Acting on his own instincts he moves in quickly and kisses me hard, his lips searing mine. I don't push him off, because the longer this rough man kisses me the softer my heart becomes for him, and the damper my panties in a way unlike ever before.
His lips are fierce but considerate of mine. His hand moves to my cheek in a gentle way. My whole body relaxes as I become butter in his touch. I don't want this to stop, but it does as he leans back into his seat and lets the back of his head find the wall.
"I shouldn't have done that."
I don't say anything, because I'm too busy thinking about what just happened.
What did just happen? Did I just kiss a mafia boss? No, he kissed me. And I liked it. I liked it a lot and I want more.
I don't know what's going to happen next. I don't know if this is right and I don't know if this is wrong.
All I know is that my life just changed in an instant. And an instant later, it changes yet again.
"You can't be a babysitter. This isn't going to work."
Wait, what?
4
Tony
Ihad to cut her loose. She’s John's daughter and just turned nineteen. I can't swing that. Can’t justify it being right.
I bring Luca home from the hospital, my mind on him and never letting what happened to him ever happen again. But to say that I'm not also fixated on Cassandra would be an absolute lie.
I can't remember the last time a kiss felt like that. There aren't many things in life that make me feel alive other than Luca. Maybe scoring a big win in my line of work or getting by the feds, but none of that gives me the high that I got while kissing her. For the first time in my life, the world melted around me, the only thing left was one of the two things in this world that are truly important. Her…and of course my boy. He’s home again which is a huge win, but she’s not, and there’s a vacuum inside of me because of her absence.
This giant mansion I worked so hard to get feels like nothing more than an oversized structure without her here.
At least Luca is okay. He's still a little woozy and banged up but I can tell he's got that typical little boy energy that can't be duplicated. After all, he comes from my genes and I'm not someone that folds easily no matter what life throws at me. My son inherited this. He's going to be okay.
As for that FBI agent, I haven't heard a single thing from him. He was probably bluffing. Creating a whole child services branch in the F.B.I. just to take down someone like me? Come on now. I'm a small fry compared to the budgets that they routinely spend and the guys they’re really after.
I guess that Brady prick's some low-ranking agent who saw me walking through the hospital and wanted to make a name for himself by rattling my cage. And he did so at the expense of my son. So fuck him. He thought he’d get a second thought from me, but he won’t. The person that will, and does, is Cassandra.
As much as I don't want to think about John's daughter, she made an impact on me that I can’t seem to shake no matter how hard I try. I guess I won't call it opening up, but she got me to do something. She got me to feel. And that's not an easy task.
After I settle in with Luca, I bathe him and make him dinner, cutting up hot dogs to go with macaroni and cheese. It's one of the few things that I know how to make. Pathetic. But I don't have the time to watch overly happy YouTube influencers bounce and skip their way through recipes for stuff you can ‘easily’ make at home.
I'm also not going to call my mother. My key with all the emotional crap it's that when I start feeling emotional I pull away and regroup. The last thing that I need right now is to call my mom after feeling something about Cassandra. Cutting ties with someone meant cutting ties. It doesn’t mean going back on the promise you made to yourself, no matter how strong the gravitational pull is in her direction.
I bring the plate over to Luca and right away he's not having it. Not. One. Bit.
"Come on Luca you're not going to eat it? I made this just for you."
He sulks, becoming his all too often fussy self as he pushes the food away. I can tell that he's hungry, but he doesn't want what I made him. This doesn't leave many options for me. I don't regret firing the other nanny before Cassandra. But at least she knew how to cook.
I usually opt for delivery or takeout. But I don't want to do that for Luca. I want him to have home-cooked meals even if it’s nothing more than hot dogs and macaroni. At least I know what’s in it, and more importantly what’s not.
I look over at my phone on the kitchen island and think about calling my mother. I just can't.
Cassandra.
I let out a long sigh. I don't want to go back on my word. It's just that I can't get her off my mind. I'm looking for every excuse in the book to see her. I'm looking for every excuse in the book to hire her back. The kiss didn't help. It only made things a lot worse.
The doorbell rings. Of course, it does. Because nothing in my life can ever be simple. "You're going to eat this food when I get back, Luca."
Walking to the front door I wonder who it's going to be. Of course, in the back of my head, there's always the thought that I'm going to open the door to a gun and have my brains blown out, despite the considerable amount of money I spend on security. This is why I tend to always make sure Luca is in another room and not by the door whenever I open it. The last thing that I want is for him to see my gray matter flying all over the room. Micro-moments like these, where I’m unsure of the outcome because I can’t personally control it or muscle my way into a position where I can guide or move things in the direction I want, constantly fill me with regret. I could have had a whole different life. I could have been a simple garbage man who worked eight hours a day maybe some overtime here and there and I would never have to worry about putting my son's life in danger or having his father potentially taken away due to his stupid lifetime of mistakes.