Nanny for the Don: Chapter 9

I’m driving through the quiet Sunday morning streets of Manhattan, the city barely waking up as I navigate through the familiar routes.barely up.

Fatigue weighs heavily on me, a consequence of the long, grueling day before. I’d spent most of it chasing down leads, trying to get to the bottom of my father’s murder. The frustration of it all is a constant throb at the back of my skull, and no amount of coffee or determination seems to dull it.

As I’m lost in thought, my phone buzzes. I glance at the screen before answering, recognizing the name instantly. Salvatore “Sal” Mancini. One of the few men I trust in this whole mess.

“What’ve you got for me, Sal?” I ask, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

“Not much, boss,” Sal responds. “, a hint of frustration in his tone. “We’ve been shaking down every contact we’ve got, but nothing new has come up. It’s like everyone’s gone deaf, dumb, and blind overnight.”

I grip the steering wheel tighter, anger simmering just below the surface. “It’s insane, Sal. My father gets taken out, and there’s no word on the street? Not a damn whisper?”

“Yeah, it all stinks to high heaven,” Sal agrees, his voice laced with the same frustration I’m feeling.. “It’s like someone’s got the whole city under their thumb, keeping this thing quiet.”

I exhale sharply, the pieces of the puzzle refusing to fit together. Someone out there knows what happened, and I won’t stop until I find them.

Sal’s going over potential plans, laying out the options in that methodical way of his, but my focus drifts the moment I pull up to my townhouse. The front of the place is completely transformed—decked out in the most tasteful Christmas decor I’ve ever seen..

Twinkling white lights wrap around the columns and railings, casting a warm glow across the fresh layer of snow that’s just beginning to fall, like something straight out of a holiday movie. Wreaths with red bows hang perfectly on each window, and garlands are draped over the front door, their evergreen branches dotted with pinecones and holly berries.

It’s the kind of thing that shouldn’t get to me, but it does. There’s something almost too perfect about it, too serene compared to the chaos in my life.

“Boss, you still there?” Sal’s voice cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back to the conversation.

“Yeah,” I mutter., shaking my head as if to clear it. “We’ll talk later, Sal.”

I end the call and pull into the private garage on the lowest level. The snow’s still falling softly as I step out of the car, but my mind’s already on the interior of the house. I take the elevator up to the first floor, and as the doors open, I’m greeted by the same level of holiday perfection inside.

The halls are lined with more garlands, each one more intricate than the last, with shimmering ornaments and delicate fairy lights. Every surface is adorned with something festive—candles, miniature reindeer, and perfectly placed poinsettias.

It’s warm, inviting, and just as stunning as the exterior. I take a deep breath, letting the scene sink in as I step further inside, my tension momentarily melting away.

As I head toward the den, I’m stopped in my tracks by the sound of excited little voices. Giulia and Lucia come barreling in, their faces lit up with pure joy as they rush to greet me. They throw their tiny arms around my legs, nearly knocking me off balance. I smile at them, the weight of the morning’s stress lifting as I lean down to kiss each of their foreheads.

“Papa!” they squeal in unison, their eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Hey, my little angels,” I greet them warmly, ruffling their hair. Their joy is contagious, and for a moment, the darkness of the past few days fades into the background.

Olivia enters the room, her presence bringing me back to reality. As much as I’m focused on my girls, I can’t help but scan the room for Willow.

“Where’s Willow?”

Olivia raises an eyebrow, a knowing look in her eyes that suggests she’s already pieced together more than I’d like. “She has Sundays off, remember? But I believe she’s down in the gym.”

Before I can respond, the girls are tugging at my hands, their excitement bubbling over. “Papa, come see the tree! You have to see it!” Giulia insists, pulling me toward the den.

The twins tug me into the den, and the sight that greets me is nothing short of breathtaking. The Christmas tree stands tall and majestic, its branches full and perfectly shaped. Twinkling lights weave through the greenery, casting a soft, magical glow that dances across the room. Ornaments of every kind hang from the branches—glass baubles, delicate snowflakes, and handmade decorations that add a personal touch. The star at the top shines brightly, completing the picture-perfect scene.

The fire crackles in the fireplace, filling the den with a warmth that makes the room feel inviting in a way it usually isn’t.

“Papa, look!” Giulia’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts as she proudly holds up an ornament. It’s simple but beautiful—a picture of the three of us, framed in a little wreath she clearly made herself. The sight of it hits me harder than I expected, and I feel a lump form in my throat.

