Matteo's POV
I should not have been standing there.
The moment my eyes landed on Emily wrapped in nothing but a towel, I knew I had crossed a line that could not be uncrossed. Steam still clung to her skin, her hair damp and curling softly at her shoulders. She froze when she saw me, clutching the towel tighter against her chest, and something twisted painfully in my chest.
I looked away immediately.
Not because I was uninterested.
Because I was too interested.
"Pardon my intrusion," I said, my voice lower than I intended.
Her laugh was nervous, breathless. "It's your house, Matteo."
That was the problem. Everything in this house was mine. Except her. And my body did not seem to understand the difference.
"I just wanted to apologise for my ex wife's behaviour earlier today," I said.
"It's no big deal, Signore," she replied, trying her best to replicate an Italian accent.
I broke into a hearty laugh. Her attempt was horrible, but who was I to tell her that.
"Was that how bad my accent was?" she asked, smiling.
"Believe me, I have heard worse," I said, a ghost of a smile still on my face. "Goodnight, Emily."
I turned and walked out before I lost my self control and pinned her against the wall, before I worshipped her body with my lips.
Jesus, Matteo. Get it together.
When I left her room, I stood in the hallway longer than I should have. Long enough to remind myself that she was my employee. Long enough to remind myself that Sophia came first. Long enough to swear I would never make the mistake of losing control the way I once did.
Still, when I finally reached my bedroom, sleep did not come.
Her face followed me into the dark.
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The next morning arrived too quickly.
I was already dressed when I heard small footsteps running down the hallway. The door burst open and Sophia climbed onto my bed like she owned it.
Because she did.
"Papa," she said, crawling into my arms. "You smell like coffee."
I smiled into her hair. "That is because I drink too much of it."
She giggled, then went quiet in the way that always meant a question was coming.
"Papa," she said carefully, "can I get a new mama?"
My body went rigid.
"A what?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.
"A mama," she repeated. "Like Emily."
There it was.
My heart thudded hard against my ribs as I sat up slowly, Sophia still tucked against me, my mind racing faster than it ever had during a board meeting.
Emily.
Had she said something? Had she encouraged this? The thought unsettled me immediately, even though I hated myself for thinking it.
I kissed Sophia's forehead and pulled back enough to look at her face. "Why do you say that, amore mio?"
She shrugged. "Emily reads me stories. She smells nice. She does not yell. And she listens."
I swallowed.
"She listens," Sophia added firmly. "Mama never listened."
There it was. The truth. Simple. Honest. Sharp.
I forced myself to breathe. "Sophia," I said gently, "Emily is your nanny. She is here to take care of you. That is all."
She frowned. "But I want her to be my mama."
My chest tightened.
"I already have a papa," she continued. "So I just need a mama."
Children had a way of dismantling even the strongest defenses.
I smoothed her hair back. "You cannot choose a mama the way you choose a doll."
She looked disappointed but nodded. "Okay."
Then she smiled. "But I can still love Emily, right?"
"Yes," I said without hesitation. "You can."
When Sophia left my room, she seemed light again, her earlier disappointment already forgotten. Children healed faster than adults ever could.
Downstairs at breakfast, however, she was unusually quiet. She barely touched her food, her small shoulders tense in a way I recognised too well. When I asked Emily about it later, she told me Sophia had woken up crying during the night and insisted on sleeping beside her.
My jaw tightened.
I thought we were past the night terrors. Seeing Stacy again must have reopened wounds I had worked so hard to bury. Hatred for her surged inside me, sharp and familiar.
I apologised to Emily again for everything that had happened. I also informed her that security around the house would be increased, for her safety and for Sophia's.
I watched Emily carefully, noting how naturally she moved around Sophia. How patient she was, how she instinctively noticed when Sophia was upset, how she always seemed to have the right words. And I hated myself for noticing how much I wanted more than just professionalism from her.
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That evening, I found Emily in Sophia's room. The little girl was playing quietly with her dolls while Emily read aloud, her voice soft and melodic. Sophia's tiny hands were busy arranging furniture, but her eyes constantly flicked to Emily's face. It was a bond forming too quickly, too naturally. I had to remind myself it could only be professional.
"Sophia seems attached to you," I said, stepping into the doorway. "More than I expected."
Emily looked up at me, calm. "She's been through a lot. I just want her to feel safe."
I nodded, but my chest tightened. "As you should. Just remember, the only relationship she can have with my daughter is that of a nanny and a child. Nothing more."
Her eyes met mine, steady, unflinching. I wanted to reach out, to touch her face, to tell her that I didn't just mean professional boundaries—I meant every boundary between us. But I didn't. I turned away.
It pained me to say it. Not because Emily argued. She did not. But because I was drawn to her in a way I had not felt in years. My life was filled with shadows. With enemies. With blood-stained memories. It was not something I could drag an innocent woman into.
I was doing this for both of us.
"Goodnight, Emily," I said when I finished.
I turned and left without waiting for her response.
In my room, I stripped and stepped into the shower. The mirror fogged as water ran down my body, revealing scars hidden beneath ink. The most significant one sat over my chest. A date carved into flesh. A reminder of everything I lost.
I closed my eyes.
The sound of metal crushing metal. The screech of tires. The gunshots.
I would never forget the day Caleb took everything from me.
And when I found him, I would not show mercy.
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The next morning, I woke before the sun. The house was silent, except for the faint rustle of Sophia's breathing from her room. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the empty space beside me in my sheets and thinking about Emily.
Even now, hours later, she still occupied every corner of my mind. The sound of her voice reading to Sophia, the way she tucked the child in, the subtle tilt of her head when she laughed. How unfair that someone could have so much control over my attention without even trying.
I reminded myself again: Emily is a nanny. Nothing more. Sophia comes first. Always.
And yet, my heart betrayed me.
I dressed quickly, forcing myself to focus. Breakfast was another exercise in self-control. Sophia was quieter than usual. She barely touched her food, her small hands fidgeting with her spoon. I noticed Emily's concerned glances at her, the gentle way she tried to coax a smile, the way she let Sophia take the lead and choose what to eat.
After breakfast, I called security and updated the team on yesterday's incident. Stacy was still a problem, and I would not let her near Sophia again. Ever.
Then, reluctantly, I moved to my office. Every shadow in this house reminded me of my past. Caleb. The night I lost everything. The people I had failed to protect.
And yet, a small spark of hope one I had not allowed myself in years began to grow. Sophia. Emily. Two lives I could shape, protect, and care for without letting my past destroy them.
I would keep my promise to Sophia. I would keep my promise to Emily.
And one day, I would make Caleb pay for every scar he left behind.