Chapter 34
Jess
I’m standing on the stoop of a brownstone in Queens at eight thirty on a Friday morning trying very hard not to think about the fact that in approximately three hours I’ll be in actual wilderness with actual trees.
Marco’s beside me. Close enough that I can smell that unique mixture of his cologne and him. When he spanked me over his knee and made me wetter than I’ve even been in my entire life.
Narrator voice: He did not just spank me. He claimed me.
The ritualized control.
The way he made me count each strike.
And honestly?
I wanted him to claim me.
Wanted him to make me his.
More than anything.
Because, well, let’s be frank. I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with him.
And that’s absolutely terrifying because what happens when this ends?
When the nanny contract expires or Ben doesn’t need me anymore or the novelty wears off and he realizes I’m just an unemployed influencer with a phobia and a metric ton of baggage?
When your adult attraction decides to remind you that you’re in way too deep with a man who’s probably ruined every other man for you forever.
Cool.
At least the wilderness will be a distraction, later. Something else to panic about besides the fact that I might be catastrophically in love with my boss.
Except I’m also dreading the wilderness because, you know, trees.
So really it’s a toss-up between emotional devastation and actual nature-based terror.
Fun times.
“You good?” he asks quietly.
“Totally.” I’m nodding too much. Definitely nodding too much. “Just excited for fresh air and nature and all that outdoorsy stuff I definitely love.”
His mouth twitches like he knows I’m full of shit but won’t call me on it.
The door opens and Livia appears. Ben’s grandmother. Isotta’s mother. She’s got that old-world Italian elegance that makes me feel like I showed up to a wedding in sweatpants.
“Marco.” She kisses both his cheeks. Then her judging eyes land on me. “Jessica.”
Not Jess. Not J. Jessica. Said as if she there’s a bug in her mouth and my name is the bug.
Cool.
“Good morning, Mrs. Caldarelli.” I try for warm and professional even though I’m pretty sure she can smell the sex on me from last night. Or maybe that’s just my paranoia talking.
Actually, it’s definitely paranoia. I showered. Twice. And I’m wearing a turtleneck sweater to hide the hickeys on my neck, even though it’s a fairly hot day.
“Ben is finishing her breakfast,” Livia says, stepping aside to let us in. “Enzo made her special sfogliatelle.”
The conceited way she says sfogliatelle just makes me cringe.
Seriously, I want to swear off that particular pastry for the rest of my life, thanks to her.
Too bad Ben likes them so much. Says they remind her of ‘snail shells,’ which make sense, considering they’re vaguely shell shaped, though more of a flat clam shell than a spiraling snail shell.
Inside, the house smells like butter and powdered sugar. Reminds me of the cloying scent of bakeries. It’s actually kind of... homely, to be honest.
We follow Livia to the kitchen where Ben’s at the table with pastry crumbs on her face and Frederick propped in the chair beside her.
“Daddy! Jess!” She launches herself at us. I catch her mid-air while Marco steadies us both.
I quickly blink away tears.
When you realize you’ve become part of a unit without actually trying.
“Hey sweet girl.” I set her down and brush crumbs off her navy jumper. “Did you have fun with Nonna and Nonno?”
“So much fun!” She’s bouncing enthusiastically now. “We made seventeen sfogliatelle and I only ate four. Maybe five. Frederick ate one, too.”
“Frederick’s very brave,” I tell her seriously.
Enzo appears from the bakery side of the house. He’s got flour in his hair and that warm energy that makes you want to hug him. Unlike his wife, he actually smiles when he sees me.
“Jessie!” he says. “You take good care of our girl this weekend, yes?”
“Always,” I promise.
Livia makes a small sound. Not quite disapproval, but not quite approval either.
Just.
A sound.
Marco’s already moving toward Ben’s overnight bag. All business. “We should get going. Want to beat traffic.”
“Of course.” Livia’s watching me now. Staring at me, basically. “Jessica, a word?”
Oh no.
This is where she tells me to stay away from her son-in-law.
Or calls me a gold digger.
Or both.
Here we go.
I follow her into the hallway while Marco helps Ben into her coat. The whole time, Marco keeps giving his mother-in-law suspicious looks until we’re finally out of view.
“I know what you’re doing,” Livia says quietly.
My face goes hot. “I’m sorry?”
“With Marco.” She crosses her arms. “I see the way you look at him. The way he looks at you. Think you’ve snagged yourself a billionaire, huh? Think you’re going to get a lot of money, huh?”
Fuck fuck fuck.
“Mrs. Caldarelli, I promise I’m just here to take care of Ben.” The lie tastes sour. “Nothing inappropriate is happening. And I don’t care about Marco’s money.” The latter part is true, at least.
Mostly.
“Nothing inappropriate...” Her voice is soft but there’s steel underneath. “My daughter hasn’t been gone three years and already there’s someone new warming his bed.”
The words hit like a slap.
I should defend myself. Should explain that Marco’s allowed to move on. That grief doesn’t have an expiration date but neither does it require permanent celibacy.
Instead I just say, “I respect your daughter’s memory. And I would never do anything to hurt Ben.”
“See that you don’t!” She stares angrily at me, and opens her mouth as if to say more, but then bites her lip. She turns to go, then pauses. Without looking at me, she says: “Employees should remember their places...”
And then she’s gone.
I make it back to the kitchen on shaky legs. Marco’s got Ben’s bag but as soon as I appear and he sees the expression on my face he makes a beeline toward me.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
“Never better,” I reply, risking a quick glance at Livia.
Yup, she’s glaring at me from the main entrance.
We head for that door. Enzo gives me another hug and presses a container of pastries into my hands.
“For the road,” he says kindly.
