Plus-Size Nanny：My Mafia Don Gets Obsessed, So Does His Underboss.

By noon the next day, I've learned three things about the Romano house. First, Leo hates carrots. Second, nobody uses the basement elevator without permission. Third, if a man carrying a gun tells you to go upstairs, you go upstairs. Mr. Bell delivers that last one while showing me my room. I stop unpacking. “Is that a nanny rule?” “It’s an everybody rule.” “Comforting.” He gives me a look that suggests comfort isn't included in my benefits package. There are other rules. Rafe's office is private. The west side of the second floor is off-limits. I'm not supposed to open the door for anyone, even if I recognize them. “And Mr. Romano?” “What about him?” “Any special rules?” Mr. Bell considers that. “Don't lie to him.” That sounds less like household policy and more like survival advice. I'm helping Leo build a dinosaur village that afternoon when Nico walks into the playroom. Today there is no blood. Progress. There are also, apparently, still no buttons. His black shirt hangs open in a deep V across his chest, sleeves pushed to his elbows. A gold chain disappears under the fabric. I look back at the dinosaurs. “Morning, sweetheart.” “It’s three.” “I had a long night.” “I’m sure several women are devastated.” He laughs. “Just one. She wanted breakfast.” I stare at him. “You're very honest.” “Lying takes effort.” Leo holds up a plastic T-Rex. “Nico.” Nico immediately crouches beside him. “What’s up, killer?” Leo hands him the dinosaur. That surprises me. Nico accepts it with complete seriousness. “Is this guy on our side?” Leo nods. “Good. He looks like he knows how to handle himself.” Then Nico looks at me. His eyes drop. I glance down too. Nothing unusual. Jeans. T-shirt. Apparently my body continues to offend his ability to behave normally. “Can I help you?” “Maybe.” “With what?” His mouth curves. “Depends how adventurous you are.” “Nico.” Rafe's voice comes from the doorway. Nico doesn't even turn around. “She asked.” “I asked if I could help you.” “Exactly.” Rafe walks in, gaze settling on his cousin. “Go bother someone else.” Nico finally looks over his shoulder. “You’re getting possessive over the nanny already?” Rafe's expression doesn't change. “I'm considering burying you in the garden.” Nico grins. “See? Possessive.” He stands and hands Leo back the dinosaur. On his way out, he leans slightly toward me. “If he gets boring, sweetheart, I’m significantly more fun.” Rafe waits until the door shuts. “He thinks he's charming.” “He’s wrong.” “He usually is.” That almost makes me smile. That night, I wake to crying. Leo is curled against his headboard, blanket pulled to his chin. “Hey.” His eyes find mine. “There’s a monster.” “Where?” “In my dream.” His voice shakes. “It comes when it’s dark.” I sit beside him and tuck the blanket around his legs. “Want to hear a secret?” He nods. “There was once a very small soldier who was scared of monsters too.” Leo watches me carefully. “He wasn't strong. His armor was old, and his sword was terrible. Honestly, it was probably a safety violation.” Leo's mouth twitches. “But one night, a dragon came.” “What did he do?” “He was scared.” Leo frowns. “That’s not brave.” “Sure it is.” I touch his hair. “Being brave doesn't mean you're not scared. It means you're scared and you do it anyway.” I tell him the soldier discovered the dragon hated light. So he lit a torch. The dragon ran. Leo thinks about that. “Did he win?” “He did.” A small hand slips into mine. “Can I win?” “Absolutely.” He settles down slowly. “And I can protect you too.” I smile. “Deal.” By the time he falls asleep, his fingers are still wrapped around mine. A shadow moves near the doorway. Rafe. His black shirt is open at the throat. There is blood along one cuff. I look at it. He notices. “Not mine.” “Apparently that's a common sentence in this family.” His mouth moves slightly. He looks at Leo. “He usually wakes up screaming.” “He was scared.” “You got him back to sleep.” “I told him a story.” Rafe's eyes come back to me. For a moment, he just stands there. Then he says, “Marry me.”

