The Mafia's Nanny
What if he hurts you again?
But then I looked at him—the way he watched me, the way he never pushed when I hesitated—and I knew.
I wasn’t facing those fears alone anymore.
I reached across the table, letting my fingers brush against his. “I think that can be arranged.”
His smile was slow, real. “Yeah?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
***
We spent the afternoon at the bookstore down the street, because of course Alessio had to prove that he could, in fact, pick a better novel than I could.
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