Chapter 9 Be my son\'s nanny

It took Liam a while to finally fall into an exhausted sleep against Zoe’s chest. When they put him into his bed and left Liam’s room, Zoe immediately rounded on Milano. “What the fuck was that? Are you insane?”

Milano grabbed her wrist and tugged her into the nearest room. Closing the door, he turned to Zoe, his jaw set. “That was the first time in months my son initiated physical contact. The first time he said anything in over a year. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting this chance slip by.”

Zoe looked at him, at a loss what to say.  

“I get that,” she finally managed. “But I’m not really his mother. He’ll just be traumatized again when I don’t come back!”  

Milano sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. The important thing is to get him over whatever mental block he has now, make him open up, more sociable. Until he does, even the best psychologists can’t help him. Right now he’s afraid of people, even me. Things might be different when you leave in a few months.”

“In a few months?” Zoe repeated, puzzled. “I’m your PA only for a few weeks until your PA gets back to work.”

“Obviously, you won’t be my assistant anymore,” Milano said dismissively. “You won’t have time for that. My son is a handful.”

Zoe started to feel like they were having two separate conversations. “Wait, you want me to be your son’s nanny?” Zoe laughed a little. “Are you out of your mind? I have no clue what to do with kids!”

“You did well enough with Liam just now,” Milano said, looking unconcerned. He glanced at his Rolex. “I’m giving you the rest of the day off so you can grab your things and move into the house.”

Zoe didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. This man was the personification of every horrible overbearing trait Zachary possessed, multiplied by Milano’s natural haughtiness and assumption that people would always do as he said.  

“I don’t recall agreeing to any of this,” she said. “I’m in America on holiday, not to work as a nanny!”

Milano stared at her as if Zoe was a strange, alien creature speaking a language he didn’t understand. “I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars a week.”

A laugh left Zoe’s throat. It probably sounded a little hysterical, but gods, she’d never met a man who exasperated her as much as Martin Milano did.

“It must be nice to be so rich that you’re willing to pay a stranger you barely know ten thousand dollars a week for the privilege of living in your house, eating your food, and playing with your son.”

Milano’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “Don’t tell me you aren’t tempted.”

Zoe chuckled. “Of course I’m tempted. I’m broke. But listen, I’m not going to lie to that poor kid and let him think I’m his mother. That will only confuse him further. All the money in the world won’t make me do it.”

“You won’t have to lie about that,” Milano said, shrugging again. “My son isn’t stupid. He will realize that you aren’t his mother soon enough on his own. All you’ll have to do is provide a familiar face for him. It will be the easiest money you’ve ever made.”

That Zoe couldn’t argue against that. But the situation was bordering on ridiculous: she’d gone from being a tourist to being an intern-slash-spy to being a personal assistant to being a nanny, all in the span of ten days.

“Fine,” Zoe said.

Milano nodded, looking grimly satisfied but unsurprised.

Zoe suddenly wondered how many times this man had heard “No” in his life. She was willing to bet the number was depressingly low.

“I’ll tell Winifred to prepare a room for you next to Liam’s,” Milano said, heading out of the room.

Zoe followed him. “Okay.”

“My driver will take you to your hotel and wait while you pack your things.”

Zoe caught her lip between her teeth, hesitating. There was no point lying about it; Milano’s driver would tell him anyway. “I’m not staying at a hotel. I’ve been staying at Montreal’s Manor.”

Milano’s back tensed. He turned around, his eyes cold and sharp. “Montreal Manor?”

Zoe met his gaze steadily. “Yes, is there a problem? I thought Derek was your partner.”

“How do you know the Montreal’s?” Milano asked, not answering Zoe’s question.

Zoe eyed him curiously. For the first time, she wondered if Derek Montreal’s suspicions weren’t unfounded. There was something hard in Milano’s eyes when he spoke about the Montreal’s.

“I didn’t,” Zoe said. “I was supposed to stay at their friend’s place, but they had to leave the country and asked the Montreal’s to let me stay at their house for a while.” She grimaced.  “My passport and money were stolen at the airport, so I kind of had no choice but to accept their hospitality.”

The faint air of suspicion around Milano disappeared, replaced by a frown. “Don’t you have a family? Can’t they help you?”

Zoe smiled ruefully. “They obviously can, but I’d rather my brothers don’t know that I already managed to run into trouble. I’m the baby of the family and they all can be ridiculously overprotective.”

Milano nodded, as if that made perfect sense to him. He pulled out his phone and brought it to his ear. “Zane, take my assistant to Montreal’s house. Wait for her while she packs. No, I won’t return to the office today.” Ending the call, he looked at Zoe, as if saying, Why are you still here and aren’t doing as I say?

Rolling her eyes with a smile, Zoe headed to the front door.

But her smile dropped when she realized that she would have to tell the Montreals that she couldn’t do what they wanted. She wouldn't be able to keep an eye on what Milano was doing at the office when she no longer worked in said office.  