“We went tree shopping with Miss Willow and Ms. M!” Lucia chimes in, her voice filled with excitement.in. “And we got all the ornaments and decorations!”

“Then we made Christmas cookies with Miss Willow last night!” Giulia adds, practically bouncing on her toes.

Olivia winks at me. “And don’t worry, Mr. Conti—there was no fire this time.”

The girls are still bouncing with excitement, their energy seemingly endless. “Ms. M, can we go to the park and play in the snow?” Lucia asks, her eyes wide with anticipation.

Olivia smiles, always patient with them. “Yes, of course.”

Giulia turns to me. , her face lit up with hope. “Papa, will you come with us?”

I kneel down to their level, my hands resting on their small shoulders. “I’d love to, but I have some things I need to finish first.” Their faces fall with disappointment, and it tugs at something deep inside me.. “But I promise,” I add, my tone firm and sincere,, “as soon as you get back, the rest of the day is ours. We’ll do whatever you want.”

That promise seems to satisfy them, and they both nod eagerly. “Okay, Papa!” they chime together.

Olivia gathers them up and they head out, leaving me standing alone in the den. I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering guilt, and head into the kitchen. There, I start making a pre-workout shake, reminding myself that I haven’t had any gym time lately. That needs to change. First, a workout, then work.

I change into my workout clothes and make my way downstairs. As I reach the gym, I remember Olivia mentioned Willow was down here. I push open the door, and the sight that greets me stops me in my tracks.

Willow is in the middle of a yoga pose, her body perfectly aligned, every muscle engaged. The sheer grace of her movement, the way her leggings cling to every curve, leaves me thunderstruck. I stand there, unable to look away, my breath catching in my throat.

I hear Willow’s voice, clear and confident. She’s facing away from me, her attention focused on her open laptop. I glance at the screen and see a grid of little squares, each one showing someone in their own space, following along. It hits me—she’s teaching a virtual class.

I hold the door open, letting her words wash over me.

“Alright, everyone, let’s finish strong,” she says, her tone encouraging and upbeat. “Move into your final Warrior II, really ground yourself through your feet. Feel that strength, that power in your legs. We’re wrapping up with some deep, calming stretches, so take this time to focus on your breath.”

She flows into the next pose, her movements fluid and graceful, like she was made for this.

I stand in the doorway, watching her lithe body as she moves seamlessly from one pose to the next, her skin-tight workout clothes clinging to every curve. The way her muscles flex and stretch is mesmerizing, each movement drawing me in more than I’d like to admit.

I can’t tear my eyes away from her, the sight of her stretching before me igniting something primal deep inside.. My cock pulses to life, responding instantly to the sight of her. The temptation to step inside and make my presence known is almost too much to resist, but I force myself to stay put, letting the desire simmer just beneath the surface.

I watch as she moves from position to position, each transition seamless, filled with poise and ease. Her body is a work of art, even more beautiful in motion. The way those yoga pants hug her ass, showing off every curve, makes it impossible to look away. Her tank top clings to her in all the right places, highlighting the gentle swell of her breasts, the curve of her waist leading down to those full, sexy-as-fuck hips. She’s graceful, almost like a dancer, every movement deliberate and skilled.

I know I shouldn’t be staring, eyeing her like she’s a piece of meat, but damn it, I can’t help myself. Something about her draws me in and makes it impossible to pretend I’m unaffected.

My mind flashes back to Friday night in the library, the way she felt beneath me, the way she responded to every touch. I’d told her we needed to put it behind us, that it was a mistake, but right now, standing here watching her, it’s hard as hell to convince myself.

I want her. It’s that simple, that primal. Even though I know better, even though I’ve tried to push it out of my mind, the desire lingers, simmering just beneath the surface. And as much as I hate to admit it, it’s getting harder and harder to pretend I don’t want her again.

I’m not the kind of man who constantly lusts after women half my age. But something about Willow pulls me in, making it harder to keep my distance. It’s not just her body—though God knows that’s part of it—it’s the way she carries herself.

I listen as she wraps up the lesson, her voice calm and professional. “Alright, everyone, great job today! Does anyone have any questions before we finish?”

As I watch her answer the questions like a pro, I push the thought of how sexy she looks doing those poses out of my mind. I remind myself that she’s incredibly talented, knowledgeable, and deserves more respect than to be ogled like this.

But as she closes the laptop and stretches one more time, her body arching in a way that makes my heart pound, I realize I’m at a crossroads. I could shut the door and walk away, leave things as they are. Or I could step inside, make my presence known, and see where it leads.

The decision doesn’t take long. I open the door wider and step inside.