Chapter 8 - The Mafia Nanny (Davina & Gabriel) Novel Free
1274 Words
A woman of indeterminate age, she might have been sixty or forty, stepped into the room. Her ramrod-straight, thin body was clothed in a beautiful olive-green suit and a baby-pink blouse. While the clothes were expensive and fashionable, they didn’t soften her appearance in the least. The severe spectacles only reinforced the image. She reminded me of a fairy tale character. Like a wicked witch in disguise.
“Good afternoon, Davina,” she began in a heavy Russian accent. “My name is Zelda Popov. I wasn’t here to meet you on the day of your interview and that is regrettable, since I am in charge of this house, everything, and everyone in it. As it pertains to you, my job is to make yours easier. I do not live here, and I am not always on site, but I will give you my mobile number, so you can reach me at any time. When you have requests, and you will, you must contact me.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you to, Ms. Popov.”
“You may call me Zelda,” she said with a wave of her bony arm.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
She took a few steps towards me and held out a folder. “Here is your copy of your contract, NDA, and your schedule. It is a simple one. Michele has tutors, so your responsibility is only to take care of her. Make a list of whatever supplies you require, and I’ll see that it’s filled.”
“I will.”
“You can have Monday or Tuesday off. You are free on Sundays too. If you wish, you may join Michele at church, it’s Russian orthodox, but you are not required to do so.”
“I’ll have Monday off and I’ll decide on Church later.”
She nodded. “I will let the other staff know. Now meals. Breakfast is served at eight, lunch at noon, tea at four, and dinner at seven. You will eat with the rest of the staff after Michele has eaten, or you may decide to eat with her. This week’s menu is attached to the file so you can peruse through and if there’s anything of concern, or something you desire then just let me know so I can make the adjustments.”
I glanced down at the plan of scones, chicken, and pudding, and felt my heart warm considerably. “Everything looks great as is, and I’m allergic to nothing.”
“Good. Michele is currently not attending school, but her afternoons are packed with tutors to ensure that she doesn’t fall behind with her school work. Her uncle prefers that she arises early to begin her day. He is a morning person, so he prides himself in instilling that habit into everyone else around him. Please ensure that she is up and dressed and has had her breakfast by seven-thirty in the morning.”
“Sure.”
“Michele loves to read,” she continued, “So after breakfast she will dally in a book or two until her tutor arrives. After that, piano lessons followed by martial arts lessons.”
I did a double take on that, wondering if I had misheard correctly, but no, it was clearly stated in the schedule. My eyes were filled with questions for Margot.
“Self-defense takes precedence over most things in this household,” she explained. “Her uncle insists on it, even for you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, I think you will find the lesson quite easy. As they will be basic maneuvers to ensure you can protect Michele in the event of a mishap.”
Why were mishaps expected, I wondered. Apart from their incredible wealth, and security, the household appeared quite normal and thus far, all I knew of the source of their good fortune was a family business.
“You’ll get settled in no time,” Zelda assured me.
“I’m sure I will.”
I have been asked to inform you that you will be dining with Mr. Angelini tonight. I believe he wishes to hear if the facilities meet your expectations.”
“I am more than happy with everything so far.”
“Good you can tell him yourself.” Zelda paused and pushed those severe glasses up her nose. “I wish to welcome you to the house. I will do whatever I can to ensure your success. I am on call twenty-four hours a day, so all you have to do is ask.”
I smiled despite myself. While Zelda didn’t look like a ray of warm sunshine, she seemed to have a heart somewhere inside that tailored suit.
“It’s almost lunch now, so I’ll take you to see Michele and you can have your first meal together. I believe you have already informally met her.”
“Yes, I have and that will be wonderful.”
A few minutes later and I was shown to the dining room.
Davina
The six-year old princess was already waiting for me dressed in clothes that most other girls her age would prize as star outfits. She nodded solemnly to me.
She had an adult grace to her that I found almost disconcerting. I looked around at our surroundings. The whole room had been decorated with the kind of formal elegance that intimidated even me. The table was far too long and high for the child, the chairs too grand and heavy. The chandelier, well, it had more bulbs than a forty-foot Christmas tree.
“What do you think, Michele, too much? Shall we find somewhere cozier?”
The little girl’s eyes widened, then she nodded eagerly.
I turned to Zelda. “Can we move to that sunny room next to the kitchen? I believe there is a table there that’s just our size.”
Zelda frowned. “That is where the children of the kitchen staff eat when they come around.
“No wonder I thought it was perfect.”
“Fine.” She gave instructions in Russian to Margot who was hanging around at the entrance of the door. Her eyebrows arched, but she nodded and disappeared.
I led my charge into the bright little room with windows that overlooked an apple tree full of fruit. As we sat down, Michele gave me a secret little smile. Lunch was chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables.
Michele gracefully forked green beans and mashed potatoes in her mouth.
“You eat your vegetables so well,” I said. “Do you like vegetables?”
She shook her head in response, and returned her attention to her meal.
“Then why do you eat them so well then? I mean it’s amazing that you do, you need them to grow into a beautiful young woman, but it is unusual for a child to be so good about eating what’s good for them.”
She withdrew her notepad from the little pink purse she had slung around her body and began scribbling.
He
I was confused. “What do you mean?”
She didn’t respond. She just went on with her meal, sipping slowly from her glass of freshly sq***zed orange juice. Her shoulders however, couldn’t hide the weight her words held over her as they slumped forward.
This ‘he’ was a concern for her, whoever it was. Whether that was positively or negatively, I needed to know. “Who is he?” I asked, but she didn’t respond. She didn’t even spare me a glance. So, I slid the notepad towards me and wrote my question down on it.
- Writer
