Scrubbing my hands down my face, I sigh heavily while Isa escorts the last candidate to the door. Swiveling in my chair, I turn to face the large window in my spacious office at DiPietro Freight Management & Logistics. The stunning views of the waterfront from one window and the sprawling uptown from the other are things I love about my office. As I stare at the gently rolling water, my frustration recedes a little. I know Isa is doing her best, but she strayed too far from the brief, and I’m annoyed at the time she’s wasted. She’s finishing up in a month, which means we’re running out of time to find a replacement.
I turn around when I hear footsteps approaching in the hallway outside, my gaze snagging on the framed photo on my desk. Gia took it last year at Chiara’s and Niccolo’s joint second-birthday party. My smile is instant. Elio’s twinkling green eyes and mischievous smile send a flood of warmth through my body. I can’t believe he’s four now. Time is moving way too fast, and I want to slow it down, to imprint every precious moment with my son in my heart so I never forget how special these early years have been.
“I think she’s the winner,” Isa says, reentering my office with a wide smile and a confident swagger.
“Close the door.” I sit straighter in my chair, preparing to battle with Elio’s biological aunt.
Her smile doesn’t falter as she sinks into the chair across from me. “Regina has the best qualifications and the most experience, and she has a calmness I love.”
“I don’t disagree with that assessment. She’s a lovely woman, but she’s sixty-two, Isa.”
Her eyes narrow. “Her age shouldn’t matter, Cristian.”
“In theory, no. But practically, it does. You have taken care of Elio for the past three years. You know he’s high-spirited and super active. I need a nanny who is young and energetic to keep up with him. I need someone who doesn’t have other outside commitments yet, someone who can devote their time solely to Elio. All these women we interviewed today are wonderful, but they do not fit the brief I gave you.” I should’ve screened the candidates myself, but life has been hectic recently with the expansion I’m overseeing here at my family business and attending to my mafioso responsibilities. When my current nanny offered to help find her replacement, I didn’t hesitate to accept the offer, but now I’m regretting it. “I’m looking for a mother figure for my son, Isa. Not a grandmother figure.”
Her lips pinch, and her eyes narrow. “That is so discriminatory, Cristian. I thought better of you, and I really think you need to reconsider your position.”
God, grant me patience. Isa has been a godsend with my son, but she has tested my patience on more than one occasion. I love that a relative was taking care of Elio while I had to work, but Isa pushed those boundaries any chance she got, and her interfering ways have caused many arguments between us.
Things were tense at first when I adopted Cruz and Bettina’s son in the aftermath of my brother’s demise because the Da Rosa family wanted to adopt him, and they weren’t happy I planned to raise him as a single parent. Not that the single parent part was by choice. Back then, I had hopes of proposing to my girlfriend, believing her to be the one. But Aliya showed her true colors after I brought Elio to live with us, walking out on me, on him, only two months later, just as I’d been about to propose.
It’s been a familiar pattern since then, which is why I have now given up on dating. It’s easy to find a woman to fuck when I need to let off some steam, and I’ve been darkening the doors of Club H far more regularly these past two years. I’m done with women bailing on me because they don’t want to raise another couple’s son.
I don’t see it like that.
Elio is mine.
We share blood, and I’m the only parent he’ll ever know. It’d be nice if he had a mother too, but that wasn’t meant to be. Which is why finding the right nanny is so important. A young nanny will have the energy to keep up with my little boy and hopefully will stick around through the formative years before they settle down and start their own family.
Maybe I am being ageist, but I won’t apologize for putting my son first. I know what he needs, and Isotta Da Rosa does not get to overrule me, no matter how much I appreciate all the love and care she’s shown Elio. She’s getting married soon, and I’m sure a family of her own is in the cards. While I don’t think Isa will fully abandon Elio, he won’t be her priority for much longer. “With the greatest respect, Isa, I know what my son wants and needs, and none of those women are suitable. Kindly thank them and advise them they have not been successful.”
“You’re making a mistake, Cristian. A young nanny will be more concerned with partying and having fun, and Elio will just be a job to them.”
