Nanny’s Baby for the Italian Mafia Boss: Chapter 1

Having to take over for my twin brother Ari after only a few years of him being in charge is daunting. I never wanted to be in charge. When my oldest brother, Carmine, asked me years ago if it was something I was interested in, I said ‘no’ without hesitation. It isn’t because I’m not capable. I am. I am more serious than Ari, quietly planning out a way of strategy, while Ari is very charismatic, funny, and lighthearted; it was those characteristics that made him a leader difficult to dislike. Everyone wanted to make Ari happy. He was just that kind of man. Everyone wanted to be on his side. Anyone stupid enough to be on his bad side ended up dead, and that’s how he made his name.

Granted, being on the mafia’s good side only leaves the other option to be death, but it was more than that with Ari. People wanted to be his friend.

Me?

I don’t care about friendship. I only care about the job.

Everything is different now. The compound has changed since Ari and his wife left. They are in a new territory since we are expanding so much, and we decided it is best if this compound remained headquarters. Carmine has currently settled in Boston, making new frenemies with the local Irish mob. As much as I am proud of us, there is a part of me that mourns how it used to be. I’ve always lived with my family. Ari and I have always been at each other’s sides. I can’t count on him to be there when I turn my back now.

It’s a circumstance I’m going to have to get used to soon.

“Your eleven o’clock is waiting, Matias,” Gianni announces as he enters the office.

At least I have him. He’s been a constant in our lives as well, and when Ari gave him the opportunity to live with him, Gianni decided to stay with me.

He’s a father figure to me, and maybe he knew he would be needed more here than with Ari. I’m not sure. I am grateful that he decided to stay, though.

“Daddy?” Fiorella, my daughter, rushes into the office with her arms wide.

I grin, picking her up and swinging her around. She giggles, and it’s music to my ears. “Ella Bella, what chaos do you bring me this morning?” I call her by the nickname I gave her the moment I adopted her last year, when she was five years old.

I have always wanted a family, but since I wasn’t in charge of the mafia, I didn’t have the pressure of having to find a wife. I saw Carmine and Ari with their families, and I knew I wanted one of my own. I knew I didn’t need a wife to have a family, so when it came to having a child, it was simple.

Adoption.

I’ve always wanted to adopt, and when the opportunity presented itself, I grabbed it. Ella’s parents died in a terrible accident, leaving her the only survivor, and when we met, it was an instant connection. I knew I wanted to protect her with my life.

She’s the best part of me and keeps me optimistic.

“I just wanted to say hi,” she says, placing her head on my shoulder.

I wrap my arm around her and sit down, lifting my head to look at Gianni. “Tell him I’ll be with him in ten minutes. Okay?”

Gianni knows that no matter what, my daughter comes first. Everyone else can go straight to hell.

“I’ll let him know.”

When the door shuts, Ella buries her face into my neck and gets comfortable. “What’s wrong, Ella Bella? Talk to me.” I rub her back in soothing circles and she sighs dramatically, as if she has the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“I miss you. Can we go get ice cream later? Or go to the playground?”

We have a playground in our own backyard, but I know it isn’t the same. It doesn’t have other children.

“Anything you want. I have this meeting and then we can go.” My phone dings and it’s Gianni. He must be standing on the other side of the door and can hear me because the message says:

Remember, you’re interviewing the nanny this afternoon as well.

Damn it. That’s right. “And I have to interview the nanny, remember?”

She sticks out her bottom lip. “I remember. Will she play with me when you can’t?”

“Absolutely.” I clear my throat when regret bubbles up. “You know I always want to play with you, right? You know how much I love tea time.”

She gives me a big smile that shows her dimples. “I know, Daddy. I love you, anyway.”

I snort, placing her feet on the ground. “I love you too. Why don’t you go set up your room for tea time and I’ll see if we can’t get tea in before I interview the nanny? I can’t make any promises, but today we will be having tea.”

She squeals with excitement and runs out of the room. Her feet patter on the floor as she sprints down the hallway.

I chuckle, but it doesn’t stop the ache in my heart, wishing I could give Ella my undivided attention. It’s why I’m hiring a nanny. I need help here. Being a single dad is much harder than I thought it would be. I wouldn’t change it for the world, though.

