Page 9

Chapter Eight

Dante

S he lied.

Of course she did. I’m not a fool.

But the reason behind it? That’s what I can’t figure out.

She’s not just doing her job. Anyone with half a brain can see she loves my kids.

Not performatively. Not for show. It’s in the way she brushes Lucia’s hair behind her ear like it’s instinct.

The way she crouches beside Alessio when he’s fuming and speaks to him like he’s someone worth listening to.

She’s not faking that, which makes it harder to swallow the lie.

I told Vito to run another check on her. Deep this time, different channels. And everything came back clean. Too clean, if you ask me. Not even a library fine. No digital footprint before a year ago. It's either a miracle… or a fabrication.

I’m trying to convince myself it’s the latter.

Trying even harder as I adjust the cuffs of my tuxedo in the mirror, fixing the collar with precise irritation.

Because instead of sending Vito in my place tonight like I’d planned, I’m going.

“I need to keep an eye on her,” I told myself. Told Vito. Told anyone who might ask.

But deep down, I know the truth. I want to go.

I want to make the kind of memories she keeps talking about, the kind that sound like fairy tales and feel like lies. Maybe if I’m there, if I’m part of it, it won’t feel like a fucking dream someone else built for my children.

And maybe… maybe I want to see her. Not in jeans. Not barefoot in the kitchen. Not with flour on her cheek and a child in her lap.

I want to see her dressed to the nines. I want to see what Alice Winters looks like when the gloves come off, and she’s not just the nanny.

And I don’t know what that says about me.

At six sharp, I am downstairs in the hall, and as minutes pass, my nerves increase. I'm checking the time on my watch again when I hear footsteps on the stairs .

I turn, and then I forget how to breathe.

She’s descending slowly, a child on each side. Alessio is in a tiny tux, beaming with unearned swagger, and Lucia is wearing a pale-green dress that billows around her like mist. But it’s not them I can’t tear my eyes from.

It’s her. Alice .

She’s wearing emerald green, deep and rich, like forest shadows at dusk.

The fabric clings to her in all the right places, hugging her waist before spilling down in a flow of satin that moves like water with each step.

A high slit reveals one long, toned leg as she walks—elegant, effortless, devastating.

The neckline is soft and off the shoulder, revealing just a hint of collarbone and the graceful curve of her neck.

Her hair is pinned loosely, with a few strands curling down, framing her face like art.

And those lips, dark rose, full, and lush, curve into a soft smile as she speaks quietly to Lucia, who’s whispering something only a five-year-old would find urgent before a formal event.

But her eyes, those too-big, too-honest eyes, are what undo me.

She looks up. And when she sees me, she pauses. Just for a second. A blink of hesitation. I was not supposed to be here, but suddenly, I’m happy I am.

I didn’t expect to feel this.

Not the rush. Not the heat that travels low and fast down my spine. Not the way my chest tightens when Lucia tugs gently at her hand, and Alice tears her gaze from mine like it burned her.

She doesn’t look like a nanny. She looks like something out of a dream I never let myself have.

And I’m fucked. So deeply, stupidly fucked .

“You’re coming?” she asks, her eyes drifting over me with the kind of appreciation that does dangerous things to a man’s self-control.

“I’m creating memories,” I say, then glance down at my daughter gripping her hand. “You look like a princess.”

Lucia beams, giving a proud little twirl as her skirt flutters around her knees. The flower crown on her head slips slightly, but she doesn’t care. She's glowing.

I shift my gaze to Alessio, arching a brow. “You didn’t put up a fight?”

He grins, all mischief and missing teeth. “Nope. I’m an undercover pirate.” He flashes the folded black eye patch tucked into his tuxedo pocket like it’s classified intel.

I huff out a quiet laugh that I can't help and glance back at Alice.

She shrugs, guiltless and stunning, her lips curving into a soft, sheepish smile. “I did what I could to get him into a tux.”

And just like that, the air shifts again. Lighter. Softer.

If I’m not careful, I’ll start to believe this, us , could be more than an ephemeral illusion.

“You look beautiful,” I say, low and rough.

It comes out grittier than I intended, and I’m not even sure why my voice sounds like that—like I’ve been chewing glass and swallowing fire.

And beautiful? That’s blasphemy. It doesn’t come close.

“Oh.”

Her cheeks flush pink—actually flush—and I think it’s the first time I’ve seen her blush. It’s fucking mesmerizing. It draws even more attention to her sharp cheekbones, the curve of her jaw, and the way her lips part just slightly like she’s surprised I said it.

