The Mafia's Nanny

Emilia's POV

I tapped my leg continuously on the floor, my hands pressed tight together as I tried to stop them from shaking. My eyes were locked on the doctor's and I could hear him talking but I wasn't even listening. All that was on my mind was thoughts of how I was going to get twenty-five thousand dollars for Matteo's surgery. Twenty-five thousand dollars! A shudder ran through me. And that wasn't all. I still had to pay for the other hospital bills apart from the surgery fee.

It seemed like my life was just going haywire at this point, and there was absolutely nothing that I could do to stop it.

"Miss Abramo?" The doctor called, snapping her fingers in my face twice. I jumped, and then gave her an apologetic smile.

"You were saying?" I asked.

"Are you okay, Miss Abramo?" She eyed me warily. "You've been zoning out."

"Yeah, I'm okay," I lied, nodding. My hands began to shake and I clasped them together once again, taking in a deep breath as she continued.

"Miss Abramo, it's getting too late. If you don't pay for your brother's surgery within this week and the next, I'm afraid you might loose your brother," she said, her tone sympathetic and warning at the same time.

My heart flew to my throat and tears welled up in my eyes. She sighed, shaking her head a bit. "I'm sorry, Miss Abramo, but sugarcoating it won't solve the problem. You have to hurry and get the money, if not, your brother might die."

My heart clenched as she spoke and I shut my eyes hard, feeling a tear slide down my cheeks. I shook my head and sighed, opening my eyes. "It's okay," I murmured. "You don't have to keep mentioning it. I get it."

She pressed her lips together, trying for a smile but it was a grimace instead. I could see the pity in her eyes. And I hated it. I absolutely hated it.

"Thank you," I said to her as I got up. "I'll be back to check up on him later in the evening," I added before stepping out of her office and closing the door behind me. I needed to find a way to get twenty-five thousand dollars in just a week.

I ran my hands through my hair and rubbed my eyes. God. I was so tired. I hadn't slept properly in days and I had so much on my mind. Matteo was the only family I had, I couldn't let him die. At the same time, I had no money at all. I had to pay for his fees, and I still had to pay for our house rent. I've even sold my small café just to pay up but still it wasn't enough.

"Mommy?" I heard from somewhere around the hall as I walked towards the elevator. And then there was a little tug on my skirt. "Mommy!"

I frowned, looking down just to see a little girl with silver hair tugging at my skirt. "Mommy!" She squealed, her eyes wide and her lips stretched in a grin. She kept tugging at my skirt, her eyes expectant.

I sighed and mustered up a smile as I crouched down to her level. "Sweetie, what's your name?" I asked, taking her hands in mine.

"But mommy, you know my name!" She mumbled. She couldn't he more than three years old. "It's Francesca!"

"Well, Francesca, sweetie," I began and bit my lip, wondering how I was going to break the heart of the cutest little thing I've seen today. "I'm not your mom. But where is your mom though? I can take you to her."

"But you're my mommy!" She insisted, shaking her head. Tears welled up in her eyes and her lips began to quiver. "You're my mommy," she murmured.

"Francesca, sweetie, I'm not –" she didn't let me complete the sentence before she shook her head furiously and began to cry.

"Francesca... I..."

"You're my mommy!" She insisted, rubbing her eyes as she cried.

"Okay, okay," I murmured, carrying her in my arms as I stood. "It's okay, baby. Let's go," I added.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, putting her head on my shoulder. She had stopped crying at last. I ran my hands through her hair and kissed her Her cheek while I headed for the elevator. I'd drop her at the reception and go. Her parents, or guardians would find her there.

"Mommy will you come home with daddy and I?" She asked in a tiny voice, raising her head from my shoulder to look at me with her big, green eyes.

I opened my mouth to speak, but what cut me off was the men who suddenly appeared in front of me as they came out from the corner corridor just before the elevator. One of them locked their eyes on me and raised the gun he was holding immediately, pointing it at me. The other followed suit, scowls on their faces as if they wanted nothing more than to blow my brains off with the gun.

I blinked, gulping as I took a step back, only to feel cold metal at the back of my head.

"Uncle?" Francesca murmured, raising her head from my shoulder once again. But she wasn't looking at the men in front of me. She was looking at the one behind me and I whirled around on my feet, my eyes going wide at the man who had held a gun to the back of my head.

His eyes narrowed on me and I opened my mouth to speak, to ask what exactly was going on when Francesca spoke again. "Daddy! Look who I found!"

I turned around again, seeing as the men parted to make way for someone. Their boss maybe. The first thing I noticed was his forest green gaze as he stormed towards me, his eyes going from me to Francesca and back to me.