I pick up my phone and text Gianni.

“Bring him in.”

I place my elbows on the table and wait for a potential customer or victim to walk through the door.

When he does, I watch as a tall lanky man with slicked back hair and a nervous smile stumbles through the door. Gianni rolls his eyes and gives me a look that says I do not need to be worried.

“Mr. Milazzo,” his voice quivers as he stretches out his hand. “It is nice to meet you. Th-thank you for taking the time to meet with me.” He stutters slightly with nerves. There’s sweat on his brow, and he reaches to wipe it off with his forearm.

I stare at his hand, knowing it will be sweaty, and decide against it. “Please, sit down, Mr. Rochester. Interesting name,” I say, looking at his file that Gianni gave me.

No criminal record. Decent credit score—not that I care about that—and he is married. Good. If he’s married it means he has something to live for. He’ll be more diligent with the money and honest if he truly loves his wife. Oh, and he has a child. Eighteen. Fantastic.

He drops his hand and sits down. His legs begin to shake, and his fingers intertwine with one another.

I narrow my eyes. “Do you plan on attacking me, Mr. Rochester?”

His eyes widen in horror at the accusation. “No, Mr. Milazzo. Never. I would never do such a thing.” He shakes his head so much, sweat flies from the ends of his hair and onto my desk.

I curl my lip in disgust. “Please, stop shaking. You’re getting your sweat everywhere.”

“Oh god, I’m sorry. I’m so nervous.” he says again, trembling more with fear.

“I’m not going to kill you or hurt you. This is a business meeting you wanted, remember? If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already. You wouldn’t have gotten through these doors,” I remind him, and somehow, that helps him calm down.

“Right. That makes sense.” He lets out a deep breath and nods, wiping the sweat from his forehead again.

I didn’t know someone could sweat so much.

“How can I help you today, Mr. Rochester?”

“As you probably already know, I run a successful food truck.”

I nod, having the food from his business myself a few times. He makes a delicious Philly cheesesteak hoagie.

“I do,” I say, folding my arms together. “Are you looking to franchise?”

“No, Mr. Milazzo. My daughter got a part-time scholarship to Harvard. I only have enough money set aside for thirty percent of what is owed. I’m looking to borrow the other twenty. I’m good for it, Mr. Milazzo. I’m not rich by any means, but my family and I live comfortably. I can pay you back in weekly increments.” He hands over a folder. “This is what I’ve made in a year. I’ve broken it down per week for you and how much I can pay you back at the end of every week, which will still allow my family and I to live without worry.”

I flip through the pages, loving how he has come prepared. I study his numbers, pleased with how much he has made and how he plans to pay me back. He’s really done his homework.

“I like you and your truck, Mr. Rochester.” I tap the folder with my finger. “And you’ve impressed me today. You have yourself a deal. You’ll begin paying me back when her semester begins. I also want proof you’ve used that money to pay for her education. Do not lie to me about where my money is going.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Milazzo. I promise. That I can do.”

“I’ll have my lawyer make our contract. You’ll be hearing from me soon. I’ll deposit the funds in your account by tomorrow.”

“Don’t you need my account information?”

I give him a bored look, lifting a brow.

He chuckles. “Right. Of course, you don’t. Thank you so much, Mr. Milazzo. I appreciate this.”

“You’re responsible. It’s a big thing going for you and if you ever want to franchise, come see me. I’ll happily invest in your business.”

He beams. “Really? I’ve never considered it.”

“You should. Your food is delicious. Think it over.”

He holds out his hand again for me to shake, and I fist-bump him instead.

“I will. Thank you. Thank you so much, Mr. Milazzo.”

“Mr. Rochester?” I call out for him before he can leave.

“Do not fuck me over,” I say in a warning. “You know what I’m capable of.”

His face loses all of its color. “I wouldn’t consider it, Mr. Milazzo. You have my word.”

“You may go,” I tell him, and he runs out the door as if vicious dogs are biting at his ankles.

I let out a breath when the door shuts behind him, and rub my eyes as they begin to burn. It is still early in the day, and I could go to sleep. Ari advised that I’d get used to the job, the stress, and the responsibility, but I have doubts.

