8. Casey
By the time Friday rolls around, Letty informs me—very firmly—that it’s her last day of preschool before Christmas, which apparently means she deserves a treat.
“It’s important,” she explains, standing in the middle of the kitchen with her coat half on and her hair still slightly crooked from where I braided it that morning. “Because I worked very hard.”
“At what, exactly?” I ask, reaching to fix her braid properly.
“Learning,” she says, like it should be obvious.
I huff out a quiet laugh, smoothing the loose strands back into place. “Well, we can’t ignore that level of effort.”
“So we’re going out?”
“We’re going out,” I confirm.
That’s all the encouragement she needs.
“Do we have to wear scarves?” Letty asks as I wrap hers securely around her neck, her voice already edged with complaint.
“Yes,” I say, tucking the ends into her coat so they won’t come loose.
“I can’t breathe.”
“You’re talking, so you can breathe,” I point out, adjusting her hat when it slips back slightly.
“That’s because I’m strong.”
A smile pulls at my mouth despite myself. I crouch a little to make sure everything is sitting properly, smoothing the wool down over her ears before straightening again. “Hat stays on,” I add.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
I lift an eyebrow at her, holding her gaze just long enough. I love that this child feels secure enough to fight her corner, even if it does make my job harder.
She exhales dramatically, shoulders slumping as if I’ve personally ruined her day, and tilts her head forward in reluctant surrender. “This is not fair,” she mutters.
“It’s very fair,” I correct. “We don’t want your ears to fall off.”
Letty’s eyes widen, and I roll my lips to hide my smile from her as she tugs her hat more firmly over her ears.
The city greets us the moment we step outside, cold and sharp and immediate. The wind cuts between buildings, tugging at my coat as I pull it tighter around myself, and the sidewalk is already busy with people moving quickly, coffee cups clutched in gloved hands, breath visible in the air.
I’ve already sent a text to Adriano letting him know our plans for the afternoon.
Adriano had been clear early on—if I took Letty out, his security team would be aware of where we were at all times.
He hadn’t asked for my agreement, and he hadn’t explained it either. He’d simply said it, like it was a fact rather than an instruction.
I hadn’t argued. It wasn’t the kind of thing you argued with. I knew there was an undercurrent of danger with the Mancini family, from Isabella and what happened when she was kidnapped by their estranged uncle last year, so security made sense to me.
The fact they’re so unintrusive makes life easier, though. Not bulked-up goons like some of the people I’d nannied for employed. No, these men are discreet, professional, and polite.
Letty slips her hand into mine without thinking, her small fingers warm against my palm even through the fabric, and we fall into step together toward the park, our shadows fading into the background.
“Can we get hot chocolate?” she asks after a few minutes, glancing up at me.
“Maybe.”
“That means yes.”
“That means behave.”
“I always behave.”
I glance down at her.
She grins back, completely unconvincing.
We both know that’s not true.
The park is crowded despite the cold, the ice rink busy with families and the surrounding stalls strung with winter greenery and soft lights.
The scent of roasted chestnuts drifts through the air, warm and sweet against the bite of the wind, and Letty slows automatically, her attention caught by everything at once.
“This one looks like Matteo,” she says, picking up a small fox ornament and holding it up for inspection.
“Why?” I ask, leaning slightly closer.
“Because it has poofy hair.”
“That seems fair.”
She giggles, placing it back carefully before drifting to the next display.
We move slowly through the market, stopping here and there, her commentary constant and easy, and for a little while I feel the tightness in my chest loosen just enough to forget about everything else.
The calls from Jasper thankfully stopped after last weekend, and I’m hoping he finally got the message.
Which is probably why I don’t notice him right away.
“Casey.”
The sound of my name, spoken with that particular familiarity, hits low and sharp. For a moment, I don’t move at all, my body going still as my brain catches up to what I’ve just heard, and then I turn slowly.
Jasper stands a few feet away, his hands pushed into the pockets of his coat, watching me as if nothing about this is unusual. As if we didn’t end things weeks ago in a way that should have made this impossible.
“What are you doing here? How did you find me?” I ask, my voice quieter than I expect, my grip tightening around Letty’s hand without thinking.
His mouth curves slightly, not quite a smile, but close enough to make something in my chest twist uncomfortably. It’s his ‘aw shucks’ smile, and it used to work on me every time. Now I just find it childish.