"You dare to try take my daughter away from me?" He seethed, stepping into my personal space. I took a step backwards and felt the gun at the back of my head again. A warning.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," I whispered, my voice shaking.

"Where are you taking my daughter to?" He demanded with narrowed eyes. "You're trying to kidnap her?"

I shook my head. "No, of course not! I was just taking her to the reception, so her parents can come meet her there. I...I didn't know you're her dad."

His eyes narrowed again as he stretched out his hand and tried to snatch her away from me. She only tightened her hold on me. "Daddy, will mommy come home with us today?"

His gaze snapped to me instantly. "Mommy?" He demanded.

"I tried to tell her I'm not her mother but she won't listen," I rushed out, my eyes darting to the men, and then back to him. I was very aware of the one behind me because he wouldn't stop pressing his gun to my head. Who were these men exactly? I knew one thing though. They were probably the most dangerous people I've ever met in my life. I gulped again, looking at Francesca's father. Really looking at him.

Gods.

He had to be the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. He had dark hair, and eyes so intense that I felt like he already knew me inside out. He had the prettiest olive skin and broad shoulders that fit his muscled frame. He was about 6'5. He had this lethal aura around him and right now it was focused on me.

I blinked, reminding myself that I had gotten into trouble here and I was not supposed to to be checking out the man who could order his men to kill me right now.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know she's your daughter," I mumbled, forcing myself to breath steadily and calm myself. "She came to me and I didn't know what to do."

"Francesca, she's not your mother," he said, his eyes staying on me for a moment longer before he looked at his daughter. "Come here." He added, stretching his hand and taking her from me in a firm but gentle manner.

"Allesio," he said. I was guessing that was the name of the man behind me. He dropped his gun.

"Get out," Francesca's father ordered as he cradled his daughter in his arms protectively. "Now."

I didn't wait to be told twice. I walked carefully till I was away from his men and their guns before I took off to the elevator, my heart pounding so hard in my chest that I was so sure he could hear it.

Alaric's POV.

I watched the girl scurry off to the elevator, her hair falling loose from the bun it was tied in and the horrible skirt she was wearing flowing behind her.

The elevator doors closed behind her, and I watched as she disappeared, her figure swallowed up by the steel doors. I clenched my jaw, suppressing the irritation bubbling under the surface. Emilia. That woman was a complication, a thorn that hadn't been there this morning and yet somehow had made her way into the very heart of my day.

"Are you sure she's not Mommy?" Francesca's voice was small, almost like she was asking herself rather than me.

I looked down at her, the tears glistening on her cheeks, her bottom lip trembling. I was used to Francesca's questions and the way her curiosity would fixate on the strangest things, but this...this fixation on a woman she'd only just met? Unusual, even for her.

"Yes, tesoro," I replied, keeping my voice firm but softened just enough for her, though I could feel her slipping away from me even as I spoke. "She's not your mother."

"But she looked at me like Mommy would," Francesca whispered, her hands gripping my shirt tightly as her gaze fell to the floor. A stubborn tear slipped down her cheek. She was spiralling and I couldn't control it. This wasn't what I had planned. I told that woman to leave, to get out of our lives as swiftly as she'd stumbled into them.

"Come now, Francesca." I moved forward, but she squirmed in my hold, her sobs starting to break through her small frame. She was holding back, trying to contain herself, but it was only a matter of time before this spiraled. I nodded to Allesio, who was lingering nearby, his eyes sharp, ever watchful.

"Everything okay, boss?" he asked, flicking his gaze from me to Francesca.

"For now," I muttered, though I knew it wasn't. Francesca's eyes were filled with the confusion and heartbreak only a child could feel, raw and unfiltered. And for a second, I felt an unwanted pang in my chest. I was failing her, in some way that I couldn't quite articulate.

"Daddy," Francesca whispered again, her voice broken. "Can we go back to her? Please? I want to see her again. Just once."

"Francesca," I sighed, feeling my patience wear thin. "We're going home. Now."

She stared at me, her face a perfect picture of stubbornness. I had seen that look before, often enough to know that it would take more than words to placate her. And then, the inevitable happened. Her little voice broke, escalating into a full-blown wail that echoed down the hallway.

"Francesca," I hissed, tightening my hold on her as her little fists hit my shoulder, her tiny but insistent punches landing harder than they should have for someone her size. I glanced around, half-worried that her cries might bring attention I couldn't afford.

"Allesio," I said, a command slipping into my tone. "Bring Emilia back."

"Are you sure, boss?" Allesio's brows arched up, but he didn't wait for an answer. I had known him long enough that he didn't need further explanation. He just turned on his heel and vanished down the hallway without another word.