At least one of them doesn’t think I’m the devil.
We make it to the Range Rovers where Jag’s waiting. The engines of both vehicles are already running. We go to the lead vehicle. Marco loads the bag while I buckle Ben into her seat.
“Jess?” She’s looking at me with those big brown eyes. “Why does Nonna hate you?”
Ouch.
“She doesn’t hate me, sweetie.” I adjust Frederick in her lap. “She’s just protective of you and your daddy. That’s her job as a nonna.”
“But you’re nice,” Ben insists. “You should tell her you’re nice.”
“I’ll work on that,” I promise.
Marco climbs into the back seat beside me instead of up front with Jag. His thigh presses against mine and suddenly the Range Rover feels very small and very warm.
Jag pulls away from the curb. The second Range Rover, driven by Felipe, follows behind us. I watch the brownstone disappear in the side mirror.
“I’m sorry about that,” Marco says quietly. Not looking at me. Looking straight ahead.
I smile sadly. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not,” he growls.
He’s right.
It’s not really fine.
But what am I supposed to say? That his dead wife’s mother just made it very clear I’m an interloper? That I feel guilty for sleeping with him even though I absolutely don’t regret it?
At least he doesn’t ask me what she said.
“Can we play a game?” Ben asks from her seat. “Me and Frederick want to play.”
“What game?” Marco’s voice shifts. Lighter. Dad mode activated.
“Guess the animal!” She’s already pulling out the set of laminated cards Marco keeps in the backseat for long drives. “Frederick gets to be the guesser.”
For the next twenty minutes, Ben describes animals while Frederick (via Ben’s voice) makes increasingly ridiculous guesses.
“It has stripes,” Ben says.
“Is it a... pizza?” Frederick-via-Ben asks.
“Pizza isn’t an animal, Frederick!”
“But it could be. If the pizza was alive.”
Marco’s laughing. The sound does things to my chest that have nothing to do with attraction and everything to do with this feeling that maybe I’m a part of something real here.
When you realize you’re not just the nanny anymore.
When you realize that’s both terrifying and perfect.
We’re about forty minutes into the drive when Marco shifts closer. Our thighs were already touching, but now our arms are, too. He leans his head toward me, and his voice drops low enough that Ben can’t hear over her game.
“Can I tell you something?”
My stomach does its usual butterfly thing. “Always.”
He’s quiet for a beat. Then: “When Ben was born, I told everyone I had a son.”
I blink. “What?”
“For the first two years of her life.” His jaw tightens. “I wanted a son so badly. So I just... told people I had one. Used he, him. The whole thing.”
Oh.
Oh wow.
“I was an asshole,” he continues. “A complete asshole. And then one day I looked at her and realized I loved her more than any son. More than anything.”
My throat goes tight.
“I still treat her like a boy sometimes,” he admits. “Rougher than I should. Stricter. Taking her on this hunting trip, for example. Most dads wouldn’t bring a daughter along on a trip like this. But she’s... she’s everything.”
I don’t know what to say. What do you say to that kind of confession?
He’s Marco Fiore. The restaurateur billionaire who just admitted he’s human and flawed and trying.
“You’re a good dad,” I tell him finally. Softly, so Ben can’t hear. “Like, genuinely good. Ben’s lucky.”
“Am I though?” His eyes meet mine. Dark and searching. His voice is barely a whisper. “A good dad wouldn’t have wanted someone else while his wife was alive. Wouldn’t be sitting here wondering if...”
He stops.
“Wondering what?” My voice is softer than his, if that’s possible. So soft, I wonder if he even heard me.
Finally he answers. “Wondering if I could love you the way I loved her. And if that makes me... terrible.”
Oh God.
He said love.
He said YOU.
My face is burning. My heart feels like it’s about to escape my chest through sheer force of will.
But he said ‘could,’ I remind myself.
Could.
And that’s the key word.
He doesn’t love me.
Not yet.
“You’re not terrible,” I manage. “You’re just. Human.”
“Daddy!” Ben’s voice cuts through the moment. “Frederick says the answer is elephant!”
“Is Frederick right?” Marco asks, not breaking eye contact with me.
“Yes! Frederick’s so smart!”
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t process the fact that Marco Fiore just used the word love in a sentence that included me.
He doesn’t love me yet, I remind myself.
Jag’s voice cuts through the mental fog. “Approaching route waypoint. Filepe confirms satphone connectivity. All systems green.”
Right.
The trip.
The cabin.
The woods that I’m absolutely not terrified of.
When you have to choose between having a breakdown about feelings or a breakdown about trees.
Why not both?
My phone buzzes. Filepe in the security chat: Benign tail noted. Nothing actionable. Proceed as planned.
Marco checks his phone, nods, then looks at me. “You good?”
No. I’m not good. I’m thinking about what he said. About love. About whether he could love me. About whether I’m ready for that.
And about the fact that in two hours I’ll be completely surrounded by trees and trying very hard not to have a complete meltdown.
“Totally good,” I lie. “Just thinking about wilderness safety protocols.”
“Liar,” he says softly. But he’s smiling.
We drive. Ben plays games. Frederick makes questionable animal guesses. The city gives way to suburbs. Suburbs give way to trees. We take a side road. The pines surround us.
I count breaths. One, two, three. Smell the cocoa. Blow the steam.
Marco’s hand finds mine in the space between our seats. Squeezes once.
I squeeze back.
And for just a moment, I let myself believe that maybe I can get through this. Maybe I can be brave enough for what’s coming. The woods. The feelings. The future that’s taking shape whether I’m ready or not.
Ben giggles at something Frederick said. The sound fills the Range Rover like light.
I can do this.
I can be brave.
For them.
Even if I’m absolutely, completely, lying.