I should have slept like a princess in this uber-comfortable bed in this beautiful bedroom fit for royalty, but of course, I was awake half the night tossing and turning as my brain refused to switch off and give me a minute’s peace. The strain involved in wearing a façade is more stressful than I thought. I’m having to think on my feet, and it feels like I’m a double agent, which I suppose I am. Guilt is a permanent weight on my shoulders, and I suspect that’s only going to get worse.
When my alarm goes off, I feel like crying, but I peel the comforter back and swing my legs out the side of the bed. Can’t be late on my first official day as Elio’s nanny. My little charge is an early riser, and I predict a lot of early nights in my future. Except heading to bed before nine p.m. is not exactly conducive to seducing my boss. I probably should’ve stayed up with Cristian last night. Maybe watched some TV and opened conversation, but I was exhausted, and I wanted to retreat and mull over everything I learned.
Pablo won’t be pleased I have a full-time security detail, but if it means Diego and Alvaro can’t easily get to me, then it’s a win. I’ve no doubt they’ll be following me everywhere I go, like I’ve no doubt they’re somewhere close by now, staking out the building, but them not having access to me is a relief.
When Cristian asked me about a boyfriend, it was on the tip of my tongue to say no. Pablo wants me to make it clear I’m single so there are no obstacles in my boss’s path if he makes a move. But Pablo has also demanded I keep his goons updated weekly, and my permanent shadow may not be a full deterrent. Should Diego or Alvaro find a way to ambush me, I can always claim they are someone I’m casually dating.
I wish there was a way of eradicating all contact with Pablo, but I know that’s an impossibility. Just as the thought lands in my mind, my cell vibrates with a new message. Considering this is a cartel phone and the only people who know the number are Pablo and his henchmen, I can guess who the message is from and what it contains. I squeeze my eyes shut for a few seconds before I summon the courage to open it. It’s from the Sinaloa boss, as I thought. A video message, of course. Because nothing drills the point home harder than watching him abuse my mother on film.
Mom wears the same dazed, drugged-up expression on her face that always kills me. She’s tied to the bed, naked, her skinny frame littered with scars, some older, some fresh. The asshole hammers between her thighs while glancing back to whomever is filming the sick scene. “A reminder, my little American Barbie.” He drives into her with brutality, and nausea swims up my throat. “Every time you fail me, you fail your mother.” The man holding the camera moves forward. One hand reaches out and gropes Mom’s breast.
Bile coats my tongue, and anger replaces the blood flowing through my veins. I want to hack his hand from his arm so he can’t ever touch her again. I want to kill them all—every male in that compound who has touched her, hurt her.
“I have a long list of associates waiting for their turn with my American whore,” Pablo pants, dragging me away from my murderous inner monologue. I’m forced to look at his gross, sweaty face as he pumps into my mother. She’s barely coherent underneath him, and I’m glad she’s zoned out. How much more of this can she take? Acid churns in my gut as I rub my stomach while my heart splinters behind my rib cage. “I want intel before Sunday. Don’t disappoint me, Sloane. You know what’ll happen if you do.”
The video cuts out, and I delete it as I’ve been instructed. I’m guessing they have access and can tell if I disobey. I’m terrified to do anything in case they find out and Mom ends up paying the price. My instructions were to keep the phone with me always because it has a location tracker installed, but I’m to keep it permanently on silent and ensure no one knows I have it, especially my new boss.
I’m sick to my stomach as I slowly climb to my feet, my limbs so heavy I feel ancient.
Resting my head against the tile wall in the shower, I let the warm water cascade over my head and down my back while I contemplate how the hell I’m going to get intel that fast. Cristian has cameras all over this penthouse, which means I can’t do any fucking snooping. I can’t even detect the cameras to see if I could dismantle them, but who am I kidding? I’m a drama major, not a tech major. I have no clue how to deactivate and reactivate a camera without getting caught.
Silent tears mix with the water as it rolls down my face. This already seems like an impossible task. Cristian DiPietro is like the Jason Fucking Bourne of the mafia, and I am no match for his experience or his skill.
Slumping to the floor, I pull my knees into my chest and release the pent-up emotion that’s been bottled up for months. Sobs wrack my skinny frame, and I stuff my fist in my mouth to stifle them. The last thing I need is my boss barging in here wondering what’s wrong.
I cry for a little while longer before I shove my pain back inside and get a grip. I’m resourceful by nature, and I’ve survived this far against all odds. I’m not going to adopt a defeatist attitude before I’ve even tried. This might seem impossible, but I’ll find a way. I’ve got to because my mother is depending on me, and I can’t let her down.
