Tell Me To Stop (The Nanny Chronicles #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Maurizio

Isat opposite Bea at the kitchen table, both of us going through our own notes about each candidate we’d interviewed that day.

“So, in reverse order . . . third place . . .”

Bea laughed, leaning back in her chair, giving her small baby bump a gentle stroke.

She was pretty in a girl next door kind of way with long, dark blonde hair and pale blue eyes.

She was funny and an all-round lovely young lady.

I was sure I blushed as I recalled the couple of clumsy passes I’d made at her when Sophie first left me.

Fortunately, she had not laughed, slapped or prosecuted me, or worse, set her boyfriend on me.

She had simply moved on from it and seen them, and me, for what they were, pathetic.

I was better than that now and was focused on being a good dad, the one my kids needed and deserved.

“Third for me was the American girl.” She scanned her notes. “Nova.”

I nodded. “I had her and the Irish lady, Krista, neck and neck.”

“And in first place.”

We both laughed and spoke together, “Flora.”

“I will go and give her a call, and assuming we didn’t scare her off, I’ll invite her back for a meet and greet with Craig and Rosie.”

I got to my feet, heading to my office, leaving Bea to rescue my mother from the children, or was it the other way round and my children needed rescuing from my mother?

From my office, I watch Bea playing some kind of hide and seek game with the children.

Flora had been more than happy to accept the job and was looking forward to getting to know the children but had seemed relieved to know that Bea would be here for the next few months to help her get her head around everything.

It was no surprise to find my mother filling the now open door a split second after a tap against it and the waft of her unique and expensive scent that encapsulated woody amber with a hint of vanilla.

Dark eyes, hinting at her Italian ancestry, assessed me.

Her petite frame was highlighted by the well-cut, black shift dress she wore with her bare tanned legs finishing in her customary heels.

She reached up and gently stroked my cheek. “Are you happy with your choice, Maurizio?”

I smiled down at her concern and the use of my actual name rather than the more English Maurice or Mo I was known by.

“I am. Flora stood out as being the best candidate and will be a good fit here.”

“Like Bea?”

I frowned at my mother’s loaded question. “Mama,” I warned.

She shrugged and waved her arms, batting off the warning. “I meant as the nanny. Bea fitted in seamlessly and the children love her. She even managed to get on with that cagna.”

I laughed and shook my head. My mother’s habit of falling back into Italian when annoyed or overly excited, occasionally brought colour to our lives. Her insults of late were exclusive to Sophie, my soon to be ex-wife.

“She never deserved you and I thought I was being quite restrained in my language. Anyway, so long as you are happy, mio principe.”

Leaning down, I kissed her cheek, grateful for her endless unconditional support, and her love.

I was also relieved that she had at least shortened my childhood pet name to my prince rather than il mio piccolo principe, meaning I was still her prince but no longer little.

That was something both my older siblings, a brother and a sister had teased me for as a child, being the piccolo one, although they were both smaller than me now.

My brother Nico by just a couple of inches and our sister, Nadia, by several more.

“I need to go. I have a date.” She grinned and wiggled her eyebrows, making me laugh and somehow cringe at the same time.

“I do not need to know this, nor the details later, Mama.”

She shrugged. “You could do worse than to dip your toes in the dating pool, Maurizio. You are a very handsome man—”

“Go, have fun, not too much,” I interjected quickly. And then added, even though my insides squirmed, “and please, God, be careful.”

“Ciao, baby.” With another kiss, she sauntered out.

God help her date this evening!

Bea had left about an hour after my mother, leaving me and the children alone.

Once they were bathed and wearing clean pyjamas, we all sat together to watch a movie.

The drawback of girl/boy twins was that they often differed in likes and dislikes, so even something as simple as choosing a movie could be a minefield.

For the most part they’d compromise, like tonight’s choice of Finding Dory.

I’d never seen it. There was so much I hadn’t done or taken part in where my children were concerned.

More than I was comfortable admitting. I did, however, reason that it was because of work.

I worked long hours and I worked hard to provide for my family.

Sophie and I both had, hence the nanny, but now, as a single parent, the need for help was paramount, but so was spending time with my children, sharing experiences, and creating memories for us all.

With thoughts of the help we needed, my mind went back to Flora who had not been like any of the other applicants today.

She was a little older, which hopefully meant she had more life experience, if not more wisdom than her competitors.

She had spoken with a genuine warmth when she’d discussed her role, experience, and love of children.

What more could I ask for? I blocked out the voice in my head that wanted to remind me of her long golden hair, deep blue eyes, and her curvy, hourglass shape.

The children laughed at something happening on the screen and I laughed too, but my amusement was at myself and the naughty thoughts of the new nanny. Wasn’t that normal, though? Single man. Hot nanny. I’m sure women everywhere read that shit in those romance books of theirs.

But this wasn’t the same.

She was off limits, and I needed to keep her that way.

My thoughts needed to be entirely professional, or my mother would get wind of it, and then she would meddle.

Her favourite pastime. She was never happy until I was neck deep in the waters of dating, and this was simply dipping my toes.

I wouldn’t put it past my mother to push me in the deep end. Head first.