Francesca continued sobbing, her face buried in my shoulder as I carried her down the hallway, her cries unrelenting and piercing, tearing at whatever remained of my patience. I had wanted to keep this simple. I told Emilia to leave to save us all this trouble, to ensure that no unnecessary entanglements crept into our lives. And yet here we were.

The drive home was a blur, Francesca's cries relentless, her small frame wracked with sobs in the backseat. I tried coaxing her, tried distracting her with anything and everything I could think of, but nothing seemed to reach her. Every few seconds, she would hiccup, her voice catching on her mother's name, though she had never even known the woman. Just a fantasy she clung to, one I could barely understand.

Once we were inside the house, I tried to settle her in the living room, setting her on her favorite couch, pulling out the stuffed bear she always kept close, her tiny fingers tracing its worn seams as her tears finally began to slow. She was silent now, but still hurting, her little breaths uneven.

"Francesca," I said, crouching down in front of her. "She's not coming. Do you understand?"

She stared at me, her eyes glassy, and nodded, but I knew she didn't believe it. She was already building a story in her mind, one where Emilia would walk through the door, sweep her up, and promise her everything she wanted to hear.

"Can you tell me what's wrong, tesoro?" I asked, my voice softer than before. I felt like a stranger to myself in that moment, breaking down layers I had carefully built for years.

She rubbed her eyes, trying to find words, and then whispered, "I thought she was Mommy."

"Francesca..." I sighed, feeling the weight of my own frustration. I didn't know how to explain to her, didn't know how to convince her to let go of something that didn't even exist.

I picked her up, carrying her to her bedroom. It was the one place where she felt safe, the walls painted a soft lavender that calmed her on most days, her bed filled with every stuffed animal she had ever loved. I set her down on the bed, pulling a blanket over her as she lay there, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as her tears slowly began to dry.

She looked at me, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed, and asked, "Why can't she come back, Daddy?"

"Because..." I hesitated, unsure of what to say, how to put it in a way that her young mind would understand. "Because she isn't your mother, Francesca. Sometimes, people come into our lives and then leave, and that's how it's meant to be."

"But what if she wants to stay?" she whispered, her voice almost inaudible.

"She doesn't, tesoro. She's not a part of our family."

The words sounded cold, even to my own ears. I hated how clinical it sounded, how harsh. But it was the truth. And I knew that if I allowed her to believe otherwise, it would only hurt her more in the end.

I sat on the edge of her bed, running a hand over her silver hair, feeling the softness of it under my fingers. She closed her eyes, her small body finally relaxing as the exhaustion of her outburst began to take its toll.

"Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Of course," I murmured, lying down beside her. I wrapped my arm around her, feeling the warmth of her small body next to mine as her breathing began to even out, the last of her tears drying on her cheeks.

As she drifted off, I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing. Everything about today had gone against my control. I hated when things went against my control. Emilia had come and gone, and yet she left a mark. One that my daughter had latched onto, one that I wasn't sure I could erase.

I wanted to punch the wall. God. I wanted to hit something, or to hit someone for how much control I lost today. For how I had lost Francesca in the hospital and how she had latched onto Emilia, calling her mommy. Saying she looked at her like mommy would. And that was unsettling because she had never met her mother.

Running my hands through my face, I got up from the bed and left the room as quietly as I could.

Emilia's POV.

I was pacing in the hallway outside my brother's room, my thoughts tangled and all about the brutal men that I had just encountered in the hallway. I had gotten into the elevator, only to go and take the second route, where they wouldn't see me, and gone back to Matteo's room, though I didn't enter. He'd see through me and I didn't want him getting worried. My mind kept replaying the scene in the hospital lobby-the little girl who looked at me like I was the answer to something, and her father, his presence as intimidating as it was magnetic.

I was lost in those thoughts when I felt someone grab my arm. I jerked around, ready to defend myself however I can, only to find a tall, muscular man gripping me tightly. He was dressed sharply, but his eyes were cold, businesslike. Allesio. He was the one holding the gun to my head.

"Let's go," he said, his voice low but firm.

I tried to pull away. "Excuse me, who do you think you are? Let me go!"

"You're coming with me," he replied, his tone flat. "No questions, no fuss."

I glanced around, hoping someone might notice, but the hallway was empty. "Why should I go anywhere with you?"

He tightened his grip just enough to show he wasn't bluffing. "Don't make a scene. It'll only make things worse."

Fear crept up my spine, but I forced myself to stay calm. "Fine," I said through gritted teeth. "But if you're kidnapping me, know that I'll fight my way out."

