Chapter 2 - The Only Person They Trusted
At seven thirty the next morning, my head of security found me drinking espresso in my office.
Marco Bellini had worked for my family for fifteen years.
He had seen shootings, betrayals, federal raids, and men twice his size beg for mercy.
I'd never seen him look confused.
Until that morning.
"Boss."
"What?"
"The twins won't eat."
I kept reading.
"Call Elise."
"That's the problem."
I looked up.
Marco shifted his weight.
"Miss Navarro is eating breakfast."
"And?"
"They apparently object to her eating breakfast without them."
I stared at him.
"You're afraid of two babies."
"I've been shot three times."
"Four."
"I don't count Chicago."
"Why?"
"That idiot missed everything important."
I put the papers down.
"Where are they?"
"Kitchen."
I found chaos.
Maisie was howling in a high chair.
Rosie was throwing pieces of banana.
My housekeeper, Mrs. Alvarez, looked exhausted.
Elise sat at the other end of the kitchen table, halfway through a piece of toast.
The moment Maisie saw her—
silence.
Rosie followed.
Mrs. Alvarez crossed herself.
"Madonna."
Elise looked guilty.
"I was only gone three minutes."
I folded my arms.
"This happens every time?"
Mrs. Alvarez answered before she could.
"Since six this morning."
Elise stood.
"Girls, Daddy doesn't like food on the floor."
I frowned.
"How do you know that?"
She pointed toward Rosie.
"Because he just looked at that banana like it insulted his ancestors."
Marco coughed to hide a laugh.
I shot him a look.
He disappeared.
Elise sat between the twins.
"All right. Open."
Maisie accepted a spoonful of oatmeal.
Rosie did the same.
I watched in disbelief.
"Why?"
Elise glanced at me.
"Why what?"
"Why do they listen to you?"
"Because I don't order them around."
"They're babies."
"Exactly."
I pulled out a chair.
"What do you do?"
"I give them choices."
"They can't talk."
"They can complain."
Rosie slammed her spoon down.
Elise nodded.
"See?"
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Later that afternoon, Dr. Peter Harlan arrived.
He was a child-development specialist I'd hired after Sophia's death.
After observing the girls for nearly an hour, he joined me in the library.
"They're improving."
"In two weeks?"
"Sometimes children respond quickly when they find consistency."
I glanced through the glass doors.
Elise was sitting on the lawn with the twins.
"She's a nanny."
Dr. Harlan looked at me.
"Is that a problem?"
"It's temporary."
"To you."
His tone irritated me.
"What does that mean?"
"It means you're treating attachment like an employment contract."
I stood.
"Careful."
He didn't flinch.
"That's why you pay me, Alessandro. To tell you things your employees won't."
I said nothing.
"The girls have lost their mother. Their father is physically present but emotionally distant."
"My daughters are protected."
"Protection isn't affection."
My eyes hardened.
"I love my children."
"I know."
He softened.
"But do they?"
That question followed me all day.
That evening, I found Elise alone in the kitchen.
She was washing bottles.
"You have staff for that."
"I know."
"Then why are you doing it?"
"It helps me think."
I leaned against the counter.
"Dr. Harlan says the twins trust you."
"He's smart."
"That's not an answer."
She sighed.
"What exactly do you want to know?"
"Why you?"
Elise went quiet.
She placed the bottle down.
"When I was eight, my mother married a man named Victor."
Something about her expression changed.
"He wasn't kind."
I waited.
"When I cried, he told me crying was manipulation. When I was afraid, he said fear made people weak. When my younger brothers cried, I learned how to make them laugh before he heard them."
My anger sharpened.
"He hurt you?"
She looked directly at me.
"That's not relevant to my job."
"It becomes relevant when you work inside my house."
"No. It becomes relevant when you decide everything around you belongs to you."
That answer would have terrified most people in my world.
Elise simply returned to washing bottles.
I should have been angry.
Instead I respected her more.
"Did you raise your brothers?"
"Pretty much."
"Where are they?"
"One's in college. The other joined the Coast Guard."
"And your mother?"
"Dead."
"I'm sorry."
She looked surprised.
Perhaps because men like me weren't expected to apologize or offer condolences.
Then she shrugged.
"It was a long time ago."
From upstairs, Rosie cried.
Elise immediately moved.
I caught her wrist.
Not hard.
Just enough to stop her.
"I'll go."
She stared at me.
"You?"
"They're my daughters."
A tiny smile appeared.
"Good answer."
I walked upstairs before I could reconsider.
Rosie stood in her crib.
Maisie was already awake.
Both stared at me.
I reached for Rosie.
She hesitated.
That hesitation cut deeper than any insult.
"It's me," I whispered.
She began to cry.
My instinct was to call Elise.
Instead I sat down.
I remembered Sophia.
She used to tap the girls gently between the shoulders while humming the same melody.
I tried.
Badly.
Rosie cried harder.
"I know. Your mother was better at this."
Maisie watched.
I kept going.
Eventually Rosie's sobs softened.
Then stopped.
Her tiny fingers wrapped around my shirt.
I froze.
From the doorway came Elise's quiet voice.
"Don't move."
I looked at her.
She smiled.
"You finally got promoted."
"To what?"
May you like
"Dad."
For once, I didn't have a response.
