14. Matilde
Matilde
The audacity of this man is without bounds. Interrupting my chance to see Maddalena tonight, forcing me to live with him, threatening Primo, putting me in a corner like a misbehaving child?! I have never met a bigger asshole than Nico Morelli.
Yet the charged exchange when I dared to pull the switchblade out left me with countless butterflies in unmentionable places, and his protectiveness when Dante blew into the house like a furious thundercloud stole my breath away. “Don’t be scared, tesoro.”
I can’t quite follow all their rapidly shouted English words beyond it involving some woman in a lake and a secret nest, but the brothers argue until Dante storms back out again, thankfully without any blood spilled.
“Shall we go retrieve your things and the children now?” Nico asks, as calmly as ever.
“Why do this? You did not want me here before.”
“Things have changed. I’d like to discuss your future with you on the drive to my parents’ home, Matilde.”
“My future?” How can I discuss my future with this man when my world still feels so jumbled? “I will think about the future after I finish my diploma,” I hedge.
“Your diploma, yes. You should graduate from high school first. Of course. Christ.”
What did I say to displease him?
He turns, expecting me to follow him. I’m too baffled by the evening’s events to argue at the moment. I’m worried about Maddalena, too. We were supposed to meet for pizza tonight, and she didn’t show up.
In the garage, he gestures at his Mercedes SUV, opening the passenger door for me.
Slipping into the soft leather seat, I wait as he starts the engine, remembering the threat he made about spanking me earlier and squirming in my seat.
I hate how ridiculously turned on I am by his cologne and proximity in the enclosed space.
“There are some rules when it comes to living in my house we should get out of the way on the drive, Matilde.” I stare at him, certain he’ll anger me again. “No interruptions when I’m in my office or having a meeting regarding the Trio.”
“That’s it?”
“And you’re not to go anywhere without my permission.”
“I am prisoner?”
“No, you’re the nanny.”
***
Hours later, I’m installed in yet another new room, right down the hall from the children’s nursery and Nico’s bedroom.
It’s airy and pleasant with soft coral bedding, bamboo furniture and my own private bath in pale blue marble.
It’s far nicer than I would’ve pictured for a nanny’s quarters.
As he doesn’t have any other live-in staff, I don’t have anything to compare it to.
I finish unpacking, blushing when I pull out his t-shirt.
Nico had stood over me until every last item was packed at his parents’ house, like I was some criminal to be watched while Zeta’s worried voice floated in the background.
He’d calmed his mother with words about safety precautions, but it feels more like a punishment to me.
Once he had his children in his arms, he’d ordered me to follow him back to the car. I’d wanted to refuse, but it would only have distressed Zeta further if I had. He probably would’ve carried me like a sack of flour again anyway.
Or turned me over his knee.
Flushed and flustered by that thought, I glare at the unfamiliar ceiling.
I should curse Nico’s bones until they are dust. Instead, my hand slides down my body, creeping into my panties.
The merest brush of my fingers, and my stepmother’s scolding voice in my head stops me cold.
I snatch my hand away again, both angry and ashamed.
Before long, a low, persistent noise draws my attention. Maybe one of the children. Climbing out of bed, I pad down the hallway to their room. The double doors of Nico’s bedroom stand open. Oh Dio. He’s awake. I don’t want to see him.
But I do.
He’s already in the nursery. “Lucia, la mia bambina, fai la nanna.” My heart speeds up at his rumbled words, rising and falling in a soothing pattern, like a song, the song of a sleep-deprived father imploring his little one to rest.
And that isn’t all that makes my pulse pound.
I strangle a breathy gasp, seeing so much of his muscular body for the first time.
He tries hiding it under those three-piece suits, but I knew he must be fit.
He’s wearing black pajama bottoms that hang enticingly low on his narrow hips.
The material clings to his backside enough to tell me my employer, the asshole, has a nice ass.
He’s not wearing a shirt. Those broad shoulders, his powerful biceps and back muscles, I’m mesmerized by the way they flex when he rocks the baby in his arms, shifting from foot to foot, humming a lullaby in between soft entreaties for her to go back to sleep.
His body bears many scars. It looks like a bullet was dug out of his left shoulder blade at some point. There’s another one, a curved slash above his right kidney. A half dozen others from various violence. But it does nothing to turn me off. My mouth is watering. Snap out of it! I chide myself.
“I could take her,” I offer, meaning to announce my presence.
Fast as a cat, he whirls around and retrieves his scary knife from the changing table, wielding it with his right hand as his left arm cradles the baby.
I quickly raise my palms, and the murderous tension in his face eases as he puts the knife back down.
His eyes glide down to the t-shirt, causing heat to shoot all through my face.
I had a blanket covering it the night he caught me hiding in the bedroom closet but maybe he won't remember giving it to me in the first place.
“You’re wearing my shirt.”
Merda. “I will give it back.”
Something predatory flashes in his eyes. “No, it looks better on you by far. Keep wearing it.” The heat in my face travels downward, settling between my thighs at his enticing order.
“May I help with Lucia?”
“No, I have her.”
"Then why make me live here? You said no going places without permission. You said earlier school, your house, your parents’ house, but can I go to other places?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“What happened to me is not an excuse for you to lock me up.”
“I’m not locking you up, but you will heed my rules, and I warn you not to disobey me again, Matilde."
"But-"
"No, buts. It's late, and I don't want an argument. I must keep you and my children safe. Whether or not you believe me capable of that.”
He misinterpreted my words in the limo earlier, thinking I was referring to him not protecting his wife when she was shot instead of his role in my mother’s death. I probably shouldn’t, but I feel bad for that.
“I know we are safe when you are here. Why don’t you let me take over so you can rest?”
He holds Lucia a little closer and nods at Amadeo in his crib. “They are mine, my responsibility. Go to bed.”
Oh Dio, this man! “Very well… sir.”
I can’t even take any satisfaction in his frown as I go. The rejection and his restrictions have my resentment festering. He’s making it a hundred times harder for me to see my sister, yet he still doesn’t trust me to soothe his children at night.
After flopping on the bed with an angry shriek, I’m determined to figure out a way to see Maddalena, to hell with his rules. I will never endanger the children, but he can’t follow me around all the time, and I refuse to miss the opportunity to connect with the only family I have left.