Semua Bab The Mafia's Nanny : Bab 371 - Bab 380

371Dante’s POV My father has always been a man of control. His presence alone could silence a room. His presence always commanded respect.But tonight, sitting across from him in his grand study, sipping whiskey I barely tasted, all I could feel was rage.“I’m only going to say this once,” Lorenzo Russo said, his voice smooth but edged with warning. “Leave the girl alone.”I let out a low chuckle, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. “You always did have a terrible sense of humor, Father.”His jaw ticked. “This isn’t a joke, Dante.”No. It wasn’t.I set my drink down with a soft clink against the polished wood of his desk, leaning back in my chair, utterly unbothered. “Tell me something,” I mused, tilting my head. “Since when do the Russos run from a fight?”My father exhaled, slow and measured. “This isn’t about running. It’s about knowing when a war isn’t worth it.”“Not worth it?” I repeated, amusement dripping from my voice. “You’re telling me that watching the Smiths and Cast

373Allesio’s POV “Again.”Rosa groaned, rolling her shoulders back. “Are you trying to train me or break me?”I smirked. “Both.”She narrowed her eyes. “Romantic.”I stepped closer, tilting my head. “You want sweet words, or do you want to be able to kill a man with your bare hands?”Her lips curved. “Who says I can’t do both?”I huffed a laugh. That was my girl.We stood in the Castillo estate’s private gym, the scent of sweat and leather filling the air. I had stripped off my shirt a while ago, heat burning into my skin, but Rosa looked fresh as ever. A sheen of sweat coated her forehead, but there was a fire in her eyes, determined, dangerous, and drop-dead gorgeous.“Alright,” I said, stretching my arms out. “Show me what you’ve got.”She rolled her shoulders again, cracking her knuckles. “You’re asking for it.”“I hope so.”She moved fast—faster than before.Her fist came flying toward my ribs, but I dodged, twisting my body just in time.“Better,” I admitted.She smirked. “I k

375Rosa’s POV The final days before my wedding should have been filled with excitement, joy, and a healthy amount of wine—not this gnawing unease in my gut that I couldn’t shake.I was trying to be normal. Trying to focus on the dress fittings, the cake tastings, the seating arrangements that made me want to commit murder. But beneath all of it, there was a tension humming under my skin, an itch in the back of my mind that something wasn’t right.And the worst part? I couldn’t pinpoint why.Which is exactly why Emilia and Gianna had dragged me out of the house today with a singular mission—to make me forget.We were currently in a luxurious spa, surrounded by plush robes, rose-scented candles, and an alarming amount of cucumber water. Gianna was already lying on one of the cushioned beds, her arms folded behind her head, looking like a queen surveying her kingdom.Emilia, meanwhile, was glowing—a mixture of post-pregnancy hormones and sheer amusement at watching me attempt to relax.

377Rosa’s POVThe day started with chaos.Not bad chaos—just the kind that came with planning a high-profile wedding between two of the most powerful mafia families.Between the last-minute adjustments to the seating arrangements, double-checking security details, and making sure no one who wasn’t supposed to be there could sneak in, I barely had a moment to breathe.“Why did I think planning a wedding would be fun?” I muttered, rubbing my temples as I glanced over the finalized guest list.Gianna snorted from her place on the couch, where she was sipping what was definitely not coffee. “Because you’re delusional?”Emilia, seated next to her, threw a pillow at her head. “It’s supposed to be fun. You’re marrying the love of your life, Rosa. Stop stressing.”I let out a slow breath, shaking off the tension. She was right. Allesio and I had made it this far. One more day and we’d finally be married.A good day. That was all I wanted.I refused to let anything ruin it. And I stuck to tha

379Rosa’s POVI always thought that when the day of my wedding came, I’d be a mess. The kind of bride who panicked over everything—the flowers, the dress, the vows. The kind who broke down in an ugly cry while her mother frantically patted her back and assured her it would be fine.But as I stood in front of the mirror, surrounded by Emilia and Gianna, watching Francesca twirl in her flower girl dress, I felt… calm.Which was a little suspicious, if I was being honest.“Is it normal to feel this composed?” I asked, tilting my head as I studied myself in the mirror. “I feel like I should be having some sort of existential crisis.”Gianna, who was sprawled across the plush chaise in the bridal suite, smirked. “You? Please. You’d only have a crisis if your dress got ruined.”I narrowed my eyes. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”Emilia snorted as she adjusted Francesca’s flower crown, her expression a mix of amusement and affection. “You’re handling this much better than I did.”Fran