Page 3

Dionysus

CHAPTER THREE

“Are we going straight home, Mr. Kostanidis?” my driver asks as soon as I get into the car.

“Yes, Anderson. I need to interview the night nanny candidate.”

It would be better to say another nanny, one of so many who have already failed in their role.

I look in the rearview mirror when he purses his lips, and I know why: Anderson is practically family, and he was as mad as my brothers that my ex-employee left my son alone, crying in his crib, to have sex downstairs.

None of her replacements have stayed long.

I close my eyes for a moment, feeling a headache coming and wondering whether I shouldn’t accept Zeus’s suggestion and put Joseph in day care, swapping the nanny who stays until two in the afternoon for a night shift.

The problem is that Mrs. Nuttle has already announced that she won’t be able to stay every night, because her husband doesn’t like her being away for long.

“For our Joseph’s sake, I hope this one works out, sir.”

I nod my head in agreement, although I have my doubts.

As he drives away, I look out the tinted window, but my head is miles away.

I know I’ll have to hire Miss Pain.

Jesus, even the woman’s name is wrong. How can a nanny have the word “pain” as a last name?

I also know that she won’t last in the role, and it has nothing to do with her eccentric last name but everything to do with the fact that she didn’t try to touch my son during the interview.

In fact, she didn’t even look at him.

I purposely left the stroller containing my boy nearby, but the woman seemed much more focused on proving her professional qualifications to me—which are many, I don’t deny—than understanding that the main element of this equation is her good relationship with my son.

Contrary to what most websites for solo parents state as requirements, I don’t give a shit whether she went to college or speaks more languages besides English. If she can’t have a genuine connection with Joseph, it won’t work for me.

“I didn’t like her, if I may say so,” Anderson articulates my thoughts.

“Me neither, but she has an impressive resumé.”

“Children need much more than basic education.”

Yes, my brothers and I know that all too well. Although we had a happy childhood, what followed the end of our adolescence was the death of our mother in an accident and then our father’s suicide. It was a nightmare.

In the blink of an eye, we went from a close-knit family to four orphans whose patriarch—our grandfather—wasn’t exactly the model of love, even though he tried hard to balance his career with his dedication to his grandchildren. We’d barely recovered from the loss of our parents when Grandpa fell ill, and he didn’t last six months.

Zeus has done his best to keep us as a unit, but inside each of the Kostanidou there is an emotional hole that nothing can fill.

No, that is not true. I have my son, the child who came into my path by chance but whom I love as if he were a part of me.

“Maybe you should rethink this hire, then, sir,” he says, and although I’m not the type of man to accept opinions when it comes to my decisions, I know he’s only thinking about Joseph’s wellbeing. “I don’t think this constant turnover of people taking care of him is good for the boy.”

“I will analyze it calmly during this last interview. I haven’t decided anything yet.”

“Thank God!” he says, and what I see in his eyes in the rearview mirror conveys relief. “There’s something strange about that— Jesus!”

He brakes suddenly, and if I hadn’t been wearing my seatbelt, I would have been thrown into the front seat, distracted as I was sending a message to Hades.

I don’t even have time to ask what happened because Anderson is already outside the car.

What in the hell is going on?

Breaking all security protocols and certainly giving the head of my bodyguards—who’s in the vehicle behind us—gray hair, I also get out.

It feels like a fucking parallel universe when I see a woman slumped in front of the car.

“Did we hit her?” I ask in disbelief, already dialing an ambulance.

“It wasn’t my fault, Mr. Kostanidis. She threw herself in front of the car or crossed without looking. I’m not sure. In any case, the garage light that signals for vehicles to exit was on.”

He looks like he’s about to faint, and even though I didn’t witness the whole thing, I know he’s telling the truth. Anderson, like Larry, Zeus’s driver, has worked for our family since my grandfather was alive.

“I called an ambulance,” I tell him as I approach to try to check the woman’s vital signs. I know I shouldn’t move her because I might make her condition worse. Despite this, I bend down to see if she is conscious. It’s not in my nature to sit still, waiting for things to happen.

I hear voices around us. People crowd around, but I’m absolutely focused on her.

I can’t see her face, but rather a mass of red hair that covers it. Not the salon-made kind but a full, wavy mane that oscillates between shades of orange and red.

She appears fragile, with delicate limbs, very white skin, and freckles on her arms and neck. She’s so still that, for a moment, I think the worst.

There’s no blood, but I know that internal bleeding is much more serious, and even if Anderson wasn’t driving fast, the girl—yes, I think it’s a girl if you consider her body type and the way she dresses—looks much too delicate to withstand the impact of a car.

I move my fingers to her neck, praying that she’s alive, and I breathe again when I feel her pulse.

The girl’s skin is warm and smooth as silk, and I feel a little perverted for noticing that.

“She’s alive,” I say to reassure Anderson because otherwise we’ll have two people needing help instead of one.

I’ve never seen him so anxious.

At the same time, I can’t tear myself away from her, feeling connected to the fragile creature in a way I can’t understand.

I hear the sound of the ambulance, and I get ready to get up, but the girl grabs my hand.

“I’m actually a cat. I’ve already spent my second life. I have to be careful. There’s only seven left now.”

After that, she faints.