His entire face lights up. "Yes! T-Rex ones!"
"I'll practice my T-Rex shape tonight," she promises with a laugh that makes something warm unfurl in my chest.
At the door, she turns to face me one last time. "Thank you for this opportunity, Raphael. I won't let you down."
As I close the door behind her, I can't shake the feeling that I've just made either the best decision or the worst mistake of my life. One thing's certain: Annie Harper is nothing like what I expected.
And that makes her dangerous in ways that have nothing to do with my work for Dante.
"Daddy, I like her," Marco announces, hugging my leg. "She smells like cookies."
I ruffle his hair, pushing away thoughts about how Annie smelled, like vanilla and something floral, or how those curves would feel under my hands, or how her lips would taste if I—
"Yeah, buddy," I say, cutting off that train of thought. "I think she'll be good for us."
Good for Marco, at least. As for me... well, I've never been one to deny myself what I want, but Annie Harper is definitely in the category of things I can look at but can't touch. She's too young, too innocent, too necessary for Marco's stability.
Tomorrow morning can't come fast enough. And that's exactly what worries me.
Chapter 2 - Annie
My hands shake as I grip the steering wheel of my beat-up Honda Civic. I just interviewed with the most intimidating man I've ever met, and somehow, miraculously, got the job.
Raphael Conti. Even his name sounds dangerous.
When the nanny agency called with an "urgent placement opportunity" for a "special client," I expected a celebrity or maybe a divorced executive with boundary issues. Not a walking fantasy with eyes that could strip you bare and a body that belongs on the cover of a romance novel.
"Get it together, Annie," I mutter to myself as I navigate through the upscale neighborhood. His house is modest compared to some of the mansions on the street, but still far nicer than anywhere I've ever lived. "He's just a single dad who needs help with his son."
A single dad who stands at least 6'6", with shoulders that fill doorframes and tattoos creeping up muscular forearms. A single dad whose eyes darken when he's assessing whether you're a threat. A single dad who clearly does something dangerous for a living.
I pull over at a coffee shop a few blocks away, needing a moment to collect myself before driving home. The air conditioning hits my flushed face as I step inside.
"Just breathe," I whisper, joining the short line.
I need to be professional about this. Marco is adorable and clearly needs stability. Raphael, whatever he does for work, obviously cares deeply for his son. That's all that matters.
But as I order my iced coffee, I can't stop thinking about the way Raphael looked at me when he thought I wasn't noticing. Like he was hungry. Like I was something he wanted to devour.
No man has ever looked at me that way before. Most either see my curves and make crude comments or dismiss me entirely as too young, too naive. Raphael looked at me like a man who knows exactly what he wants but has decided he can't have it.
The barista calls my name, breaking my reverie. As I take my drink and head back to my car, my phone rings. It's Mom.
"How did it go, honey?" Her voice is tired but hopeful. Since Dad died, she's been working double shifts at the hospital, and I know she feels guilty that I'm working instead of just focusing on school.
"I got it," I tell her, unable to keep the excitement from my voice. "It pays really well, Mom. Like, really well. I can cut back on my weekend waitressing hours."
"That's wonderful! Tell me about the family."
I slide into my car, considering how much to share. "Single dad, one little boy who's five. The dad has... unusual work hours, which is why the pay is so good."
"What kind of work does he do?" Mom asks, always perceptive.
"He didn't say, and the agency made it clear that part of the job is not asking questions." I chew my lip. "But Mom, the little boy is so sweet. And they really need help."
There's a pause on the line. "Annie, be careful. That sounds..."
"Like Dad's work, I know." My father's undercover operations shaped my childhood. The secrecy, the unexplained absences, the nights wondering if he'd come home. "I can handle it."