I have always had doubts. It was one of the reasons why I turned down Carmine to begin with, but now that I’m a father, I’m not sure how I’m going to keep up. I saw Carmine and Ari do it, so why can’t I? They did have partners. My brothers got very lucky with whom they chose to have contracts with. They fell in love with those women, and it’s worked out for them.

While Ari was in charge, I adopted Ella, and there was no pressure for me to have a wife. Now, I haven’t heard the end of it from Ari and Carmine.

The pressure is on.

It doesn’t look good that I’m the mafia boss with a child, but no wife. I find it a little too traditional. In this day and age, I don’t see why I can’t be a single dad and a mafia boss, but our family rules say otherwise.

Carmine believes it shows power and a sense of family. I’ll do it because I want to keep my brothers happy.

And so that I don’t receive another text message from Ari saying I need to make a plan to get married.

It won’t be difficult for me to find a wife. I know a few women who would jump at the opportunity, but I want someone specific. I want certain qualities. I don’t want someone by my side just to feel like a trophy.

I truly want a partner, and I don’t know the first thing about making that happen, especially when I have my daughter to think about.

“Matias?” Gianni’s voice has me lifting my head, and that’s when he gives me a soft smile as if he feels bad for me.

Then, I notice my position.

He caught me with my head in my hands and my elbows on the table.

“You’re doing great, kid,” he tells me, walking into the room to drop a file on my desk. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

I snort, tapping my fingers on the folder. “I know. I appreciate it, Gianni.”

“You’re like your twin. You wear your worry on your sleeve, while your brother wears his emotions.”

“Worry is an emotion, is it not?”

He lets my words sink in and rubs his chin with his fingers. “It is, but it is the only one you let show, unlike your brother. He let everyone know what he was feeling when he was feeling it. Happy, angry, sad, you name it, he showed it. You constantly worry about doing well in this position, but it is a position you were meant for. Carmine knew it and so did Ari. Ari wanted you in his place. Let things come naturally, Matias. You’ll be just fine.”

“Thanks, Gianni. I appreciate it.” I take a deep breath and try to relax. I hadn’t realized my worry was showing so much. I’ll have to rein that in.

“The file on your desk is for the nanny. You’ll be interviewing her soon. I’ve pulled everything I could find on her. Anything you need to know will be in that file.”

“Thanks, Gianni. Hey, can you do me a favor and—”

“Check on my wonderful niece? You don’t have to ask me twice.” He closes the door behind him, and his footsteps tell me he is on his way down the hall.

“Uncle G!” I hear a scream from Ella. It’s the kind of squeal that is loud and full of happiness.

Taking a sip of water, I lean back in my chair and open the file. Paperclipped to the folder is an image that has my breath catching in my throat and my heart slamming against my chest.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, not caring about anything else in the folder besides this photo.

She is gorgeous, but not in the way I’m used to. She’s real and refreshing. I’m typically surrounded by fake women with fake lips, breasts, hair extensions, and anything to ‘enhance’ their beauty. I typically have found most of those women superficial. They were only interested in my money and status.

Leaning forward, I hold her picture with both hands, wanting to memorize every aspect of her face. She’s not wearing any makeup. Her hair is long, the color of honey, and in soft waves down her shoulders. She’s smiling, her big bright smile adding to her charm. Her eyes are the show, in my opinion. They are bright blue, so stark, I can’t help but wonder if they glow in the night.

It’s a ridiculous thought, but they are that striking.

I guess in the scheme of things, other men would consider her plain or the girl next door. Someone who is easily passed over for someone superficial, but there’s no way I could ever miss an opportunity with this beauty.

I glance at her file, catching her name, and I can’t help but smile when I see it. It matches her.

“Sophie Matthews,” I say to the photo, rubbing my thumb over her face. “You’re going to be mine.” I don’t know how I’ll manage that. She’s here for a job, not for anything else.

My plan will have to get her to want me, to fall in love with me, to have her want to be a mother to Ella.

Then, she won’t be a nanny.

She’ll be my wife, the mother to my children, and her beauty will forever be mine.