Chapter 7
DIANA
There are dozens upon dozens of red roses on my father’s closed casket.
We may not have had any family left, and it may have only been the two of us, but there were so many people who loved my father, who came out to pay their respects and say goodbye to him. The tears had dried on my cheeks, the numbness spreading through my chest yet somehow weighing heavily with each flower that is placed on dad’s casket. Mine was the first one on there, now buried beneath the dozens of others, as I stand and watch other people place their own. Cathy stands next to me, her arm looped with mine, a pillar of support as the kitten heels of my black shoes sink into the soft earth of the cemetery.
I’d had to give a eulogy at the funeral, and I’m surprised I had been able to make it through without completely breaking down at the podium. The paper where I’d written my speech is folded in the pocket of my black dress, the ink likely blurred because of the tears that had escaped.
When the casket begins to lower, the air hitches in my throat, and I want to scream. I want to tell them to stop because this can’t be the end. But I stay quiet; I watch as it lowers and lowers until it’s in the ground. It’s a nail in the coffin—quite literally.
The emptiness is suffocating but I know it won’t be going away any time soon. It’s here to stay indefinitely—possibly forever. Dad is gone, and there is no way to get past that. How could I? How the hell do you recover and move on? It seems impossible, and I just don’t think I’m strong enough to do it.
Once the burial is over, people start dispersing. I don’t want to leave my dad, but as my gaze lifts, my eyes catch sight of a man standing in the distance. He’s also dressed like he’s attending the funeral, but I recognize him instantly. He’s the man that had told me to get in the car when for my first meeting with Bruno Cataldi. My jaw presses together. I’m not entirely surprised to see him as he watches me expectantly.
“Hey, uh,” I say, catching Cathy’s attention. I force a smile for my friend, sniffling. “I’ll call you later, okay? I have to get going.”
The concern is prominent in her brown eyes. “Okay,” she says slowly, reluctantly. “If you’re sure.” She gives my arm a squeeze. “Seriously—call if you need anything. I’m here for you, okay?”
I nod. “Thanks, Cathy,” I murmur and give her a hug.
When she walks off, I take a breath and begin making my way toward the man, walking past several plots until I walk down the small slope and I’m standing in front of the man. “Mr. Cataldi sent you?” I ask knowingly.
He nods. “I’m Raf,” he introduces. His gaze flickers over my shoulder before he stiffly says, “I’m sorry for your loss.” I nod, returning a quiet thanks. Raf lifts his chin. “The boss said you told him you wanted to move into the estate today. I’m here to help.”
I had told Bruno that. And, frankly, I’m relieved. I don’t think I can spend another minute in my childhood home by myself, not when my dad’s loss is so prominent within those walls.
I tell Raf that I’m ready to go, and we walk to the parking lot. He gets in his car and I get into mine, and he follows me toward my home. The further I drive from the cemetery, the heavier my heart feels like I’m leaving dad behind. But I just grip the steering wheel tightly and try to even out my breathing, despite the sting that seems to take up permanent residence on the tip of my nose. If I burst into tears right then and there, I wouldn’t be surprised.
We pull up in front of the house soon enough, and my throat tightens. Dad had left me the house in his will, and I’m not completely moving out of it. I just have things that I need to bring over to the Cataldi mansion since I’ll be living there while looking after the kids. Truthfully, I have no idea if I’ll ever sell the house. Living in it, for now, without dad feels too freaking painful. But getting rid of it altogether seems even worse. So, for now, it’ll stay. But it’ll stay empty.
I invite Raf in, and he takes the suitcases that I’ve packed up to the car, while I grab some of my other bags. I don’t want to linger in the different rooms; I don’t want to relive memories of growing up here with dad. If I do that, I’ll never leave.
But as I pass the TV in the living room, my eyes catch sight of a photo frame on the table under the TV, and my heart squeezes tightly. It’s one of when I was about twelve or thirteen, sitting on the countertop of the bakery, legs swinging, with dad standing next to me with a wide grin. I’ve got chocolate frosting all over my own grinning face, enjoying a cupcake, and dad is mid-laughter as he faces me. It’s one of my favorite pictures of him, and my eyes sear as I pick it up and carefully place it in my bag to take it with me to my new home.
*****
The Cataldi estate is probably the biggest house I’ve seen or lived in, in all my years of nannying for rich families. Los Angeles homes are big in a modern way, with large windows and squared-off rooftops. But the Cataldi home is huge and glamorous in an old-fashioned way. It’s Victorian in style, light brown in color with darker shillings for the rooftops. The windows are large, with drapes that are parted to let you peer inside. But there’s also a driveway that seems like it’s a mile long from the entrance gate to the front door, and there’s plenty of security that seems to be stationed around the property.
