Page 11 of Of Lies and Shadows

Imeant to come home earlier.

Early enough to meet the new nanny, introduce her to the kids myself, and maybe spare Teresa the work of handling it alone.

But I didn’t come home last night. And I wasn’t there at eight this morning to greet her.

This is what happens when a shipment of guns arrives at the port and then disappears into thin air.

We've finally recovered the shipment, but it’s nearlymidnight.

I’ve been awake for almost forty-eight hours. My body is sore, my head is pounding, and all I want is a hot shower and a few hours of sleep.

My aunt will give me hell in the morning. That much is guaranteed.

I sigh as I step into the house. It’s dark. Silent.

I head upstairs, slowing as I pass the nanny’s room.

I stop in front of the door, stare at it for a moment, then shake my head and keep walking.

No point now. I’ve already made my impression, or lack thereof.

In my room, I pour a generous glass of scotch from the bar and take a long sip as I walk toward the bathroom.

The shower is hot, the kind of heat that peels the fatigue from your skin in layers.

I stand under the spray until my muscles start to loosen, until I can almost pretend I’m not carrying half the weight of the city on my shoulders.

By the time I dry off and head back to bed, the glass is empty.

I fall onto the mattress, and I’m out before my head even hits the pillow. No tossing. No turning. Just sleep, deep and uninterrupted.

Lucia doesn’t wake me. That thought hits me the second I blink my eyes open and glance at the clock: 8:17 a.m. Far later than I usually get up.

I groan as I sit up, scrubbing a hand over my face.

I’ll be working from home today. I need to catch up and, more importantly, speak to Nanny Alice.

We haven’t had a proper conversation yet. That changes today. She needs to understand the rules.

The twins are not to grow attached. They’re not shy, but they’ve learned better than to trust strangers.

Teresa’s been with them for months and hasn’t managed to get so much as a hug. I won’t have some young, temporary nanny becoming a fixture.

They’ve lost enough.

I get in the kitchen and make a coffee, but as I pass the sunroom on the way to my office, I hear something that makes me stop.

Laughter.

Not just Alessio’s usual chaos, but Lucia’s. Light. Airy. Real.

I quietly step closer. The door is cracked open.

Inside, Alessio is on the couch, wooden sword in hand, standing victorious on the cushions.

And beside him, barefoot, one knee up on the sofa, hair slightly mussed is her.

Alice.

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