Nanny for the Don: Chapter 22

I wince, the image of Willow’s horrified face seared into my mind like a brand. The way she looked at me—like I was a monster—burns deep, and I know I’ll never forget it.

She’s long gone by now, and there’s a knot in my gut telling me she’s not coming back. Can’t say I’d blame her if she didn’t.

I take a breath, trying to push the emotions down. I turn to Jack, who’s whimpering in the chair, and say, “You just got lucky. For now.” My voice is cold, detached, but inside I’m anything but. I step out of the room, shutting the door behind me, blocking out Jack’s muffled cries.

In the hallway, Sal and Ms. M rush toward me, both of them looking like they’d seen a ghost. Sal’s the first to speak. “I was on the phone, boss. I didn’t see her.”

Ms. M. is more frantic, her usual calm shattered. “I tried to stop her, Mr. Conti. I swear, I tried!”

I hold up a hand to silence them, my mind racing. The damage is done, and I don’t need excuses right now. Willow’s seen the truth—the part of me I’ve kept hidden from her, from the girls. And now? Now I have to figure out what the hell I’m going to do about it.

“Where is she?” I ask, my voice tight, trying to keep it together. Because if I don’t find her, if she’s out there running with that look of horror in her eyes, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to make this right.

I’m halfway to the stairs when I realize I’m still holding the damn bone saw. I hand it to Sal, who takes it without a word.

“Stay with Jack,” I tell him, my voice clipped and controlled.

Sal nods, all business. “I’m on it.”

I turn to Ms. M, walking beside her as we head upstairs. There’s a tightness in my chest, but I push it down, focusing on the here and now. “Why was she downstairs? What’s so important that she broke the rule and came down while I was working?”

Her face is pale, her voice trembling slightly as she answers. “Lucia fell at the park and hit her head.”

Everything else fades in an instant. My heart lurches. “Where is she?” I demand, every other concern shoved to the back of my mind.

“Upstairs,” Ms. M says quickly. “Willow wanted to tell you before we took her to the clinic to be looked at.”

She’s still talking, explaining, but all I can think about is Lucia. My little girl, hurt and needing me. Nothing else matters right now.

“I told them to wait in the den,” Ms. M says, her voice steadying when she realizes my focus has shifted.

I don’t wait for more. I rush forward, all thoughts of Willow, of the mess downstairs, gone. All that matters is getting to my little girls, making sure Lucia is okay.

I stop short, realizing there’s still blood on my hands. The sight of it makes my stomach turn, a reminder of how close my worlds are to colliding. I head to the sink, scrubbing the blood away, watching it swirl down the drain. It’s not just the blood of the man downstairs—it’s the blood of the life I’ve tried to keep separate from my girls.

This was bound to happen. Deep down, I always knew it was inevitable. But now that it’s here, all I can do is hope my girls never learn the truth about who I am—what I do. They deserve better than that.

I take a deep breath, composing myself before heading into the den. As soon as I step inside, a wave of relief washes over me. Willow is there. I should’ve known she wouldn’t abandon the girls, no matter what she saw.

She’s kneeling by Lucia, gently tending to the wound on her forehead. My heart clenches at the sight of my daughter, but she looks better than I feared. The fact that she’s up and moving is a good sign.

As soon as the girls spot me, they light up, rushing over and throwing their arms around me. I drop to a knee and hug them tight, feeling Lucia’s little arms around my neck, and for a moment, everything else fades away. At least she’s okay, and that’s all that matters right now.

I gently tell Lucia to step back so I can get a good look at the wound. It’s a nasty gash, but I keep my voice calm as I say.

“It’s not as bad as it looks. Head wounds bleed a lot, even when they’re not too serious.” I notice Willow tense, like she’s suddenly realizing how I might know so much about injuries like this.

Ms. M enters the room. “I wanted to take them to the clinic right away,” she says, glancing at Willow.

Willow nods, still looking a little shaken. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what was going on,” she adds, her voice quiet but firm.

I nod, appreciating both of their instincts. “I trust both of you,” I say, making it clear I wouldn’t have been upset if Ms. M had just taken them. “But thank you, Willow, for wanting to keep me in the loop.”

I shift my attention back to Lucia, her little hand still gripping mine. “We’re going to the clinic now,” I say, my tone leaving no room for argument. I stand up, ready to move, then turn to Willow. “I want you to come with us.”

She nods, her eyes meeting mine with a mix of emotions—relief, fear, and something else I can’t quite place. But now’s not the time to dwell on it.

Right now, I need to make sure my little girl gets the care she needs.

