Nanny’s Baby for the Italian Mafia Boss: A Dark Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Possessive Mafia Kings Book 3)
Nanny’s Baby for the Italian Mafia Boss: Chapter 12

Three movies later, two bags of popcorn, and an empty bowl of Skittles, Ella is asleep.

I tuck her hair behind her ear. She’s so cute. If I didn’t know she was adopted, I would think Matias was her real father. They look alike.

I tuck her under a blanket and clean up, deciding to do some cleaning of the entire house. Mopping the floors, doing laundry, and I’m in the middle of seeing what we have for me to make dinner when I hear the front door open.

I hear a groan, spinning around, I see Matias holding onto Gianni, blood dripping down his arm.

“Matias! What happened?” I screech, then remember not to wake Ella. “We have to go to your room, so we don’t wake Ella. She’s in the living room asleep.”

He nods, groaning when Gianni adjusts his hold around his waist. “Damn it. That hurts,” he grumbles.

I dip under his other arm to take some of his weight from Gianni. The righthand man groans in relief, and that’s when I notice he is injured too.

“What’s happened, Gianni?” We hobble to the bedroom the best we can, a trail of blood dripping onto the floor.

“We were at the docks, waiting for a shipment,” he begins to explain.

A shipment. Of what? I’m not sure if I truly want to know. I think I prefer vague terminology.

“Only, it wasn’t our boat that was waiting for us. It was another. We don’t know who it was, but we managed to kill five men on our own, but not without Matias catching a bullet in his shoulder, and I got stabbed in my side.”

“Oh my god, Gianni. I can’t believe you guys went there without backup.”

“We killed everybody. It’s fine,” Matias grunts when I push open the door.

I roll my eyes, losing my grip on him because, holy hell, the man is heavy. “I don’t know if I can hold you up much longer. I’m losing my grip.”

“We’re almost there. Don’t let go,” Gianni says, pushing the bedroom door open.

My knees buckle and Matias stumbles forward. Gianni manages to drag him to the red velvet bench at the bottom of the bed. Matias groans in pain, holding a hand to his shoulder, then lies down on his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“We need to get this shirt off. I only know basic first aid; you need a damn doctor.” I unbutton his shirt, my heart racing at the site of all the blood.

He snags my wrist to stop me. “No doctor. You can do this. The first aid kit is under the sink, and it has everything you need. Do you know how to sew?”

“Yes. I know how to sew.” I try not to sound offended, but come on, I’m a nanny. I have to know how, just in case stuffed animals need an emergency repair.

“It’s just like that. Fuck!” he curses when I lift him to take his shirt off.

“It isn’t just like that. This is skin. Not fabric.”

“You’ll be fine. No hospitals, Sophie. No one can know about this.”

I nod, doing my best not to show how much I’m shaking. I don’t want him to see the doubt currently taking over my body.

A crash sounds from behind me and I spin, noticing Gianni doubled over and hanging onto the dresser to keep himself standing. He’s pale. He doesn’t look good. He falls to his knees and I run to him, gently holding the back of his head to lie him on the floor.

“Oh my god, Gianni. You look terrible.”

He attempts a chuckle, wincing from the pain. “I’ve had worse. It’s not a big deal.”

“Deal with him first, Sophie.”

I whip my head to Matias, stand, snag to pillows from the bed, and try to make the men more comfortable. “But you’re shot. You need the bullet removed from your shoulder,” I explain, my stomach turning the longer I look at the wound.

“My wound isn’t life-threatening. His might be. He was stabbed in the abdomen. Also, in my office, I have antibiotics for us. You don’t need to worry, Sophie. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

I scoff. “Yeah, you would,” I grumble, then sit down next to Gianni. I rip his shirt open, not wasting time unbuttoning the damn thing. It’s ruined anyway.

“If you wanted me naked—”

“—Don’t even finish that sentence, Gianni,” Matias seethes.

Gianni gives a weak smile, sweat beading across his forehead. “I’m just kidding. I wanted to joke… keeping me conscious.”

I frown, staring at the wound on his side. Blood is slowly trickling out and onto the floor. The wound itself isn’t too large, but it looks deep. “Gianni, I don’t know if I can fix this. You need a doctor, possibly a blood transfusion.”

“We have blood here.”

I try not to get annoyed with Matias. “If you have everything a hospital has, why won’t you call one? Or hire one? This is insane. I have no idea what I’m doing, Matias.”

“I don’t have too much time, Sophie. Listen to me.” He swallows. “Go to the fireplace, turn it on, and heat something metal. Come back, and press it against my wound.”

“What! No, no way! That won’t fix it. That will be… that will be disgusting.”

“Yes, it will be, but it will help. Go.”

I lick my dry lips, already feeling queasy. “Okay. Okay. Um—” I stand, running my fingers through my hair, looking back and forth to both bleeding men. “Okay, I’m going. I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

They both laugh, then groan.