I stare at him. “Excuse me?” Rafe leans against Leo's doorframe like he's just asked whether I want coffee. “Marry me.” “You have blood on your sleeve.” He glances down. “That isn't related.” “I really hope not.” His mouth twitches. I carefully pull my hand from Leo's and step into the hallway. Rafe follows. “You're serious.” “Yes.” “That makes it worse.” He folds his arms. “Leo trusts you. He sleeps when you're here. He talks to you.” “So you want to marry the nanny.” “I want stability for my son.” Very romantic. He explains it like a business deal. My own room. My own money. Legal protections. I can keep working if I want. Publicly, I'll be his wife. Privately, nothing will be expected from me. I stop him there. “I just spent nine years being useful to everybody except myself.” Rafe goes quiet. “Grant needed me to take care of his mother. His sister needed free childcare. His company needed me to smile at dinners and remember everyone's birthdays.” I look back at Leo's room. “I care about him. A lot. But I'm not marrying another man because somebody needs something from me.” Rafe studies my face. “Okay.” I wait. That's it. “You're not going to argue?” “You said no.” Men like Grant treat no like the opening round of negotiations. Apparently, men who have people beaten in their basement are better with boundaries. Life is weird. Rafe starts to leave, then stops. “For the record, the arrangement wouldn't have been entirely unpleasant.” I narrow my eyes. “You just said there were no wife duties.” “I said I wouldn't require them.” My face goes hot. He walks away before I can answer. Asshole. I find Nico downstairs twenty minutes later, sprawled across one end of the dining table while six men in dark suits gather around Rafe. A map of the docks is spread between them. Nico's shirt is black and open halfway down his chest. Naturally. He looks at me, then at Rafe. Something clicks behind his eyes. “Oh, fuck.” Rafe doesn't look up. “What?” “You asked her.” Every man at the table suddenly becomes very interested in the map. I stop walking. Nico's grin widens. “You actually fucking asked her to marry you.” “Nico.” “You haven't even slept with her.” Rafe slowly lifts his head. The room changes. Nico, apparently, has been born without a survival instinct. “What?” he says. “I'm impressed.” Rafe's voice stays quiet. “Keep talking and you'll be impressed by how well you can chew with three teeth.” Nico laughs. I leave before I become collateral damage. My phone rings upstairs. Grant. I should ignore it. I don't. “I heard you're living with the Romanos.” “Congratulations. You know how gossip works.” “You're their nanny, Mara.” “And?” He laughs once. “You used to have some pride.” There it is. “I have a job.” “You weigh what, two hundred pounds now?” My fingers tighten around the phone. “Still you, then.” “I'm trying to help you. Men like Rafael Romano don't want women like you. He can have models. Actresses. Women who actually take care of themselves.” I hang up. For a few seconds, I just stand there. Then a voice behind me says, “Your ex always that fucking stupid?” Nico. Of course. “How much did you hear?” “Enough.” His eyes move over me slowly. My chest. My waist. My hips. There is nothing subtle about it. “He thinks no man would want you?” “I don't remember asking for a review.” “Good.” He steps closer. “Because mine would be wildly inappropriate.” “Nico.” “What?” “Don't.” His grin is pure trouble. “Sweetheart, if you ever feel like proving your ex wrong, I'm very available.”

Three days later, I learn Nico Romano is much less entertaining when people owe the family money. I don't mean to overhear anything. Leo has left his dinosaur in the downstairs hall, and I'm halfway there when a man's voice comes through the closed dining-room doors. “I can pay it back.” Nico answers. “That's great.” He sounds almost cheerful. “Which hand do you like more?” Silence. Then, “What?” “Left or right. Pick one.” I stop walking. Rafe says something too low for me to hear. A chair scrapes. The man starts begging. I make it back upstairs before the screaming starts. Twenty minutes later, Nico walks into the kitchen wearing black pants and a dark V-neck shirt open halfway down his chest. His sleeves are rolled up. His hands are wet. He finds me staring. “What?” “Nothing.” “That was definitely something.” I reach for Leo's juice. Nico leans against the counter. “Scared of me now, sweetheart?” “I was already reasonably concerned.” He grins. “Good. Means you're paying attention.” That evening, the Romanos host a private dinner at one of their clubs. Apparently, “private” means fifty people, armed security, and at least three men Mr. Bell quietly advises me not to ask about. Leo wants me there, so I go. I wear a navy wrap dress