blood and deals. She looked like someone who still believed in saving people instead of breaking them.

I wanted to know who she was immediately.

My hand tightened on the windowsill. Who the hell had let her through security? A new staff member? A distraction sent by an enemy?

Or something the universe had dropped right into my lap at the exact moment I needed a reminder that not everything in this city was poisoned?

One of my underbosses appeared beside her, gesturing toward the main house. She smiled politely—tentative, warm—and followed him.

That smile hit me harder than it should have. I wanted it aimed at me. I wanted to know what those hazel eyes would look like looking up at me. What that soft body would feel like under my hands.

I pressed the intercom on my desk. “Who is the woman who just entered the yard?”

A pause. “The new nanny for Amy, boss. Elodie Cruz, a former battlefield nurse. Started today.”

Elodie Cruz. A full born Colombian woman.

I watched her disappear toward the nursery wing, that innocent beauty vanishing behind heavy doors. My fury over Montenegro and the East Side didn’t fade, but it shifted.

There was now something else I wanted in this mansion. Something pure. Something I already knew I’d claim.

Five days later, I was walking the upper hallway after a tense meeting with my capos when I heard a laughter so carefree, real and bright that I stopped.

It was coming from Amy’s room. I slowed my steps and stopped just outside the half-open door.

Inside, Elodie was on the floor with my daughter, both of them surrounded by colorful building blocks and stuffed animals.

Amy’s giggles filled the air as Elodie made a plush lion “roar” dramatically and chase a toy car across the rug

Her dark hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her face. She looked even more beautiful up close than she had from the window.

There was an innocence to her joy, a softness that felt foreign in my world of calculated violence and power plays.

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching them. Something tight in my chest eased at the sound of Amy laughing again.

For months, her mother had been living in between flights and business meetings. My little girl had been quiet and withdrawn till Elodie showed up.

And f**k if that didn’t make me want her more.

Elodie must have sensed me. She glanced toward the door, and our eyes met. Hers widened slightly—surprise, a flash of nervousness, and something else I couldn’t quite name. She quickly looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Daddy!” Amy spotted me and scrambled up, running over with the lion still clutched in her hand. I scooped her up easily, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Hey, princess.” My gaze drifted back to Elodie as she rose gracefully from the floor, brushing off her jeans. Up close, she was even more striking.

“Mr. Flynn,” she said politely, voice soft but steady. “I didn’t mean to keep her so long. We were just—”

“You’re doing well with her,” I cut in, my tone lower than I intended. I wanted to say more. I wanted to ask why a battlefield nurse would hide away as a nanny. I wanted to know what those lips would feel like under mine.

Instead, I simply nodded. “Keep it up, Miss Cruz.”

As I turned to leave with Amy in my arms, I felt her eyes on my back. That pull I’d felt at the window five days ago was stronger now.

She was beautiful, innocent, and already becoming essential. She didn’t know it yet, but Elodie Cruz wasn’t leaving this estate.

Not ever.