I wince from the thoughtless statement. “Sorry. You know what I mean.” I dash out of the room, stepping into the blood drops on the floor. I don’t have time to do anything about it. My heart won’t stop pounding, my palms are sweating, and all I can think about is how red the floor was under Gianni.

What if I kill him and Matias?

When I get to the kitchen, I snag a knife from the butcher block, open the cabinet full of alcohol, then douse the blade in scotch.

“Fuck it.” I bring the bottle to my lips, taking a long swig of the most disgusting alcohol I’ve ever tasted, but I need to buzz. I do it again for good measure, then turn on the stove instead of the fireplace, so I don’t wake Ella.

The gas ignites. I turn the knob to high to get the fire as hot as possible, then shove the blade in the flame. “This is going to be so bad. This is going to be terrible. Oh my god, what am I doing?” I mutter to myself, the silver heating until it’s black.

I flip the stove off, then sprint down the hall again, doing my best to not step in the blood trail. I stop short when I get to the room.

Gianni isn’t moving.

I fly to his side, shaking him. “Gianni? Gianni, open your eyes. Come on.” My eyes begin to burn, but finally he groans.

“This is going to suck. Here.” I open his mouth and pour—I don’t know how much—scotch into his mouth.

Then, I pour it over the wound and press the side of the knife onto his wound. The flesh sizzles and Gianni shouts in agony.

“Fuck!”

The smell of his skin burning has me nauseous. I turn my head away, flipping the blade to the other side.

“Son of a bitch! Fuck you, Matias.”

“Fuck you, Gianni!”

“Be nice to each other. You’re probably the only reason the other is alive to begin with.” I pull the knife away, holding in a gag when I see the burnt, puckered skin.

On the bright side, it isn’t bleeding.

“How are you feeling?” I whisper to him, pushing his hair out of his face.

“Like I got stabbed and then burnt,” he smirks, exhaustion riddled in his face. “Thank you.”

“I still think you need a doctor.”

“I’ll get one. Stitch me up first.”

Right. Matias needs stitches.

Opening the cabinets in the bathroom, I grab the first-aid kit, and drop it on the bed. “You’re going to be sorry you trusted me to do this.”

“Probably,” Matias smiles, looking so different and vulnerable than he did when he fucked me ruthlessly.

I smile. “Good. I’m glad you know that.” I pour the scotch over his bullet wound, then give him the bottle.

He grits his teeth together. “Warn a guy next time.”

“Sorry,” I mumble, flipping open the first aid kit.

I rummage through the kit, snagging some antibiotic ointment and gauze. “I’m going to put this on Gianni. I’ll be right back.” I don’t know what comes over me, but I bend down and kiss his forehead, tasting the warmth and sweat of his pain. Before I question my actions, I bandage Gianni, then go to Matias again.

“He’s passed out.”

“It isn’t his first time being stabbed. It won’t be his last.”

“That isn’t reassuring. Will I be doing this more than once? Warn a girl.” I clean the wound first, then grab the needle and sutures. This is nothing like a thread. It’s much thicker.

“I think I prefer to keep you on your toes.”

I can’t help but smile while I get the needle ready. “This is going to be some really shoddy work. You can’t be mad at me.”

“Never,” he scoffs. “I’m impressed you haven’t run out the door.”

“Yet,” I add on.

“Never.”

I lift my eyes to his, catching his serious gaze. “Well,” I change the subject. “I have to get the bullet out, right?”

He shakes his head. “No. It’s a through and through. Just stitch me up.”

I nod, looking away and pinching my eyes shut while I push the needle through his skin.

“I’d like it if you looked while you did this,” he groans.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“You have to.”

“Nope.”

“Yes.”

I swallow, knowing he is right. “Fine.” It takes me awhile to sew the front wound, then the back, but eventually, I make it happen.

“There. Like brand new-ish.”

He snorts, then sighs. “Thank you.”

“I’ll go get the pain medicine and everything else from your office.” I go to stand, and he snags my wrist, stopping me.

“Kiss me before you go.”

My cheeks heat. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We crossed a line we shouldn’t cross. We shouldn’t do it again.”

A half tilt of his lips tells me he disagrees. “I plan on crossing that line with you again and again until you realize the place you belong is by my side.”

“Matias—”

“—Kiss. Me.”

“We can’t,” I argue.

“You’re going to deny a dying man his last wish?”

I click my tongue in disbelief, shaking my head at insistence. “Really? You’re going to guilt trip me? You aren’t dying.”

“I might. You don’t know.”

I bend down until I’m inches away from his face. “You’re insatiable.”

“For you?” His eyes fall to my lips. “That will always be the case.”

He grunts, pushing through the pain as he wraps his hand around my throat, tugging me to him so I can’t fight him anymore. Our lips meet, his tongue curling around mine, stealing my breath and my ability to think.

He survived a bullet, but I’m not sure if I can survive Matias Milazzo.