“Well… thank you,” she says, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “I didn’t really have anything to wear for something like this, so I ordered the dress from some cheap, dodgy website. It’s not real satin, and the fit isn’t great, but I figured—hey, I’m just the nanny. I get a pass.”

Just the nanny … right. That’s what she is, and I’d forgotten it for a moment.

“Well,” I murmur, stepping in again. “You look like far more than the nanny tonight.”

She lifts an eyebrow, still a little flustered. “Oh yeah? And what exactly do I look like?”

Mine.

The thought hits hard and fast, possessive and primal, and I step back before I do something even dumber than saying it out loud.

The car ride is only twenty minutes, but it feels like a lifetime.

Lucia grabs my hand, claiming it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

It warms my chest in a way I wasn’t expecting—seeing her less wary, more open.

I’m not sure if she’s changed because of Alice or if I’ve softened because of her too.

But I suspect it’s a little bit of both. And I have to admit… I love that.

Alessio jabbers excitedly beside her, flipping between pirate accents and elaborate plans to steal imaginary treasure. Alice is seated beside me, too close and yet not close enough, her perfume subtle and sweet, threading itself into the air and pulling something tight in my chest.

Our thighs brush with every bump in the road, and I should move. I should , but I don’t. Neither does she. And the silence between us buzzes with something neither of us acknowledges.

Lucia leans into me, her little body warm and trusting, and I feel her small hand squeeze two of my fingers. Alice watches from the corner of her eye, a softness there I don’t have words for.

I catch her watching. She looks away.

It’s quiet for just a second.

Then Alessio kicks the back of the driver’s seat with a wild whoop. “Captain Forzi, prepare for docking!”

Alice chuckles. “You heard him, Captain.”

She doesn’t look at me when she says it, but I feel it anyway. Like the name tastes different coming from her mouth.

We pull up outside the aquarium, and before the driver even stops, the twins are wriggling to escape.

I open the door, and Lucia darts out, dragging Alice by the hand.

Alessio follows, shouting about cannonballs and krakens, and in seconds, they’re halfway up the steps, pulling her toward the entrance.

She laughs, really laughs, and lets them lead her, her green dress catching in the breeze like seafoam. She’s radiant. Not just beautiful… alive . And for a moment, I don’t follow. I just watch.

Until a voice cuts through the air, sharp and unmistakably amused .

“Well, as I live and breathe , Dante Forzi at a social event.”

I stiffen immediately.

That voice. That tone. Vicious velvet.

I turn slowly, and there she is. Madeline Cortez. My late mother’s best friend, wearing black like it’s armor and pearls like weapons, her lipstick bloodred and her smile even sharper.

She lifts one perfectly drawn brow and walks toward me with the elegance of a queen who’s already won the war.

“You must be desperate,” she drawls, stopping just short of me, eyes scanning the scene behind me where my children and their nanny disappear through the doors. “Or smitten. I haven’t decided which.”

“Madeline,” I say coolly. “I’d tell you it’s a pleasure to see you, but we both know I’m not that good a liar.”

Her smile widens, all teeth and danger. “I’ve always appreciated your honesty. It’s so… quaint in men like you.”

She glances again toward the entrance. “Who’s the girl?”

“The nanny.”

She hums, tilting her head. “Is that right? She looks a lot like a future wife to me. But what do I know?”

My heart slams against my ribcage. I glance back, but Alice and the kids are already gone.

“Exactly. What do you know?” I turn, intent on ending this. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to find my children.”

I take one step before she calls after me, her voice all silk and spite.

“Yes, I’m sure it’s nothing more. After all, you’re a recent widower.”

That stops me.

I turn my head just enough for her to see the way my jaw tightens. “It’s been six months. And we both know that marriage was a business transaction. Nothing more.”

She tilts her head, her smile slow and cutting. “Then why do you sound so defensive? She’s just the nanny… right?”

Old viper.

“You have a good evening, Madeline,” I grit out.

I walk away before Madeline can sink her claws in deeper, but her words follow me like the echo of a curse.

Just the nanny.

I catch a glimpse of green near the edge of the pirate ship exhibit, Lucia’s dress, and follow the sound of children’s laughter. They’re up ahead, Alessio already brandishing a foam sword at a man dressed like a pirate, demanding he “surrender the map or suffer the consequences.”