I've had for years. Grant hated it. Too fitted around my stomach. Too much hip. I almost change before leaving. I don't. Nico notices immediately. Of course he does. “Fuck.” I look at him. He takes a drink. “What?” “You can't wear that and expect me to behave.” “I don't expect you to behave in anything.” “Smart woman.” Before I can answer, a woman nearby looks at the birthmark across my chest. Her mouth tightens. “So you're the nanny.” “Mara.” She ignores that. “I heard Rafael hired someone Leo wouldn't get attached to in the wrong way.” Her friend laughs softly. My stomach drops. The woman looks me over. “I suppose that makes sense.” I know exactly what she means. My fingers move toward my neckline before I can stop them. Leo sees. He steps in front of me. “Don't.” The woman blinks. Leo points at my chest. “That's Mara's birthmark.” His voice shakes, but he keeps going. “It doesn't make her ugly.” My throat tightens. “She tells me stories,” he says. “And she stays when I'm scared.” Then, louder: “She’s pretty.” The table goes quiet. Nico appears beside us. He looks at the woman, then at me—slowly enough to make his meaning obvious. “You've spent the last five minutes staring at her tits.” Her face goes white. “Nico—” “At least buy her dinner first.” I turn on him. “That wasn't helping.” “Helped me.” Later, near the bar, Nico leans close enough that I can smell whiskey. “Your boss is watching us.” “He's your boss too.” “Yeah.” His eyes flick toward Rafe across the room. “That’s what makes this fun.” Rafe is already walking toward us. “Nico.” “Relax.” Nico looks straight at me. “I haven't even asked her to fuck me yet.” Rafe stops. “Yet?”

The next afternoon, Leo and I stop at a small market a few blocks from the house. He has agreed to broccoli under protest. Carrots are still apparently a human rights violation. I'm reaching for tomatoes when someone behind me says, “Mara?” I know the voice. My body knows it before my brain does. Grant stands near the entrance in a charcoal suit that probably costs more than my first car. His eyes move over me. Then stop. “You lost weight.” I almost laugh. “No.” He frowns. “You did.” “Same size, Grant.” His eyes drop again. The jeans I wear actually fit me now. My sweater follows my waist instead of hiding it. I've done my hair that morning. Nothing miraculous has happened to my body. I've just stopped dressing like I owe everyone an apology for having one. Grant stares at my hips. Then my stomach. Then my chest. “You look different.” “I sleep now.” His mouth tightens. “I guess the clothes help.” There it is. I look at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “You know exactly what I mean.” His eyes go to my thighs. “You used to wear those huge shirts because you knew how much weight you'd put on.” My hand tightens around the tomato. “I wore them because every time I wore something fitted, you had something to say.” “Because you stopped taking care of yourself.” Leo looks between us. Grant keeps going. “Your thighs got huge. Your stomach hung over everything. You stopped wanting the lights on in bed because even you knew what you looked like.” For a second, I can't speak. He gives me that familiar look. The one that always makes me feel like I'm being unreasonable for being hurt. “I’m not trying to be cruel, Mara. You asked why I stopped touching you.” “I didn't ask.” “Well, there’s your answer.” His gaze catches the birthmark above my neckline. “And you’re showing that now?” I go still. “That thing was bad enough when you were thinner.” Leo's fingers tighten around mine. Grant laughs under his breath. “I used to tell you to cover it because people stared. You acted like I was ashamed of you.” “You were.” “I was trying to save you the embarrassment.” I stare at him. He actually believes that. Grant glances around the market. “You think lipstick and tighter clothes change what people see?” “What do they see?” His eyes drag over me. “A divorced woman pushing forty who let herself go years ago and suddenly thinks dressing like this means men are going to notice.” Leo frowns. “Stop.” Grant ignores him. Then he sees Leo properly. Recognition comes quickly. “Romano’s kid.” “Yes.” He laughs once. “So that's what this is.” “What?” “Playing mommy until his father notices you?” My jaw tightens. Grant steps closer. “Be serious, Mara. Rafael Romano can have women half your size lining up outside his bedroom.” His voice drops. “Women he can actually take somewhere without people wondering who brought the help.” That one lands. He sees it. Of course he does. Grant has always known exactly where to press. “You couldn't keep your own husband interested.” His gaze goes back to my body. “When was the last time you looked at yourself naked and honestly thought a man