“You stopped answering me. You wouldn’t listen, so I had a friend of mine find you,” he says, as though that explains everything.
The thought that he has people looking for me makes me want to be sick.
Beside me, Letty shifts closer, her shoulder brushing against my side, and I feel the small movement immediately, grounding and urgent all at once.
She’s picking up on the tension in the air, and I hate that he’s forcing her to feel it.
No matter my feelings, my only job here is to keep her safe.
“This isn’t the place,” I tell him, already stepping back and angling my body so she’s slightly behind me without making it obvious.
His gaze drops anyway, drawn inevitably to her, and something changes in his expression when he really sees her for the first time. “Right,” he says slowly, his tone shifting in a way that makes my stomach tighten. “So, this is what you’re doing. Looking after another man’s kid again.”
I notice the bodyguards around me, one on his phone, the other moving closer so he’s ready to intervene if he needs to.
Most would have already done so, but I know Adriano doesn’t want Letty exposed to unnecessary confrontation, which is why, because things are calm, they’re holding off and allowing me to handle it for now.
Knowing they’re close gives me the courage I need to stand up to Jasper.
Heat rises under my skin, sharp and furious. How dare he come here and criticize my choices. “Don’t,” I say, keeping my voice low and controlled, though it takes more effort than I want to admit.
“You disappear. You ignore me for weeks, and I’m supposed to what—just accept that?” he continues, his voice still quiet enough not to draw attention, but now edged with something harder. “I’ve been trying to talk to you.”
“And I’ve been ignoring you on purpose,” I reply, meeting his gaze fully. “That should have been clear. We said everything we needed to say. It’s over.”
His jaw tightens; the shift in him subtle but unmistakable. “That’s not how this ends, Casey.”
“It already has.” Letty’s hand tightens in mine, and that’s enough to push me past any lingering hesitation. “We’re leaving,” I say, turning before he can respond, guiding her with me. I turn away from him, safe in the knowledge I have people watching my back.
This time, he doesn’t try to stop us.
But I can feel his attention following us as we move, heavy and insistent in a way that makes it impossible to fully relax.
We walk quickly, Letty matching my pace without complaint, her earlier excitement replaced by quiet curiosity.
“Casey?” she asks softly, glancing up at me.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, squeezing her hand gently. “We’re just getting hot chocolate and then we’ll skate, okay?”
She nods immediately, trusting me without question. “Okay.”
We step into one of the covered stalls near the rink, the warmth wrapping around us as the scent of chocolate and cinnamon cuts through the cold air.
I position her in front of me while we wait, my hand resting lightly on her shoulder, grounding both of us as I keep my attention angled toward the entrance.
I smile as I order us both a hot chocolate and pretend like my heart isn’t hammering in my chest. Letty wraps her gloved hands around the child’s to-go cup, her eyes bright on the whipped cream. I guide her toward the Rockefeller Centre and the skating rink, but I can still feel eyes on me.
When I look back, he’s followed us, standing just far enough away not to draw attention, but close enough that there’s no mistaking what he’s doing.
Watching.
This time, though, something shifts in the space around him.
Two more of Adriano’s guards move into position behind him, subtle enough that most people wouldn’t notice, their attention outward, scanning rather than settling.
The change is quiet but unmistakable, the kind of controlled presence that doesn’t interrupt anything, yet alters the atmosphere of the entire space.
I notice.
Jasper does too, his eyes pinching at the corners.
I see his posture tighten, his gaze flicking briefly toward them before returning to me, something more calculated settling into his expression where frustration had been moments before.
For a second, neither of us moves, the space between us holding steady in a way that feels more like a standoff than a conversation.
Then something shifts in his focus, his attention flicking past me toward the entrance of the stall, and I see the exact moment he registers it—the change in his posture subtle but immediate, his shoulders tightening as his gaze sharpens.
He’s not looking at me anymore.
He’s looking at what’s behind me.
I don’t turn, but I feel it anyway.
The atmosphere shifts, quiet but unmistakable, the kind of controlled presence that doesn’t need to announce itself to be felt. Adriano.
When Jasper looks back at me, whatever he’d been about to do changes, replaced by something more measured, more cautious. “This isn’t finished,” he mouths.
