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I never did things right.
“I am free today Mr Capizzi —”
I silenced her. “Antonio, if you please. We are going to be seeing a lot of each other.” An image of her naked with wild hair riding me rose in my head. I blinked to get rid of it before I continued. “As my daughter’s nanny.”
I rang the intercom. “Armando, can you introduce Miss Praan to Rosa and Cora? I have a few calls to make, and I will be with you shortly.”
I watched her follow Armando to the door. Her butt swayed rhythmically. It was a natural walk, not a fake strut. Still, it pulled at my dick. That entire outfit screamed sex, while I was sure that was not the intention.
I should get laid fast before I jump the nanny.
I waited till the door closed before I made my call to Marco, my right-hand man.
“Are the papers ready?” I asked. The process of legalising most of Cosa Nostra's businesses run on this side of town was long but worthwhile. At the time, we were working on a restaurant run by a fellow Sicilian. The interaction with the Boston PD was key. I listened to Marco’s report and pinpointed the details he had to work on. Before ending the call, I needed Marco to do one more thing for me.
“I need a background check on Divya Praan. Isabella should have already sent over her details. Make this a priority. She has started work today.”
“You’re not going to wait for the info?”
“No need. I expect nothing big to come out.”
“Certo. Anything specific I should look for?”
“A thorough, general check, since she’s going to be in our household in close quarters to my family. Also, find out why exactly she moved to Boston from the UK.”
“Sì. I will get on it.”
“Bene. I am also working from home today. Inform Isabella to hold all my calls except, of course, the Cosa Nostra-related ones.”
“We had a meeting with Massimo fixed for this afternoon.”
“Massimo can wait. It’s nothing urgent. Move it to tomorrow or next week. I need some time here.”
I didn’t pay heed to Marco’s grumbles. There was an urge in me to spend the day with the beautiful nanny.
CHAPTER FIVE
DIVYA
Ifollowed Armando out of the office. My open-toed pumps clicked loudly on the marble floor. I was relieved to be away from Antonio. He was a lot to take in. He made me feel tilted like I had too much wine. I’d even forgotten all the questions I had for him.
The crying of a baby blasted down the hall. As we neared what appeared to be an open-plan kitchen that was the size of my entire apartment, the cries became louder, sucking me in.
The scene in front of me was one of chaos. An older woman with an ample figure was moving around in the kitchen slowly. Her movements were hindered by the baby on her hip. A chubby bundle of madness screaming out her anger and making her curly, blonde hair stand upright.
I had thought Rosa was Mrs Capizzi when he had spoken of her. But it didn’t appear to be the case. Unless Antonio was into older women. Much older women. But something told me he preferred them young and active. At least so he could practice with his Kama Sutra book in his library.
Armando tried to make introductions. He obviously had no experience with babies. If he did, he would know that words were impossible over the sound of a wailing baby.
The woman, obviously Rosa, turned around and released a stream of Italian in his direction with a lot of hand gestures.
I noticed she was trying to get the formula ready, so I stepped into the kitchen. If I wanted this job, I was going to dive right in.
“Can I help?” I asked her.
“Ahh, grazie, Signorina. C’est molto dificulte.” Following her awkward instructions in basic English, I quickly got the formula ready and heated. I dropped a bit of milk on my pulse to check for the right temperature and handed it over to Rosa.
“No. No. You nanny, sì? You try. Prego.” She pushed the baby over to me, right now a bawling, red-faced jumble of arms and legs.