Lucia looks up at me, her eyes a little unfocused, and says, “Daddy, I feel dizzy.”

A spike of worry shoots through me. Her eyes don’t look quite right, and dizziness is a serious red flag—she might have a concussion. I don’t want to scare her, so my voice is calm and gentle. “The doctor at the clinic will fix you right up,” I say, already thinking about the quickest way to get her to the clinic.

I turn to Ms. M, who’s hovering nearby, concern etched on her face. “Get the car ready.”

“Of course,” she replies, and without another word, she hurries off to do as I’ve asked.

I lead Willow and the girls into the kitchen, but I can see how tense Willow is around me, like she’s bracing herself for something bad. It guts me that she feels this way, but I can’t blame her after what she saw.

“Tell me what happened,” I ask, looking at Willow for confirmation.

“Lucia was climbing a rock at the park and lost her balance.”

“Willow told me to get down, but I didn’t want to,” Lucia confesses.

“We’ll talk about that later,” I say. to her.

As I step outside, Ms. M is pulling up in the Lexus SUV, the engine purring quietly. I carry Lucia close to my chest. Her little arms are wrapped around my neck, and I can feel how light and fragile she is at this moment. It tears at something deep inside me, but I push it down, focusing on getting her taken care of.

Willow helps Giulia into the car while I carefully strap Lucia into her seat. The sight of her with that wound on her head, looking so small and vulnerable, twists a knife in my gut. But I have to stay composed, for her sake.

“You’re going to be fine, baby,” I tell her, brushing a hand gently over her hair.

Lucia looks up at me, her voice small. “Are you coming, Papa?”

I frown. I have to get to Sal, tell him to take that son of bitch somewhere else. But I need to go with Lucia.

Ms. M sees my struggle and says, “Don’t worry. I can handle it until you get there.”

I force a reassuring smile when I look at Lucia. “Alright there, sweetheart. I just need to check in with Uncle Sal first.”

Willow says nothing, but I catch the look in her eyes—she knows exactly what I mean by “check in with Sal.” She knows I need to wrap up whatever unfinished business I have in the basement. She climbs into the front seat without speaking.

I close the car door gently, then turn to Ms. M. “Text me when you get there,” I instruct her..”

She nods, and without another word, she pulls away from the curb and into the street, heading toward the clinic. I watch them go for a moment, a heavy weight settling in my chest, before turning back toward the house.

I look up at the sky, noticing the dark clouds rolling in, turning a mean shade of gray. A hell of a storm is coming, and fast. I need my family home and safe before it hits.

As the thought crosses my mind, I pause, realizing something that hits me harder than expected—when I thought of my family, I was including Willow. The weight of that realization sinks in, making me sigh. By the end of the day, who knows if she’ll still be in my life? She could be drafting her resignation letter right now, and after what she saw, I wouldn’t blame her.

I push the thought aside for now and head back inside, making my way to the basement. I step into the garage and immediately notice Sal’s car is gone.

What the hell happened?

My eyes scan the area, trying to piece it together. Sal wouldn’t just leave without a word, not without checking in with me first. Something’s not right, and my gut twists with the possibilities. I move further into the garage, the cold creeping into my bones as I assess the situation.

I hurry down the stairs into the basement, my pulse quickening as I approach the hallway. The door to the interrogation room is open, and immediately, I know something’s gone wrong. I can feel it in the air, a sickening sense that something’s spiraled out of control.

“Boss!” Sal l’s voice calls out., strained but urgent.

I rush into the room and see him slumped against the wall; a nasty wound slashed across his face. Blood drips down his cheek, but there’s no sign of Jack. My gut twists with anger and frustration as I rush to Sal’s side.

“What the hell happened?” I demand, my voice sharp as I check the wound. It’s deep but not life-threatening.

Sal waves me off, grimacing. “I’m fine, boss. Jack must’ve taken advantage of the confusion with Willow to loosen his bindings. He caught me off guard—hit me hard, cut me with the bone saw, and then took my keys in the chaos.”

I let out a loud, furious “Shit!” that echoes through the room. The situation has gone from bad to worse, and now we’ve got a loose end on the run.

“You need to get that cut looked at,” I tell Sal.

Sal shakes his head. , stubborn as ever. “I’m fine, boss. I owe it to you to find Jack ASAP.”

I nod, knowing he’s right, but still uneasy. “I need to go check on Lucia. We’ll regroup after. Take one of my cars and go.”

Sal nods, holding a handkerchief to his face, and I turn on my heel, my mind shifting back to the girls and Willow.

This day is far from over, and it’s about to get a hell of a lot worse if we don’t get this situation under control.