Page 2 of Kingpin's Nanny

And aside from his diligent care of his niece, Mr Knight has a reputation for having very few morals. King’s Cross—my boss’ territory—somehow manages that anyone who has wronged them gets lost on a journey and never returns. It’s one of the biggest transport hubs in London, and I think no one dares mess with Lucas Knight for fear they’ll grind the whole city to a halt.

“He does tell me stories,” Ivy acknowledges. “But I’ve never had a mommy and daddy, and all the girls at school do.”

“Do they tease you?” I ask, perhaps a little sharply.

“No.”

Thank god. I don’t want to even imagine what Mr Knight would do if she was being bullied.

Ivy pouts as she thinks. “Do you think Uncle Lucas will let me call him Daddy if I give him a really nice Christmas gift?”

“Maybe.” I’m not at all sure what would melt Mr Knight’s heart if five years as being a de facto single dad hasn’t. “The picture is really lovely.”

“I think it needs to be better wrapped.”

I blink. I’ve no idea where this has come from.

“What about the special wrapping paper we were working on?” It’s really just colouring in, but I’ve drawn patterns on big sheets, and we’ve been filling them with bright crayons. It looks super cute.

“Yes!” Ivy smiles happily, and I return it, wishing I thought that the right Christmas present wrapping would bring me what I most want too.

Maybe I’ll get a new dress on my afternoon off. If I’m draped somewhere seductively—or as close to that as an awkward virgin twenty-three-year-old gets—Lucas will take pity on me and give me what I want for Christmas too.

In fact, what I’m going to buy tomorrow is far naughtier: a sexy Santa costume.

“I’ll go get the paper,” I tell Ivy, and she springs off my lap as though she was never on the verge of tears.

For the next hour, I watch Ivy more than usual as we work together on the design-your-own wrapping paper. I drew a train pattern on this one, with holly, stars, and Christmas trees. Ivy and I agreed Lucas would like it.

My phone buzzes, and I jolt.

It’s unexpected. I have everything set to silent—except Mr Knight’s number in case he calls, but he never does—so I can keep all my attention on Ivy. But I do have one new app: OnlySantas.

Ivy is opposite me, happily colouring in stars. Surely it’s okay, just this once?

I pull my phone from my pocket, and there on the lock screen is a notification that makes my heart race. The OnlySantas icon jaunty little present looks so innocent. It’s a lie. OnlySantas is an app for people who love to watch festive, sexy fun. Camgirls and guys dress up and while some just talk, many doway morethan talk.

Late last night I checked with Mr Knight after he closed Ivy’s door that what we agreed to when I began employment with him was still the case: I could have Christmas Eve and Christmas day off. He confirmed with all the charm of a bear woken early from hibernation and shown a rotten fish just out of reach. I’ve heardrumours of what happened to the previous King’s Cross kingpin when Mr Knight took over. To only be snapped at and scowled at made me think I got off lightly.

I have been working for six months without a break now, which I’m pretty sure isn’t legal, but mafia bosses make their own rules. It was a stupid impulse to sign up for OnlySantas, I know that. But after my attempts at flirting with Lucas have been as effective as flinging tinsel against a granite wall, I wanted to be seen. I want to feel desirable. I have two days off this year to do that. I’m going to make these days count, and also be properly festive.

And it worked. Someone has seen me on OnlySantas, even though I was too shy to post more than a promise of a show with the site’s recommended everything for costs and stuff, and a picture of my white and red painted toenails.

I click the notification, then stare in shock. The exclusive rights to watch my whole performance on Christmas Eve have been bought. And it’s thousands. They’ve paid in advance, and their screen name isYourBoss.

My head swims.

Lucas.

I glance up, as though just thinking the word could summon him.

Has the man I’ve been hopelessly in love with since we met purchased my entire debut camgirl? That’s insane. But how could he have known? It must be a coincidence. There are a lot of mafia bosses in London, and not all are famous.

But my heart has leapt to the conclusion that maybe he’ll finally see me as more than just his employee, because that’s what I most want. Being honest, I was going to fantasise that my boss was watching me while I took off my clothes for strangers anyway.

I check the start time of the show again, as though it might have changed without me looking. Seven o’clock. I have plenty of time to make myself nervous and crazy. But also—I’m leaving detailed instructions for Ivy’s bedtime routine, already printed out ready. Mr Knight always finishes at seven. It could be him.

I close my phone and shove it back into my pocket. Picking up my red crayon—what could be more festive—I draw a smiley face on the paper, then colour it in, then look across at Ivy. She’s still concentrating on that one star.