“Now who’s being discriminatory?” I arch a brow and drum my fingers on the armrest of my chair.
“You know I’m right. You’re simply too stubborn to admit it.”
“Pot, kettle, black, Isotta. Does your husband-to-be know about your legendary stubbornness?”
“Carmine is well aware of what he’s getting.” She worries her lower lip between her teeth. “Maybe I’ll talk to him again. See if he’ll reconsider letting me stay on.”
I bite back a retort. I’ve made my feelings known about her arranged marriage to a man thirty years older than her. Arranged marriages continue to be tradition in La Cosa Nostra, but they are no longer officially sanctioned or controlled. The Commission, the governing body for all Italian American mafioso in the US, has changed many of the old ways, granting greater freedoms and flexibility, especially when it comes to women. Rather than dictating how things should be, we leave a lot up to individual families to decide.
Much of the older generation is still stuck in the old ways and traditions. The Da Rosa patriarch being one. His three older daughters were all married off to men of his choosing. I don’t know what his view was on Bettina. It was widely known among the mafioso in New York that she was Cruz’s mistress, and she’d borne him a child outside his marriage. Rafaelo Da Rosa hadn’t denounced his second-youngest daughter, but I doubt he condoned it either. Anyway, it’s no surprise he lined up a marriage contract for his youngest daughter. I’m just surprised Isa agreed to it.
“Don’t stir trouble on my account,” I say. “I still have a month to find a suitable replacement.”
“I don’t want to leave him. Or you.”
“I’m grateful for all you’ve done, but you’ve got your own life to lead, and it’s not like we’ll be strangers. We’ll still see you.”
“I know.” Her lower lip wobbles. “I just love Elio so much. He’s more like my son than my nephew. I will miss his cute little face and the way he digs his toes into my leg when he’s all snuggled up against me on the couch.”
“He will miss you too, but we’ll adjust. I won’t stand in the way of your happiness.”
Her face contorts, but she disguises it fast.
I lean across the desk. “You don’t have to marry him if it’s not what you want,” I softly remind her. We had this conversation previously, but maybe it’s worth repeating now that she’s only one month from her wedding day.
“I can’t bring shame to my family by backing out now.” She knots her hands on her lap.
“I wouldn’t let that happen.”
Steely-blue eyes stare at me. “I know you’re a powerful man, Cristian, one of The Five and on the board of The Commission, but even you can’t promise that. Papa is old school. He expects me to trust he’s making the best decision for me, and I need to respect his choice.”
By marrying a woman of twenty-eight to a guy in his fifties? Not fucking likely. I keep those thoughts to myself though because I already know verbalizing them won’t get me anywhere. Isa is Daddy’s little princess, and she trips over backward to please him. It’s been frustrating to witness.
Rafaelo Da Rosa doesn’t hold me in high regard, and a part of me doesn’t blame him. My elder brother treated his other daughter like trash. Bettina loved Cruz, but he used her as a surrogate, murdering her in broad daylight after she’d delivered his son and heir. I understand why the DiPietro name is mud in the Da Rosa household, like I understand why they didn’t want Elio to come live with me. But they should know by now I’m nothing like my dead brother. I abhorred the things he did, and I could never treat people as carelessly as he did, so their continuing to bear a grudge is petty and frustrating.
“What about your choice? Why don’t you get a say?” I ask.
“I have always known this is the way it would be. Father made this arrangement with Carmine when his wife’s diagnosis was confirmed. No one expected her to battle bone cancer as long as she did, so I guess I can count myself lucky I had years of freedom before my duty kicked in. I’ve been luckier than most.”
“I still don’t think it’s right, but I see your mind is made up.”
“There is nothing to decide, Cristian. What’s done is done.”
“You know where I am if you ever change your mind.”
“I appreciate that, and I’m grateful you care. Elio is lucky to have you as a dad.”
“I’m lucky to have him as my son, and I won’t fail him.” I push back my chair and stand. “I know the kind of nanny he needs. I want to see the rest of the applications.” I slip my jacket off the back of the chair and pull it on. “Please email me the files so I can review them at home tonight.”