like that would want you?” Leo steps in front of me. “She’s pretty.” Grant blinks. “And she’s my mom.” The silence lasts half a second. Then Grant laughs. “Your mom?” He looks at me. “You’ve got his kid calling you Mom now?” “Grant—” “Jesus, Mara. Is this the plan? Get close to the kid, get into the house, and hope Romano eventually gets desperate enough to fuck the nanny?” “Don't swear at him.” Grant grabs my wrist. “You really think you're going to sleep your way into that family?” A voice behind him says, “I’d take my hand off her.” Grant freezes. Rafe stands beside a black SUV. Black shirt. No tie. One hand in his pocket. He looks calm. That is worse. Grant releases me. “Rafael.” Rafe's gaze drops to the red marks on my wrist. When he looks back up, something in his face has gone cold. “Mara and I were just talking.” “I heard.” Grant straightens. “She’s my ex-wife. I know her better than you do.” Rafe walks toward us. Grant laughs without humor. “She gained weight and stopped trying years ago. I came home to a wife hiding under oversized clothes who wouldn't even let me turn the lights on during sex.” Rafe stops beside me. Grant gestures toward my body. “You really want that?” Rafe looks at me. Slowly. His gaze goes from my face to my chest, down my waist, over my stomach and hips. My skin goes hot everywhere he looks. Then his eyes come back to Grant. “That?” Grant's mouth tightens. Rafe's expression stays flat. “I’m trying to figure out what the fuck you're complaining about.” Grant stares at him. Rafe takes the grocery bag from my hand. Then his palm settles at my waist. Warm. Heavy. His fingers curve into the softness Grant has spent years convincing me I should hide. Grant looks at Rafe's hand. Rafe notices. His thumb moves once against my side. “You were saying something,” he says quietly, “about my wife?”

Grant stares at Rafe's hand on my waist. “Your wife?” Rafe's expression doesn't change. “You having trouble with the word?” “You barely know her.” “I know enough.” Grant laughs, but it comes out thin. “Mara spent nine years in my house. I know exactly what kind of woman she is.” Rafe looks at him. “That explains why you lost her.” Grant's jaw tightens. “You think because you're Rafael Romano, you can just—” “Yes.” Grant stops. So do I. Rafe glances at my wrist. The marks from Grant's fingers are still red. His voice goes quieter. “Apologize.” Grant actually laughs. Rafe doesn't. “You've got three major developments moving through Red Hook this quarter,” he says. “Two need port access. One needs union labor.” Grant's face changes. Rafe continues. “Your concrete comes through a supplier that owes me money. Your private security contract is with a company I own through three other companies you’ve never heard of.” Grant goes pale. “And that's just the legal shit.” Silence. Rafe steps closer. “So when I tell you to apologize to her, Grant, I'm not asking.” Grant looks at me. For the first time in nine years, he looks small. “I'm sorry.” I feel almost nothing. “Don't be sorry.” His eyes lift. “Just don't touch me again.” Rafe takes the grocery bag from my hand. “Good talk.” We're halfway home when I finally look at him. “You didn't have to call me your wife.” “I know.” “That’s it?” He glances over. “You preferred I let him keep talking?” “No.” “Then it worked.” I fold my arms. “You're very annoying.” “I've been called worse.” “By Nico?” “Frequently.” That almost makes me laugh. Rafe's phone rings before I can. He answers. His face changes. “What happened?” A pause. Then, “How many?” Whatever comes through the phone erases the last trace of humor from his face. “I'm on my way.” By the time we reach the townhouse, the front doors are already open. Two men are carrying someone inside. Blood soaks through his shirt. Leo goes still beside me. Rafe sees it instantly. “Upstairs.” I take Leo's hand. Then Nico comes through the doorway. His black shirt is open low across his chest, but this time the blood on his collarbone is definitely his. A cut runs along his ribs. He looks furious. “Morelli.” Rafe stops. “How bad?” “Two hit. One's not making it.” From somewhere behind us, a man groans. Another doesn't make a sound at all. Nico wipes blood from his mouth. “We hit them back tonight.” Rafe looks at him. “With what intel?” “They hit our fucking dock.” “And I'm not starting a war blind.” “They already started it.” Rafe's voice drops. “Then we'll finish it properly.” Every man in the hall goes quiet. Rafe turns. “Lock down the house. Double the men at Leo's school. Nobody moves Mara without telling me first.” Nico's eyes flick to me. Then back to Rafe. Something almost amused crosses his face. Rafe sees it. “Don't.” Nico smiles through the blood. “Didn't say a word.” He doesn't need to. Neither do I.