The Mafia's Nanny
“I mean, it’s like saying, ‘Hey, body, you’re exhausted,’ and your brain just goes, ‘Nah, we’re good,’ and somehow, we just… go with it.”
I pressed my lips together, fighting it.
I really tried.
But then, against my will, a laugh slipped out.
It wasn’t much. Just a quick, breathy sound—barely even a second.
But Matteo caught it.
His head snapped toward me like I had just handed him the winning lottery ticket.
“Oh my god,” he said, eyes wide. “Was that a laugh?”
I immediately schooled my expression. “No.”
His grin stretched wider. “That was definitely a laugh.”
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