The Mafia's Nanny
“Speech therapy is across town. You should get Sophia ready.”
An hour later, I was in the back of a black SUV with tinted windows, Sophia buckled beside me. Marco drove, his eyes constantly moving in the rearview mirror. The therapy clinic was in a bland medical building. Marco walked us to the door of the suite, took a seat in the waiting room, and pulled out a phone.
The therapist, Dr. Evans, was a woman with a gentle smile. “Hello, Sophia. And you must be the new nanny.”
“Bella,” I said.