I don’t respond.
He studies me for a second longer, then exhales through his nose like he’s shelving something he doesn’t have time for, and steps back.
Not retreating.
Just… disengaging. Making it clear without words that this isn’t over.
A moment later, he turns and disappears into the crowd.
I’m still watching the space he left behind when a hand closes around my elbow.
Firm and controlled, the grip is steady enough I don’t question it for a second.
I welcome the steady feel of his hand on me, as I take in the familiar scent of his cologne.
Adriano steps into place beside me, his body angling instinctively so he shields Letty without drawing attention, his presence settling into the space beside me like it had always meant to occupy it.
“What happened?” he asks, his voice low enough that it doesn’t carry beyond us.
I exhale slowly, turning slightly toward him as I answer. “That was Jasper,” I say, keeping my tone even. “My ex.”
His gaze sharpens almost imperceptibly, something colder settling behind it.
“He’s the one that’s been calling me,” I continue, brushing a hand lightly over Letty’s hair as she focuses on her drink. “I didn’t answer. I thought he’d stop if I ignored him.”
“You thought wrong,” Adriano replies, his voice calm in a way that feels far more deliberate than casual.
I glance back to where Jasper had been standing and fight the shiver of apprehension that rolls down my spine. “I guess so.” Our eyes lock, and something passes between us that I can’t name. A silent promise that I’m safe with him.
Letty glances up at him. “Daddy?”
His attention shifts immediately, his hand coming up to rest at the back of her head, his voice softening without losing its steadiness. “It’s alright, Tesoro.”
She nods, reassured, turning back to her hot chocolate.
Only then does he look at me again. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.
I hold his gaze for a second before answering. “Because it wasn’t your problem.”
Something in his expression stills. “It became my problem the moment he approached you with my daughter present.”
The words hit me harder than I expect. “He didn’t touch her,” I say quietly. “He didn’t speak to her. I would never let him hurt her.”
His expression softens just a touch, hand lifts as if he’s going to caress my face before it drops, his expression clearing. “He upset you. That won’t be tolerated either,” Adriano replies, his tone even, the control in it more unsettling than anger would have been.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
Then he nods once, like he’s reached a decision. “We’re leaving.”
It isn’t a suggestion.
I open my mouth to agree automatically, already shifting to follow, but Letty’s small hand tightens in his coat, her voice soft and uncertain as she looks up at him.
“But… we didn’t skate yet.”
The words aren’t a complaint.
Just quiet disappointment.
Adriano stills, his gaze dropping to her face, something in his expression shifting in a way that’s almost imperceptible unless you’re looking for it. I watch him drop to his haunches so he can speak to her on her level, but she puts her arms out and he lifts her easily, bringing her between us.
I hesitate, then step closer before I can second-guess it. “He’s gone,” I say quietly, keeping my voice low so it doesn’t carry. “And security is already here.”
His attention lifts to me, sharp, assessing.
“We don’t need to leave immediately,” I add, more carefully this time. “Not if it means cutting her day short for something that’s already over.”
For a second, I think I’ve pushed too far.
The air between us tightens, his expression unreadable as he looks at me like he’s weighing something he doesn’t usually have to consider.
Then Letty shifts again in his arms, her fingers curling into his coat. “Please?” she asks softly.
That’s what does it.
Not me.
Her.
Adriano exhales slowly, his gaze dropping back to her, his hand coming up to smooth over her hair in a gesture that feels more instinct than thought.
When he looks back at me, the control is still there.
But something has adjusted.
“We can stay,” he says finally, his tone calm, decisive. “But not for long.”
He relents, just enough to make it seem like his decision all along. Always the litigator.
Relief settles in my chest anyway, so I let him have it. I’m getting my way. If he has to think it was his choice and not his daughter’s, then I’ll let him have it. “That’s fair,” I say quietly.
His gaze holds mine for a second longer, like he’s making sure I understand exactly what that means.
Then he shifts Letty slightly in his arms. “You wanted to skate,” he tells her.
Her entire face lights up instantly. “Yes.”
“Then we skate.”
And there it is—that inconvenient flicker of awareness that makes him harder to dismiss than I’d like.
The way he looks at her, like nothing else matters in that moment, lands somewhere I don’t want to examine too closely.
I shut it down immediately.