He didn't respond, just steered me through the elevator and then the side exit toward a waiting black car. The door opened, and he practically pushed me inside, closing it behind him as he climbed in the front seat next to the driver. The car started moving almost immediately, pulling away from the hospital.

"Who are you?" I asked, my tone sharper this time. "And where are you taking me?"

Silence.

I clenched my fists, glancing out of the windows and realizing I had no idea where we were going. My heart was pounding against my chest wildly. "Please just tell me where we're going," I begged.

He might as well be stone, because he didn't even react like as if he heard me. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the car slowed to a stop outside a building that looked far too elegant for a kidnapper's hideout.

"Out," Allesio ordered, and before I could protest, he opened the door and pulled me out. He guided me inside, leading me down a hallway and into a dimly lit office. The room was furnished in dark woods and leather, screaming wealth. I scanned the space, and there, behind a massive desk, sat the man from earlier-the one with the little girl.

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes calculating as they settled on me. "Emilia, is it?"

I folded my arms, forcing my voice to stay steady. "Yes. And you are?"

"Alaric Castillo," he replied smoothly, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Right." I lifted my chin. "Care to explain why I was dragged out of a hospital and brought here? Or are you in the habit of kidnapping strangers?"

He didn't flinch, just gestured to the chair opposite him. "Sit."

"I'd rather stand," I shot back, refusing to be intimidated. Gods. I was talking to a man whose men held guns to my head just because I touched his daughter, and yet I talk talking to him so rudely. I certainly had a death wish.

His lips twitched, almost as if he were amused. "Suit yourself."

I braced myself, determined not to let him see my nerves. "So? What is this about?"

His gaze turned more intense, like he was trying to see through me. "My daughter, Francesca. She's... attached herself to you. Unfortunate, but here we are."

I blinked, thrown off. "Attached herself? She just met me for the first time this morning."

"Yes. But children aren't known for their logic," he replied dryly. "All she's done since we left is cry about wanting to see you again."

I frowned, remembering the little girl's teary eyes. "She seemed... lonely."

Alaric leaned forward, his expression unreadable. "She needs someone in her life. Someone steady." He paused, and his gaze sharpened. "Someone like you."

I raised my eyebrows, taken aback. "You're saying you brought me here because your daughter likes me? That's... a stretch."

"I'm offering you a job," he clarified, his tone as cold as ever. "As her nanny."

His words sank in slowly, and I let out a laugh before I could stop myself. "You must be joking. I'm not a nanny."

"You don't have a job, do you?" His voice was calm, but there was a subtle edge to it.

I bristled. "What's it to you?"

"I looked into it. No employment, and..." He paused. "A brother in the hospital. Expensive bills, I'd imagine."

My heart dropped, and anger surged within me. "You did background research on me?"

"I had to be thorough," he replied with a shrug, as if this sort of invasion of privacy were completely normal. "I needed to know if you were a suitable choice."

"Suits me fine," I said coldly. "The answer is no. I'm not interested."

He didn't blink. "I wasn't asking."

I stared at him, caught off guard by his sheer audacity. "Excuse me?"

Alaric leaned back, his gaze unyielding. "You're going to be Francesca's nanny. She needs you, and you're more than capable. This arrangement will benefit us both."

"No," I repeated, shaking my head. "I don't have time for this. I have my own life, my own responsibilities. My brother needs me, and I can't just drop everything to look after your daughter."

Silence stretched between us as his eyes narrowed slightly, studying me. I could see his jaw tense, and there was something almost... predatory in his expression.

"Your brother," he said slowly, "could have his hospital bills covered. By me."

My heart skipped a beat. "What are you saying?"

"I'll pay for his treatment," he said smoothly, "and ensure he has a job when he recovers. Financial stability. Comfort. All the things I'm sure you want for him, I can provide."

It was like he'd punched the air out of my lungs. This man was offering me everything I'd been struggling for, but I knew it came at a price. I hesitated, weighing the cost. Working for a man like him, under his control... it was daunting, but the thought of my brother kept nagging at me.

"I see you're considering it," he said, almost smugly.

I gritted my teeth, refusing to let him see how tempting his offer was. "Fine. I'll negotiate."

"Negotiate?" He looked almost entertained by the notion.

"Yes." I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze head-on. "If I agree to be her nanny, you won't just cover my brother's bills. You'll also set him up with a job and provide enough financial support to keep him stable."

Alaric's eyes gleamed, and I could tell he hadn't expected me to push back. "You're bold, I'll give you that."

"You want me as your daughter's nanny, you meet my conditions," I replied, crossing my arms to hide how my hands were shaking. "Otherwise, find someone else."

He looked at me for a long moment, considering. Finally, he nodded. "Very well. Your terms are acceptable."