All of it is very unsurprising, but impressive all the same. Bruno Cataldi may be a criminal, but he’s obviously a very, very wealthy one at that.
Raf helps bring my things inside, just as Gloria turns the corner to greet me. “Oh, you’re here!” she says with a grin. This is only my second time meeting the older woman, but she’s sweet and lovely, and I can see why she’s been working with this family for years. “The twins are down for a nap. So, it gives us plenty of time to go over some things. Would you like to unpack before we get into it?”
I shake my head. “We can start now.” But then I look down at myself. “Um, actually—I think I’d like to change before we do.”
I don’t want to start learning the ropes of my new job wearing the same clothes I wore to my dad’s funeral.
Gloria nods. “Of course,” she says. “Come, I’ll show you to your room.”
I follow her up the stairs, down the same hallway that leads to the twins’ playroom. Raf comes up behind us, easily carrying my two suitcases, and Gloria opens the door to a bedroom. It’s standard, with a queen-sized bed, dressing table, a door leading toward the closet, and windows to let in plenty of light. I’ve got my own bathroom, and there’s a TV mounted on the wall directly opposite my bed.
“Thank you,” I say to Raf after he puts the suitcases down. He merely nods and walks out of the room, his heavy footsteps thudding against the floor as he goes.
“Just meet me down in the living room once you’ve changed,” Gloria tells me with a smile before she also leaves the room, shutting the door behind her.
When I’m alone, I move quickly to change, not wanting to dwell in my thoughts for too long. I open up one of the suitcases and pull out a pair of jeans and a shirt, shimmying out of the dress and heels before putting the new outfit on. I slip into a pair of comfortable flats before pocketing my phone and exiting the room.
I try to recall the way Gloria had led me, and my years of memorizing the layouts of large houses pay off as I easily find the staircase and head down, walking toward the foyer before catching sight of the threshold that opens into the living room. But it’s empty. “Gloria?” I call out.
“In here!” I hear her respond, and I follow the sound of her voice through the living room, and down a short hall before I’m in the kitchen. She throws me a sheepish smile. “Sorry, sweetheart. I thought I’d get some tea going for us as I fill you in.”
I join her at the counter, and Gloria goes into business mode as she pours us each a cup. “I don’t think there’s much I need to tell you, given that you’ve got your own years of experience nannying,” Gloria begins, and I nod as I add some sugar to my mug. She slides over a paper toward me. “This is the twins’ daily schedule. Mr. Cataldi isn’t too strict on their screen time, but he’d prefer it if they spent most of their time doing activities like playing outside or in their playroom, coloring, and now that they’re getting older, beginning to get homeschooled.”
I listen intently to what Gloria tells me. Most of which I already know from past experience, but it’s important to listen to the parents and the nannies of the kids you’re taking over because every family is unique. Gloria informs me of the kids’ likes and dislikes, any dietary restrictions, and how a typical day goes. It’s all pretty standard and, frankly, part of me had been worried that taking care of Monica and Matteo would be different than taking care of any kind from Hollywood since their dad is a legitimate criminal. But it isn’t. Either way, I listen carefully, welcoming the distraction from thinking about my dad too much.
As I listen to Gloria, I find myself hoping and praying that Bruno keeps his word and finds out who killed my dad. A small part of me is hoping that the bakery fire really was just an accident—a horrible, tragic accident. But is there any peace in knowing that my dad is gone because of some faulty electric wire? Would there be any peace in knowing that someone had purposefully killed my father? I doubted it. But at least then I’d have someone to blame. Someone who would surely pay for their actions because they set fire to a building owned by Bruno Cataldi, and I very much doubt that the most feared mob boss would let something like that slide.
The fear he invokes in people is real, and I’m hoping to use it to my advantage. To bring dad’s killer to justice, I sure as hell will.
“Oh, and one last thing,” Gloria says after she wraps up details on the twins. She chuckles slightly and says, “It’s not entirely too important but try to get Mr. Cataldi to drink some water when he comes home at the end of the day.” She clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “That man will be fully dehydrated if I didn’t put a glass of water in his hand whenever he walks through the door. He lives off his cigarettes and Scotch, and that just won’t do.”
Despite the pain that has latched itself onto my heart following dad’s death, I find the corners of my mouth tipping up at Gloria’s words. It’s kind of amusing that the big, bad mob boss needs his nanny to make sure he’s drinking enough water. And that very soon, it’ll be my job to make sure he does. The thought makes my stomach flip, but I push it aside.
Handing him a glass of water is something I can do, but I’m not here for Bruno. I’m here for Monica, Matteo, and my dad. And that’s how it will remain.