The Mafia's Feisty Nanny

You Can't Leave

If I wanted to think clearly, I needed to put some distance between us. This unbearable closeness was messing with my mind. I pulled myself free from his grip and took three deliberate steps back, relief washing over me when he let go. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I forced myself to meet his gaze.

Everything about this situation was insane. How did I even get tangled up in so much drama? I wondered, my thoughts racing. For a moment, I studied him, trying to figure out what he could possibly want from me. His expensive clothes, the luxurious room—all of it screamed wealth. What could someone like him want from someone like me? Unless...

“Don’t you dare think for a second that I’d sleep with you,” I blurted, the words escaping before I could stop them.

His brows shot up, surprise flashing across his face. “Excuse me? Where did that even come from?”

“I’m just saying, in case you had the thought lurking somewhere in your head,” I snapped, crossing my arms defensively.

His lips curved into a sly smirk as his piercing gaze met mine. “Do you want to sleep with me, Rose?”

Heat rushed to my face, and I quickly looked away, unable to handle the intensity in his eyes. “No!” I replied, my voice sharper than intended.

“Good,” he said coolly. “Then we won’t have a problem, because I don’t want or think about sleeping with you either.”

His nonchalant response sent an unexpected pang of disappointment through me. What is wrong with me? I scolded myself. Why do I care what he thinks? But no matter how hard I tried to dismiss the feeling, it lingered, making me hyper-aware of how disheveled I must look. Great. No wonder he doesn’t find me attractive.

Summoning my courage, I turned to face him again. “What do you want from me, then?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

A brief silence passed between us before he spoke. “I need a nanny for my son. Someone who can connect with him, keep an eye on him, and teach him new things.”

My eyes widened in shock. “You have a son?”

He nodded, his expression unreadable. My gaze instinctively dropped to his hand, where I spotted a sleek black ring on his finger. Guilt surged through me as I realized I had been ogling a married man. Of course he has a wife. Damn, she must be one lucky woman.

“You heard me,” he said calmly, pulling me back to reality.

“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that,” I muttered, shifting awkwardly. “But why don’t you hire a professional nanny? Someone trained for this kind of thing? I’m not exactly great with kids.”

“Zane,” he said, his voice softening slightly, “is not an ordinary kid. He’s... stubborn, rebellious. He causes a lot of trouble, and no nanny has been able to handle him so far. But you worked at a preschool, didn’t you? That means you have experience with children.”

I opened my mouth to protest but paused. His gray eyes bore into mine, unwavering, as though he had already decided I was the answer to his problem. "I needed money that was the only reason I worked in a preschool."

"Rose, I think you're mistaking this for a job interview," he said, his tone sharp and unwavering. "You’ll work for me whether you want to or not. I’m in a good mood today, that’s why I’m here. Don’t expect this courtesy again."

“Are you threatening me?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the imposing man standing in front of me.

“Take it however you want,” he replied coldly. “Be in the living room in ten minutes.”

He turned and walked toward the door.

“Wait! You didn’t tell me your name,” I called out desperately, my voice trailing after him.

“Alexander Conti,” he said without looking back, his voice echoing just before the door slammed shut.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, I glanced around the unfamiliar room. What have I gotten myself into? Pushing my thoughts aside, I decided to freshen up. I stepped into the bathroom and let the hot water wash over me, scrubbing away the grime and exhaustion from my body. By the time I stepped out, my skin was red and flushed from the heat.

When I returned to the bedroom, I noticed a blue dress lying neatly on the bed. It was stunning, simple yet elegant, and I couldn’t help but wonder who it belonged to. Slipping it over my body, I was surprised at how perfectly it fit, as though it had been chosen specifically for me.

On the dresser, a tray of food caught my attention. My mouth watered at the sight of it—toast, eggs, sausages, fresh fruit, and a steaming cup of coffee. It looked almost too good to be real, the kind of breakfast I hadn’t had in months. It only took me ten minutes to devour everything, leaving the plate spotless.

As I sat back, a pang of sadness hit me. Memories of Jace's harsh rules surfaced in my mind. He had always controlled what I ate, insisting on salads and vegetables, claiming he didn’t want me to “get fat.” His cruel words about how “disgusting” fat women were, echoed in my head, but I pushed the thought away. That part of my life is over.

Pushing the chair back, I walked out of the room and down the hall, eventually finding what looked like a sitting room. It was beautiful—decorated in a minimalist yet luxurious style, with three gray couches arranged around a glass coffee table. I chose one of the couches and sat down, my fingers nervously twisting the fabric of my dress as I waited for Alexander.

A few minutes later, the sound of footsteps drew my attention. Alexander entered the room, his commanding presence filling the space. But what caught me off guard was the small boy trailing behind him. I couldn’t help but notice the striking resemblance between them.

"Come sit," Alexander gestured to his son, who climbed onto the chair beside him. The only noticeable difference between them was the boy's eyes—his were green, while Alexander's were gray. "Zane, this is Miss Rose Conner, and she will be your new nanny from today onward." He turned to me, his gaze sharp. "This is my son, Zane. Say hi to Miss Rose."

"Why does she look forty?" Zane's blunt question left me speechless. His face remained serious, and I almost choked on my surprise. Forty? I was 24, and I certainly didn’t look anywhere near forty.

"Zane, be nice," Alexander's voice was firm, a clear warning to his son. Zane let out an exaggerated sigh but hopped down from his seat. He walked toward me, stretching out his hand for a handshake. "Nice to meet you, Miss Rose."

I looked at his hand, then back to his face. "Nice to meet you, Zane." I took his small, soft hand and shook it.

Zane pulled away quickly, and I wondered why. He walked back to his father and climbed back into the chair, sitting with an unusual calmness for a child. It was almost eerie how composed he seemed.

"Go to your room, Zane. Rose and I need to talk," Alexander said, his voice leaving no room for argument. Zane seemed about to speak, but he bit his tongue and quietly headed upstairs.

"You'll be staying in the room you woke up in," Alexander added as an afterthought.

"Thank you, but I need to go back to my apartment to get some of my things," I told him, my voice steady despite the uncertainty that churned inside me.

"You don’t need to," Alexander replied smoothly. "If it's clothes you're worried about, you can get new ones."

"I can’t afford to buy a whole new wardrobe," I said, louder than I meant to.

"I'll pay for it," he said, his tone final.

"I don’t want your money!" Frustration flared in my chest, and I couldn’t help but snap. Alexander’s eyes darkened with irritation, and I instantly regretted my outburst. Clearing my throat, I looked away. "There are other valuable things I need to take."

An uncomfortable silence stretched between us, thick and heavy.

"We leave in five minutes," Alexander said, turning toward the door before I could respond.