Page 5 of Of Lies and Shadows

So I did the only thing I could. I lifted the blanket and let her crawl in beside me.

She curled against me, warm and silent, and I stayed still, afraid any move might shatter her calm.

She eventually fell asleep. I didn’t.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Maria’s face in those final weeks, gaunt, angry, and afraid, and I wondered if Lucia remembered it too.

The knock on my office door pulls me back into the present.

“Your eleven o’clock, Mr. Forzi.”

I glance up with a grunt. My temples ache from a tension headache that’s been threatening since dawn.

“Send her in.”

Alice Winters walks in like she’s trying not to take upspace.

Ten minutes early. Neat and quiet. Looks younger than the picture, with red hair, brown eyes, and nervous energy barely concealed beneath a polite smile.

My attitude’s already shot, and I’m not in the mood for small talk.

“Sit.”

She startles slightly but obeys, clutching her bag like it's armor. Her posture is perfect, legs crossed at the ankle. Trained. Coached. Polished. Too polished?

“You’ve read the job details?”

“Yes, sir. Your assistant sent them yesterday.”

“It’s extremely demanding. Twenty-four hours, seven days a week.”

“I’m aware.”

“And yet you showed up.”

That earns me a flicker of surprise, quickly hidden. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’re twenty-three. This job won’t allow for a social life, and I’m not interested in finding another nanny in two months when you realize it’s too much for you.”

She straightens a little, her chin lifting just slightly. “No, that won’t happen. I want this job,” she says. “I think I can help.”

“Everyone thinks they can help. Until Alessio locks them in the bathroom and sets something on fire.”

She blinks. “He… did that?”

I raise a brow. “Twice.”

She swallows. I don’t miss it. But she doesn’t bolt. “Isn’t he five?”

“Yes. An early bloomer. Like his father.”

I flip open her file without enthusiasm. “Child development degree. Fluent in English and French. No Italian?”

“No, but I can learn if?—”

I wave my hand dismissively. “There’s no need. Speak French to me.”

“Je ne sais pas vraiment ce que vous souhaitez savoir sur moi. Pourriez-vous développer?”

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