THE MAFIA'S NANNY

Chapter 10:WHY RULE 3

Morning after kiss, he acted like kiss never happened.

Cold Lorenzo back. Suit. Office. No more T-shirt.

"Zara, Sofia has tutor at 10, don't be late." Sir again. No eye contact.

I was confused. Fever gone, but heart still hot, lips still feeling his beard.

I wore bonnet to breakfast to hide feelings. He saw bonnet, stared at my lips for one second, then looked away fast.

Sofia noticed everything.

"Papa, why you not kiss Mama Zara good morning like you kissed her last night when she had hot head?" she asked loud.

Maria dropped plate. CLANG. Tony choked on coffee.

Lorenzo, red: "Sofia, eat your eggs."

Sofia, louder: "But you kissed her! I saw from door! Small open! Two times! Like in Moana when Maui-"

"I wanted ground to swallow me.

Lorenzo went to office, locked door, didn't come out till 3 PM.

At 3 PM, text: My office. Alone. Bring Sofia's drawings.

I went, heart drumming like African drum. Sofia with Maria.

He stood by window, back to me, holding picture frame. Woman picture. Beautiful blonde, blue eyes, Sofia's smile.

Elena.

"Close door," he said quietly.

I closed.

"My wife died 2 years ago yesterday. I never told anyone what she said morning she died."

He turned, eyes not cold, just tired, old tired.

"She knew bomb was coming. Rossi warned her to leave me. She knew. She told me that morning while doing Sofia's hair: 'Lorenzo, if I die, find Sofia a mama who loves like I can't anymore. Find Black girl.'"

I blinked. "Black girl? She said Black girl?"

He nodded, sad small smile.

"Elena grew up with Black nanny. Josephine from Haiti. Josephine raised her when her own mama worked in restaurants. Elena always said Black mothers love hardest. Love when child is not theirs, love like it's theirs. She said 'Black girls know how to make hair, make soup, make child laugh when world is dark.'"

He put picture down gently.

"So when you came, interview day, with puffs, with shea butter smell, with chin-chin in old Tupperware, making Sofia speak in one day... I thought Elena sent you. From somewhere."

My eyes filled with tears.

"Sir..."

"That's why I made Rule 3," he walked closer, slow.

"I made Rule 3 because when I saw you on CCTV first day, in snot-stained dress, with brave mouth and big hips and eyes that looked at me like I was man not monster, I thought - if I touch you, I will not stop. And Elena just died, Sofia just lost mama, I cannot bring woman into house and break Sofia's heart again if I break yours or you leave for school."

He stopped in front of me, took my hands, big hands holding small hands.

"Rule 3 was not to protect you from pregnancy, Zara. It was to protect me from falling for nanny who was meant to be mama all along. Because I knew 10 minutes after meeting you that I would."

I cried. Couldn't help.

"Lorenzo, I am 19, I am from Queens, I have 4 sisters in small apartment, I have $40k school debt, I am not wife material for mafia boss with mansion..."

"You are exactly wife material," he said, wiping tears with thumbs, rough gentle. "You slapped Rossi in my house. You took my daughter to Queens for Agege bread knowing danger. You called me Papa when you had fever 102. You made my mama pray rosary for Black babies with puff. Elena chose you, my mama chose you, Sofia chose you. I am last to choose."

Then he knelt.

Knelled! Mafia boss Lorenzo De Luca knelt in office! On one knee!

"Zara Okoro, I broke Rule 1, Rule 2, I shot man in hand in Queens in front of your aunties, I went to your tiny apartment and sat on small stool with knees to chest, I asked your mama for 10 cows, I kissed you when you had malaria - which is crazy, I don't do crazy, I do guns and stocks and silence."

"So what you saying, sir?" I whispered, crying.

"I'm saying Rule 3 is cancelled. Gone. Deleted. And Rule 4 is new."

"What is Rule 4, sir?"

He looked up at me, grey-blue eyes wet, holding my hands tight.

"Rule 4: You don't leave. Ever. You stay and be Mama Zara forever. And if you want to graduate Columbia, I pay. If you want to open hair store for curly girls like Sofia, I pay, I buy whole building. If you want 10 cows, I already ordered from Texas."

I laughed through tears, shocked. "You ordered cows?! For real?!"

"6 so far. 4 more coming. They are in farm in New Jersey waiting for your mama to inspect. I told farmer they are bride price cows, he thinks I'm crazy."

"Lorenzo!"

He stood, pulled me into tight hug, face in my puffs.

"I know you are 19. I know I am 29, broken, mafia, with blood on hands. I know this is 10 days only, too fast. But my daughter calls you Mama after 10 days. My house is warm after 2 years cold. My mama is happy. So I am asking - not as boss - as man who watched you do his daughter's hair with shea butter at 2 AM..."

"Ask what?"

"Stay. Be Sofia's mama. Be... be my-"

He stopped, scared to say word.

Door burst open before he could finish.

Sofia: "Mama Zara! My ballet shoe broke! And Papa, why you kneeling? Are you proposing like Maui proposes to Moana? With cows?!"

Lorenzo and I both laughed, foreheads touching, tears still on my cheeks.

"No proposal yet, principessa," he whispered to her, but looking at me. "First she must finish school and open hair store. Then proposal with 10 cows and palm wine, like her mama wants."

Sofia clapped. "Cows at wedding! Like in Nigeria! Can I ride cow?!"

I hugged both of them - small girl with puff like mine, big man with tattoos and soft heart - in office where I was hired as nanny 10 days ago for $5k weekly.

10 days.

From $40k debt and snot-stained dress to $5k weekly, satin bonnet, and 6 cows waiting in New Jersey.

Fastest promotion in nanny history.

Amaka will say I have entered one-chance that leads to marriage.

And for once, I hope Amaka is right.