Chapter 5 #2
No. No fucking way. He’d be chewing the shit out of me if he knew. He might suspect, maybe. But he doesn’t know.
“I can work with freestyle,” I tell him.
Another pause. Longer this time.
“This have anything to do with last night?” Ethan’s voice has shifted. Less casual. More protective older brother. “You two stayed after I left.”
Oh shit. Be very, very careful...
“We talked.” The lie comes easy. Too easy. “That’s it.”
“Just talked.”
“Just talked.”
He doesn’t believe me. I can hear it in the silence.
“Look,” I say, “if you don’t want to mention it to her, fine. I’ll find someone else.”
“No, I’ll ask.” He sounds reluctant. “But Marco, seriously. She’s my little sister. If you’re gonna hire her, it needs to be professional. No bullshit.”
“Of course.” My jaw is tight. “It’s a job. Nothing else.”
Nothing else.
Except I can still feel her under my hands. Can still hear the sounds she made. Can still taste her on my tongue.
Nothing else is the biggest lie I’ve told since Isotta died and everyone asked if I was okay.
“I’ll ask her,” Ethan says finally. “See if she’s interested.”
“Thanks.”
“Yeah. Hey, you good? You sound off.”
“I’m fine.” Another lie. “Just stressed about coverage. The nanny quitting thing, caught me off guard.”
“Right. Well, I’ll keep you posted.”
He hangs up.
I stand there in my kitchen with my phone in my hand and a sick feeling in my gut.
What the hell did I just do?
Jess Riley. In my house. With my daughter. Every day.
This is the worst idea I’ve ever had.
This is going to end in disaster.
This is going to rip open every scar I’ve spent two years trying to close.
But I can’t take it back now. The words are out there. Ethan’s going to ask her. She’s going to say yes or no.
And part of me, the part I’ve been trying to strangle since Vegas, is hoping like hell she says yes.
Because I want her here.
I want her close.
I want to see if last night was real or if I’ve finally lost my mind.
“Daddy!” Ben calls from the hallway. “I can’t find my shoes!”
“Coming.” I pocket my phone and head toward her voice.
One crisis at a time.
Find the shoes. Do the school run. Get through the day.
Figure out what the fuck I’m going to do about Jess later.
She probably won’t accept the job anyway.
I find Ben’s shoes under the couch. Of course. I help her put them on, tie the laces, grab her backpack.
Rosa hands me the lunch box with the little note she writes every day.
“You’re braver than you think.”
I used to write those notes. Before. When I had the bandwidth for small gestures.
Now Rosa does it. And I let her. Because some days just getting Ben to school feels like climbing Everest.
We head to the garage. Jag’s already there, leaning against the Range Rover, scrolling his phone. He straightens when he sees us.
“Morning, boss. Miss Ben.”
“Morning, Jag.” Ben climbs into her car seat. I buckle her in, check the straps twice, and close the door.
Jag waits until I’m around the front of the vehicle. “Everything good?”
“Nanny quit.”
His eyebrows go up. “Matilda?”
“Yep.”
“Damn.” He opens the driver’s side door for me. “You need coverage?”
“Working on it.”
I slide behind the wheel. Jag takes the passenger seat. This is the routine. Jag rides shotgun for school runs. Filepe handles advance at the building. Luis monitors from home base.
Overkill? Maybe.
But Ben is the only thing that matters. And I’m not taking chances.
We pull out of the garage. Morning traffic is already building. I navigate the streets on autopilot while my brain spins.
I need to text Niamh. Get her fielding resumes. Book a temp from the agency for next week.
And I need to figure out what the hell I’m going to say if Jess actually agrees to this.
No fraternization. That’s rule one. It goes in the contract. In bold. Highlighted. Maybe skywritten.
And absolutely, under no circumstances, am I allowed to think about her the way I’m thinking about her right now.
Because this is about Ben.
This is about stability.
I pull up to Ben’s school. Filepe’s already there, positioned at the curb. Protective triangle. Me, Ben, driver. We do this dance every morning.
“Okay, piccola.” I turn in my seat. “Have a good day. I’ll see you at three thirty.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“What if you forget?”
“I won’t forget.”
“But what if you do?”
This again.
“Ben.” I reach back and squeeze her hand. “I will be here at three thirty. I promise.”
She squeezes back. “Okay.”
Jag opens her door. I watch him walk her to the entrance where her teacher is waiting. They exchange a few words. Ben glances back once, checking I’m still here.
I wave.
She disappears inside.
And I can finally breathe.
Jag returns to the passenger seat. “She’s good.”
“For now.”
We pull away from the curb. My phone buzzes. I glance at the screen. It’s Niamh.
Got your message. Starting outreach. Temp agency has someone available Monday. Sending details.
Good. At least I’ll have options.
Another text. This one from Valentina.
Reminder: You have dad blocks tonight. No meetings past 5pm. Also, you’ve been looking terrible lately. Sleep more.
I ignore that one.
The day blurs. Meetings with Gianna about the Pane e Bosco expansion. A tasting with Matteo that I can barely focus on. Conference call with the Vegas HQ that I handle from the back office while Valentina fields interruptions.
Through all of it, my phone stays silent.
No text from Ethan.
No word from Jess.
Which is fine.
Probably better.
Definitely safer.
But by three p.m., when I’m back in the Range Rover heading to Ben’s school, I’m checking my phone every thirty seconds like a goddamn teenager.
Nothing.
I pick up Ben. She’s quiet on the ride home. I ask about her day. She gives one-word answers. Fine. Good. Okay.
At home, Rosa has snacks ready. Ben eats crackers and apple slices while I pretend to read emails.
My phone buzzes.
I grab it so fast I almost drop it. Ethan.
Talked to Jess. Not sure she’s interested.
The words hit like a sucker punch.
Not interested.
Fuck me.
Stupid. This whole thing was stupid. Of course she’s not interested. Why would she be?
She spent one evening with me and after the most mind-blowing sex I’ve ever had I left like a coward. She probably thinks I’m an asshole.
She’s probably right.
And now I’ve blown any chance at having her close.
Which is good. Smart. Safer for everyone.
Except it doesn’t feel good.
It feels like loss.
Like watching something I wanted slip through my fingers before I even had a chance to hold it.
I set the phone down. Force myself to focus. On Ben. She’s asking Rosa something about tomorrow’s lunch. And when Matilda will get here.
This is fine.
This is better.
Jess Riley staying out of my life means I can keep pretending last night didn’t happen. It means I can maintain the careful distance I’ve built. And it means I don’t have to face the fact I want something I have no right to want.
But Christ.
It still feels like getting kicked in the ribs.
I pocket my phone and tell myself to move on.
Find another nanny.
Someone professional.
Someone who won’t make me feel like this.
Someone who isn’t her.
Damn it.
Not sure I can.