To be honest, it was a relief. The whole spying business had never sat well with her. She just hoped they wouldn’t consider her a traitor for agreeing to work for Milano.

The thought made Zoe frown as she got into the car.

It wasn’t that she owed the Montreals her loyalty—she didn’t know them all that well—but she’d been staying at their house for several weeks now and she liked them. In fact, she liked them a lot. They had helped her when she really needed it, even though they had no obligation to do it. So she felt… a little bit bad. But she was also relieved that she wouldn’t have to do the spying—it seemed so underhanded.

Fuck, she didn’t know what to do. Coupled with Milano’s utterly insane, terrifying plan to use her as some kind of pseudo-mother for her son, Zoe felt like burying her face in her hands to scream her heart out.

What had she gotten herself into?

Zoe was still mulling it over by the time the car stopped in front of the Montreal’s house.

“Thanks, I won’t be long,” Zoe told the driver, before getting out.

Zane shrugged, pulling out a cigarette. “There’s no rush. Mr. Milano told me to wait for you. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

Zoe smiled faintly and strode toward the house.

When she asked a maid where Wendy was, she was told that Wendy was in Derek’s study with her husband.

Zoe grimaced a little. She didn’t really wanted to see Derek—Wendy was far less intimidating than her husband—but it looked like it wasn’t Zoe’s day. To be totally honest, although Zoe liked the Montreal’s as a couple, Derek Montreal kind of unnerved her. It was a little strange, actually: Zoe felt pretty comfortable around Milano, who was as high-handed as Derek Milano was, if not more, but something about Milano’s brand of high-handedness felt familiar and even amusing while Derek’s just made her feel small and foolish.

Zoe knocked on the door. She knew better than to enter without knocking after the time she’d caught Derek and Wendy making out in there.

After a while, Wendy called out, “Come in!”

Zoe almost smiled when she saw that Wendy was flushed, her hair disheveled, while Derek’s shirt was buttoned wrongly.

“Sorry for interrupting,” she said with amusement. “But it kind of couldn’t wait. I wanted to tell you that I’m moving out.”

Derek frowned. “Xandro and his wife won’t be back for a few more weeks.”

“I know.” Zoe raked her hand through her hair. “I’m sort of moving into Milano’s house. To work as a nanny for his son.”

Wendy and Derek stared at her.

To her surprise, Derek said, “Ah. He wants to use your resemblance to his ex-wife.”

“You knew about it? You know about his son?”

Derek nodded. “There have been rumors for a while that his son is mentally deficient—”

“He isn’t,” Zoe bit off before she could stop herself.

Derek gave her a strange look. “I’m only repeating the rumor,” he said calmly. “I can’t attest to its accuracy.”

Zoe felt herself flush. She didn’t know why she felt so protective of a child she’d just met, but remembering Liam’s wide, uncertain eyes and cherubic little face made something in her heart clench protectively.

“People say the kid was traumatized by the atmosphere in his family,” Wendy said quietly.  

“What atmosphere?”

Wendy seems uncomfortable. “They say Milano’s wife had a drug problem,” she said. “And she liked… to have fun.”

Derek sneered. “You can call a spade a spade, Wendy: she was a whore. But from what I heard, Milano wasn’t going to win any Husband of the Year awards, either. No wonder that kid was traumatized with such stellar parenting.”

Zoe frowned. Milano had said that Liam had likely been traumatized by his mother’s abandoning him in an unfamiliar place, but maybe living in such a difficult environment had contributed too. Either way, poor kid.

“So you won’t work at the office anymore?” Wendy asked.

Zoe shook her head.  “Apparently no.” She smiled ruefully. “Sorry. I know I promised to keep an eye on him, but—”

“You can still keep an eye on him,” Derek said, boring his dark eyes into her.

“Derek,” Wendy said sharply before giving Zoe with a sheepish look. “Ignore him. You don’t have to do anything. Now that Milano is your employer, we can’t exactly ask you to spy on him. It would put you in an awkward position.”

“Keeping an eye on someone isn’t the same as spying,” Derek said. “We would appreciate it if you tell us if he’s up to something. That’s all.”

“Okay,” Zoe said, wincing on the inside. So much for being relieved. “I’ll go pack my things. Thanks so much for your hospitality.”

Wendy nodded, with a gentle smile on her face. “Don’t mention it. And you’re absolutely invited to come here whenever you want, Zoe.”  

“Thanks,” Zoe said with a smile. They really were such a lovely couple. “I’ll go pack now.”

On the drive back to Milano’s house, Zoe mulled over Derek Montreal’s request-slash-order, trying to understand why she felt so uneasy about the whole thing.

She didn’t owe her loyalty to Martin Milano. The man hadn’t been remotely nice to her. Meanwhile the Montreal’s were good people who had done her a huge favor.

So why did she still feel like she’d just made a mistake by agreeing in Derek’s request?