Nanny for the Don: Chapter 21

I’m sitting in the living room with Lucia and Giulia, both of them huddled together on the edge of the couch. They’re holding each other’s hands, Giulia whispering, “You’re gonna be okay, Lucia,” over and over, like she’s trying to will it into reality.

Lucia’s still sniffling as Ms. M gently dabs the cut on her head with a damp washcloth, trying to be careful. The wound looks red and swollen, and though it’s not gushing blood anymore, it doesn’t look pretty either. I hand her the antiseptic and she gingerly dabs it on the cut while Lucia squirms and hisses at the burning. sensation.

Ms. M inspects it closely, pursing her lips. “Now that it’s all cleaned out, I think it might actually need a couple stitches,” she says finally, her voice steady..”

I nod, feeling a little more relieved that Ms. M is taking charge. She always seems to know what to do. The girls look at us with wide, anxious eyes, and I do my best to smile.

“Don’t worry, Lu. We’ve got you.”

Ms. M gently guides me to the other side of the room, away from the girls. Lucia’s still sniffling, but Giulia’s doing her best to comfort her.

“There’s a clinic a couple blocks down,” Ms. M says quietly. , her tone is all business. “We can take Lucia there, have them check if she needs stitches.”

I nod, feeling a bit better about the plan. “Yeah, good idea. We’ll just tell Mr. Conti, then head out.”

As soon as I mention Nico, the color seems to drain from Ms. M’s face. It’s quick, and she’s a pro at pulling herself together, but I notice.

“No, no,” she says, almost too quickly. “We’ll tell him later.”

I blink, confused. “Won’t he want to know what happened? I mean, she’s his daughter.”

Ms. M’s expression tightens, and she lowers her voice even more. “We’ll tell him after. He’s never to be disturbed when he brings his work home. He’s made this point very clear. And I have authorization to take the girls in for any medical needs.”

I don’t like this—it doesn’t sit right with me. “I’m not cool with this, Ms. M.,” I say, crossing my arms. “Nico would want to know if something happened to one of his little girls.”

Ms. M’s face sharpens, her usual calm demeanor turning icy. “I know what Mr. Conti would want, Willow. He is not to be disturbed while he’s working.”

I shake my head. , not buying it. “No way. He’d want to know his daughter got hurt. This isn’t something you keep from a parent.”

Ms. M narrows her eyes, clearly not happy with my push back. s. “I appreciate your concern, but Mr. Conti has strict rules. He doesn’t like being interrupted, and for good reason.”

I feel my frustration bubbling over. “This isn’t just a papercut, Ms. M. She has a gash on her head. What if she has a concussion? You don’t think he’ll be mad if we don’t tell him immediately? I’m going to go tell him.”

“Willow, don’t!” Ms. M calls after me.

But I’m already moving quickly down the hall. If Nico’s doing something so important that he can’t be bothered about his own kid’s injury, I want to hear it from him directly.

I make my way to the basement stairs, the darkness swallowing me as I descend. My footsteps echo in the silence. It’s eerily quiet down here, and my gut tightens with unease.

Something on the floor catches my eye and I walk over to get a better look.

Blood.

A dark, wet stain on the cold concrete floor. I gasp, my heart racing, a mix of fear and dread washing over me.. What the hell is going on down here? Suddenly, all the warnings and the fear in Ms. M’s eyes make sense, but it’s too late—I’m already in too deep.

I freeze when I hear a voice. My heart skips a beat, and I pull back into the shadows, trying to make myself as invisible as possible. It’s Sal, and he’s on the phone with someone. His tone is serious, clipped, and even though I can’t make out every word, a few hit me hard.

“Killer,” he says, the word slicing through the silence. Then something about “Mr. Conti getting information out of him.”

My mind races, piecing it together faster than I want to admit. This isn’t just some meeting or business deal. Nico’s down here doing something dark, something dangerous. I’m not supposed to be here, and I know it, but I can’t stop myself from finding out what’s going on.

I spot a door on the other side of the room. Keeping low, I creep over to it, my breath shaky. With a quick glance back at Sal to make sure he’s not looking, I slowly turn the handle and slip through.

The door opens into a sleek, stainless-steel hallway, cold and clinical, like something out of a movie.

Every instinct in me is screaming to turn back, to get the hell out of here before I see something I can’t unsee. I’ve known, on some level, what kind of man Nico is, but now I’m about to find out for real. My feet feel like they’re made of lead, but I keep moving forward anyway, even as my heart races with dread.

In the distance, I can faintly hear Ms. M talking to Sal somewhere behind me, though their words are muffled, indistinct.

It’s now or never.

I force myself to the end of the hallway and push open the door. The sight that greets me makes my stomach lurch.

A man is strapped to a chair, bloodied and battered, looking like he’s been through hell. Nico is standing over him, holding a large surgical instrument against the man’s pinky finger. Blood seeps from a fresh wound, dripping onto the cold floor.

The man’s eyes lock onto mine, and he calls out, desperation thick in his voice. “Help me!” he pleads, his voice raw.

Nico’s head snaps toward the door, and our eyes meet. This isn’t the Nico I know—the caring father, the man I’ve been falling for.

This is someone else entirely, someone terrifying.

I gasp, my breath catching in my throat, and without another thought, I turn and bolt back down the hall and up the stairs, fleeing from the nightmare unfolding behind me.