“These are for you,” Cristian says, entering the kitchen as I’m cleaning up after breakfast. Isa was already here when I came out of my room, and she wasted no time laying down the law. As soon as Cristian left the table, she demanded I tidy up while she took Elio to clean up and get dressed. My boss sets a brand-new cell phone and tablet on the island unit.
“Wow, that was quick.” I try not to ogle him, but it’s hard because he looks sexy as sin in a black shirt and black pants. He’s not wearing a tie, and the top few buttons are open, showcasing a hint of tanned, inked skin.
“My team is very efficient.” He points to the number on the outside of the cell phone box. “I’ve added your number and sent you a text with all my contact details. I included the Wi-Fi logins too.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m working from home today,” he explains, brushing past me on his way to the scary-looking coffee machine that seems like it belongs in a top-notch coffee shop.
My nose twitches as his cologne wafts around me. It smells expensive and all man, but I’m not surprised. Cristian is an alpha male to his core, from his good looks to his custom-fit clothing and the expensive watch on his wrist I’m betting cost a small fortune. Seducing a man like him will not be easy, and I’ve got to up my A-game.
“But I’ve got a few back-to-back calls, so I’ll be busy until lunch. Isa will show you the ropes this morning.”
More like tie one around my neck if she got the chance. “She’s been great,” I lie as he fixes his coffee like a seasoned barista. “I’ll be fine, and we’ll take good care of your son. Don’t worry about anything, sir.” I deliberately use the endearment because I’ve seen how he reacts to it. It’s subtle, but his eyes always flare with heat for a split second whenever I say it. I lick my lips, and his eyes lower to the movement. “Have a great day, and we’ll see you later.”
His gaze remains on my mouth for a beat longer before he lifts his eyes to meet mine. Tension bleeds into the air, but it’s not the negative kind. The same crackling energy that sparked between us last night in the living room flexes and writhes in the gap separating our bodies, and I hope I’m not the only one feeling it.
“Disturb me if you need to,” he says in a gruff tone before taking his delectable self and his aromatic coffee out of the room.
I sag against the counter, smoothing a hand over my racing heart. I’m grateful I don’t have to seduce some overweight, ugly-ass, middle-aged man, but being so attracted to Cristian presents different problems. I can’t afford to like him, want him, or care for him because that’ll complicate an already complicated situation.
“If you took this job to seduce your boss, you might as well quit now,” Isa says in her aggravating nasally tone.
I wonder how long she was listening and watching. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I calmly reply, holding my head high. “I took this job because Elio is an adorable kid, and the deal was sweet. Like you said, I need more experience, and this is a dream job.”
Folding her arms across her chest, she scoffs. “I’m not buying it.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Isa. I have no ulterior motives.” I look her straight in the eye as I lie to her face.
“It’s Isotta to you,” she snaps, putting herself all up in my face. “Only my family and friends call me Isa, and you’re neither.”
I grind my teeth to the molars before plastering a fake smile on my face. “I meant no offense, Isotta, ma’am. Apologies.”
Bitch.
Her mouth pulls into a hard line as her gaze sidles to the packages on the counter. “What is this?” She leans down, examining the items with a building scowl.
“Cristian organized a cell phone and tablet for me.”
She rakes her furious gaze over me. “So, this is your game, huh? Act like the diplomat didn’t pay you handsomely. Play the poor, needy nanny part to perfection and get Mr. DiPietro to buy you things. You’re nothing but a—”
“Where is Elio?” I ask, frowning as I look behind her and don’t see my little prince.
“He’s in the playroom drawing.” She waggles her finger in my face. “If you memorized his schedule, you’d know it’s art time this morning, and don’t try to distract me from—”
“I memorized it.” I cut across her again. “I’m just surprised he’s been left alone in there. He should be supervised at all times.” I examined the storage and supply cupboards last night, and there are scissors, glitter, glue guns, Play-Doh, and other small craft items a little kid could choke on or hurt themselves with.
I move on autopilot, striding around her with purpose.
“He’s sitting in a chair drawing,” she hisses, following hot on my heels. “He can’t come to any harm.”
I stalk down the hallway, past Cristian’s sealed office door, the home gym, and the old-school library, to the large playroom with the wide window overlooking CP in the near distance. Elio is muttering to himself as he sits at a double-sided desk in the middle of the space, drawing a picture with a multitude of colored pencils spread out around him.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I spot the locked cupboard doors. It’s possible I overreacted, but taking care of Elio is my responsibility now. I don’t like Isa, and I don’t know her. Would she resort to putting the child in danger to get me fired? Because I’m beginning to think that’s her goal.
