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    Saving the Nanny
    Saving the Nanny
    Saving the Nanny
    Ebook54 pages44 minutes

    Saving the Nanny

    By Darcy Rose

    2.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Taking this job as a Nanny was my last hope of getting off the streets. Even if my new employer is one of the most feared men in the city.

    Everyone knows his name. Matteo Bianchi. They whisper it in fear. Some even say he is the reason his daughter is without a mother.

    Let's just hope he never finds out that I lied on my application.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBleeding Heart Press
    Release dateDec 21, 2023
    ISBN9798227007285
    Saving the Nanny
    Author

    Darcy Rose

    Darcy Rose is a USA Today bestselling author who writes about shy and innocent heroines, to match them up with dark and intense heroes who have only eyes for one girl. If you like your books short, taboo, dark, and a bit (or a lot) kinky, then her books are perfect for you. For more info, go to www.facebook.com/darcyrosewrites/ or follow her on www.instagram.com/authordarcyrose/.

    Read more from Darcy Rose

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      Book preview

      Saving the Nanny - Darcy Rose

      1

      SARAH

      I’m probably crazy for doing this.

      My palms are sweating. I rub them against my jeans and know somehow, instinctively, that I can’t appear afraid. Even if the man I’m about to meet is supposed to be one of the most violent, brutal, notorious men in the city—maybe the country. I’m well aware. His name is the sort of name you know from hearing it on the news. Whenever there’s a story about the city’s underworld and all the shady, ugly dealings going on there, he somehow comes into it.

      And here I am, applying for a job with him. No, more than that. I’m applying for a live-in position as his daughter’s nanny. His daughter, who I’m sure he loves. His daughter, whose life would be in my hands. And if anything happened to her?

      I can’t think about that right now. Some things are more important. Some situations make the unthinkable become necessary.

      Sarah? A tall, bulky man who looks like he should be playing football sticks his head out of the room and crooks a finger at me. Here goes nothing. I’ve been sitting outside Matteo Bianchi’s office for the past twenty minutes, surrounded by evidence of his money and privilege. Occasionally, a member of his staff hurried past, and every once in a while, I heard him raise his voice behind that heavy oak door. Now, I get to see him face-to-face.

      My legs are shaking, but I somehow push through the fear and force myself to walk through the door into a huge, fancy office full of books and art. The huge windows behind the long, carved desk turn the man sitting behind it into nothing more than a silhouette. A shape. Well? I don’t have all day.

      Neither do I. Yet there I was, waiting for twenty minutes. This is not the sort of man you smart off to—even if I wasn’t afraid he would, like, kill me. I need the job too badly to risk upsetting him. That’s what gives me a burst of speed as I cross the room and stand in front of his desk, absorbing his scrutiny.

      I expected him to be older. A man with this kind of money and power should be older, shouldn’t he? Supposedly, he sits at the top of the local underworld, the boss of bosses. But he can’t be more than thirty, if that. Once I’m able to get a look at him, I find a pair of hard, dark brown eyes staring at me with an intensity that makes my skin erupt in goosebumps. His sharp jaw ticks before those eyes narrow. It says here you’ve got experience with kids, but you look like a kid yourself.

      I’m nineteen, like it says on the application.

      And you’ve been babysitting since…

      Since I was ten. I helped raise my siblings. I’ve rehearsed the story so many times, it’s like second nature. They are eight, ten, and eleven years younger than me.

      He’s unimpressed. So, you, what? Changed diapers, fed them?

      I did everything with them. My mom… she worked two jobs, and after school, it was my responsibility to make sure everybody did their homework and had dinner, got their baths, all of that. On weekends and over holidays, I was with them all day.

      That sounds like a lot of responsibility for a little girl.

      It was. I want more than anything to look away from him. There is an energy radiating from him, cold and fierce. I’m sure he’ll see through me. He’ll see that my story is just that: a made-up fairytale about a family I never had. Not for long, anyway.

      And you think that qualifies you to take care of my little girl? He leans back in the chair, his hands folded over his flat stomach and the charcoal gray suit that covers it. "Because you fed some kids microwave dinners and made sure they got their homework

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