Page 102 of Righteous Enforcer
His eyes narrow at me. "A nanny we need to guard? A nanny who could be informing Ivan? Don't insult my intelligence."
"I'm keeping her close to find out what she knows," I explain, setting the empty glass down. "The Bratva wants her for a reason. She has information we need."
"And that's the only reason you brought her back? Information?"
His tone makes my jaw clench. "What other reason would there be?"
Alessandro leans back in his chair, studying me. "You tell me."
"She's the mother of my child," I say flatly. "And Mirabella needs her."
"And you?"
"I need answers." It's not a lie, just not the whole truth. But Alessandro doesn't need to know how my heart still lurches when Eva looks at me with those haunted eyes.
He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "This is a mistake."
"Maybe." I shrug. "But it's my mistake to make."
Alessandro doesn't argue further, which surprises me. Instead, he returns to his paperwork. "Keep her contained. And Adriano?"
"What?"
"Remember who she is. What she did." His voice drops. "Don't let her make a fool of you twice."
I nod stiffly and turn to leave. His words follow me down the hallway, echoing what the colder part of my brain already knows. Trust Eva again, and I'm asking to be betrayed.
Over the next few days, I establish a routine that isn’t dissimilar in action but is altogether the opposite emotionally.
Every morning, I join Eva and Mirabella for breakfast, watching my daughter devour chocolate chip pancakes while Eva picks at her food, eyes darting to me when she thinks I'm not looking.
I'm always looking.
When I’m not working, I’m with Mirabella, pushing her on the swing while Eva watches from a nearby bench, or playing fairy land while Eva quietly cleans up the room.
I catch Eva smiling sometimes when Mirabella laughs. Those smiles are dangerous to me. They remind me of before, when I believed Eva was mine.
At night, I read Mirabella bedtime stories while Eva brushes her hair, our fingers occasionally brushing as we tuck her in.
The electricity between us hasn't died, and it’s fucking frustrating.
"Thank you," Eva says one night as we close Mirabella's door.
"For what?"
"For not letting our problems affect how you treat her."
I step back, creating distance. I hate how she turns everything into my being a bad guy. “Our problem isn’t her fault.”
“No, they’re mine.”
“That’s right. And just to be clear,” I say, leaning forward again so she knows I mean business, “don't mistake my love for our daughter as forgiveness for you."
Her face falls, and something inside me twists with satisfaction even as another part aches.
This boundary is necessary, I remind myself.
During the day, I work, throwing myself into Dante business with renewed focus. Alessandro watches me with skeptical eyes but says nothing more about Eva's presence. He can be a real ball-buster, but I know deep down, he respects and trusts me.
