The Mafia Nanny (Davina & Gabriel) Novel Read Online

Chapter 9 - The Mafia Nanny (Davina & Gabriel) Novel Free

Who is he?

She glanced at it and then at me, and exp**ssionlessly, returned to her food.

I felt as though I was speaking to an adult who seemed more in control of her emotions than I was.

Her sudden move away from the thrilled child that had smiled at me just a few moments ago to this coldly aloof creature troubled me deeply. I decided she needed more time. I moved back into clearer waters. “You have a free hour after lunch. What do you want to do?”

She came alive then, and wrote on the notepad.

Red hair. Like yours.

Her eyes pleaded with me to make it happen.

I knew instinctively that she was trying to manipulate me. Children are masters at that. It was obvious she had already asked an adult and been rejected so she was trying her luck with me. Normally, I wouldn’t even consider coloring a child’s hair, but I also understood it would be a bonding exercise for us. I needed her to trust me and let me get closer to her. I decided to think this one out. “I will see what I can do, okay.”

The light died from her eyes as if she knew I would be asking the other adults and it was unlikely to happen, but she nodded anyway.

After lunch, I took Michele to the activities room where we started a game of tic-tac-toe. While I expected to have to subtly, allow her to win, Michele proved a bit of a champion at this game. For a six-year old child she seemed to have a natural affinity for spatial relationsh*ps and she won, or drew half the time.

After a while, I decided to do something else with her. We filled tumblers with water and I got her started on water color painting. Her painting tugged at my heart. It was a painting of three people in front of a house. The woman was wearing a pink dress and the man was wearing a blue shirt, and black trousers. They were both holding the hands of a little girl with curly brown hair. There were big smiles on all their face. A big yellow sun was shining and there were flowers next to them and behind them was a house with a red door. I assumed they were her parents, but I was careful not to ask about them. Something must have happened to them if Gabriel was now her guardian.

Soon it was time for tea.

While Michele listened, I spoke about tea and the British love affair with the afternoon ritual. I talked about where tea came from, how the different varieties were cultivated and graded. I told her about the tea picker in Sri Lanka. How the women tied baskets on their backs and went up the hillsides to pick the leaves. I told her that at every hour of the day and night, someone, somewhere was having tea.

By the time tea was over, Michele had heard a great deal about tea and the history of tea, but she hadn’t said a word.

I had once considered myself reasonably clever. I had never failed to entertain children and elicit squeals, laughs and chatter. From Michele, I got nothing. The girl did smile once in a while, but she contributed absolutely nothing to the conversation, not even by writing on her notepad. I wasn’t discouraged. I had never expected a miracle. Trust would be the key to unlocking the little girl’s fear of speech.

By six, Michele showed signs of fatigue so I fed her, ran her a bath, and read her a couple of fairy tales from one of her books. She smiled at me sweetly as I tucked her into bed. I wanted to hold her and k**s her vulnerable little face, but I knew I needed to give her some time, so I just smiled back and wished her a goodnight.

I went back to my room and found I still had time to have a shower and change before dinner. I walked my fi**gers through my limited wardrobe and gauged the s*x appeal of the two dresses I had brought. Neither could be classified as a come on, which was a good thing. After that k**s and our agreement to keep it clean, I didn’t want to give Gabriel ideas. I settled on the black dress with the high neckline, then sl*pped into a pair of sensible flats.

It was just a casual dinner.

Nothing more.

Davina.

I headed down the marble stairs, my hand sl*ppery with nervous sweat on the smooth banister. Dinner had begun about seven minutes earlier, but just as I was about to walk out of the door vivid memories of what had transpired bet**en us the previous evening suddenly came back to torment me.

I felt haunted and unsure of my own convictions. I still hadn’t been able to make up my mind about how I intended to deal with him, and until I did, I knew I was going to be vulnerable to his lure. Eventually, I forced myself out of my room. I’d never been a coward, and I wasn’t going to start now.

Straightening my spine, I stepped into the vast dining room.

The silver shone, and the crystal glasses glistened under the great chandeliers. Gabriel was already seated at the head of the table and smoking a cigarette.

My eyes skittered over to the other place setting at the other end of the table. The table was so long it seemed as if he was half a mile away, which would be a plus since his effect would be less potent.

“Come and sit next to me,” he invited in that smooth, velvety voice of his.

I stilled. The much-needed distance from him I’d hoped for was fast disappearing. “If you don’t mind,” I began, unable to look directly at him. “I would prefer—”

“But I do mind,” he cut me off.

In that moment, our gazes met. Blue curls of smoke rose around his dark face. His eyes glittered like ice and I felt as if there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. I found myself s**king in a big gulp of air. It seemed insane, but I had to admit to myself that in the mere space of a day I had missed him. The way his powerful personality affected me was incredible.

Almost unbelievable.

I’d hoped my memory of how strongly he affected me would be rendered inaccurate on second reflection as something that my mind, nervous about the job interview, had exaggerated.

I was wrong.

If anything, he appeared even more swoon-worthy. He must have just had a shower; his sinfully dark hair was damp and swept away from his brow, the top two b**tons of his white dress shirt unb**toned. The exposed, tattoos on the bronzed, toned flesh of his ch*st made my mouth go dry. His sleeves were folded up his arms. My eyes caressed the corded muscles of his forearms. There were intricate blue tattoos there too.

My gaze shifted up to his face.

A vein in his jaw popped and throbbed as he looked at me through the veil of smoke.

It held my attention for longer than was necessary. Was he as affected by me as I was by him? I couldn’t pull my gaze away. It was as if my eyes needed to drink him in. It seemed almost indecent, this s****l attraction already brimming in the air bet**en us.

He took one last drag of his cigarette and killed it in his ashtray.

Clearing my throat and holding my head up high, I walked to the seat beside him.

Orlov appeared out of nowhere, and with excessive politeness seated me and laid a napkin onto my lap.

I turned my head and looked at Gabriel. Our eyes locked. It was like looking into the devil’s eyes. For a few seconds, I became lost in his gaze. I got a sensation as if I was on my hands and knees crawling around on the floor searching. Searching, for my lost heart or soul. It brought back the lines from an old poem:

You remind me of eyes I’ve seen before.

Eyes I’ll always love.

Eyes I’m afraid of.

A noise of cutlery shook me out of my trance and I hurriedly dropped my gaze in confusion. What was happening to me? Why was I so out of control? Did this man possess some kind of magic or was I just losing my mind?

I drew a ragged breath to steady my nerves and his scent filled my senses. It commanded the hairs on my arms to attention. Truly, I hadn’t lied when I told Charlotte I could smell this man’s desire for me. My mind felt restless and my body fevered. I stared straight ahead, as Orlav reset the place setting in front of me.

“Red or white?” he asked from my side.

“Red,” I replied, and my voice sounded raspy, out of control.