I sit confidently in the small waiting room as I prepare to be called. Heels clicking on the polished floor claim my attention, and I turn my head, watching a tall brunette approach, wearing a tight smile. “Ms. Clark. Mr. DiPietro will see you now,” she says, pursing her lips as she rakes her gaze up and down me with clear derision.
Wow. Judgmental much? I get that I don’t look like the stereotypical nanny, but it’s rude to judge me for my looks when she hasn’t even heard a word I have to say. Forcing a fake smile on my face, I rise gracefully, pleased I have the height advantage by an inch or two. Normally, I avoid heels because it means I tower over the average guy, but on this occasion, I’m glad to be taller. “Thank you.” I cast a quick look over her, but I’m not as obvious or bitchy as she was. Her small chest is at odds with her tall frame, curvy hips, and rounded butt, but I envy her all the same.
She stalks ahead of me, her spine rigid and an air of haughtiness surrounding her. I wonder who pissed in her cornflakes this morning or if this is her usual personality.
I smooth a hand down the front of my skirt when we stop in front of a door. She enters the large office first, pausing by the door to usher me inside before closing it after me. She gestures toward the desk at the far side of the room. A man is standing in front of the window, looking out at the waterfront in the near distance. I’d say the view is spectacular in the summer from this vantage point. I study Don DiPietro as I walk across the room. Broad shoulders taper to a slim waist, narrow hips, and a shapely butt behind his black dress pants. My steps falter when he turns around and I get a look at his face.
My god, he’s stunning.
Dark hair is slicked back from his face in a classic American style. Vibrant green eyes study me as I approach, flaring slightly as he examines my face. He gets brownie points for not looking below my chin. His olive complexion complements the layer of stubble on his chin and cheeks. Cristian has a strong nose and full lips, an ode to his Italian American heritage. Ink peeks out from under the wristbands of his pale blue dress shirt and above his collar. A small diamond earring loops around one ear.
He’s older than me, but I anticipated that. I didn’t know what to expect, really. It’s not like I’ve ever crossed paths with the Italian mafia. But I wasn’t expecting a man in his thirties, and I certainly didn’t imagine he’d be so hot. I can’t decide if it’s better he’s attractive or if it makes my planned seduction worse.
A throat clearing snaps me out of it, and a natural blush stains my cheeks when I reach his desk.
“Ms. Clark. I’m Cristian DiPietro,” he says, rounding the desk and smiling pleasantly. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for coming in.”
I smile shyly, remembering my role. “The pleasure is all mine, sir. Thank you for letting me interview for the position.”
His arm extends, and I shake his hand. His palm is callused but warm, and heat travels up my arm from his touch, alongside a trail of fiery tingles. “Call me Cristian. We don’t stand on ceremony around here.”
“Is this your son?” I ask, spying the framed photo on his desk. It’s a fabulous picture. Cristian’s pride in his son is obvious in the adoring expression on his face.
“That’s Elio.” The same pride radiates in his tone.
“He’s adorable. The resemblance is strong.”
“Have a seat.” He motions toward the empty chair in front of the desk as the woman sinks into one of the chairs on the opposite side. “This is Isotta. She is Elio’s current nanny, and she’s helping me with the interview process.”
Well, that’s just swell. I can tell the woman dislikes me, and if she holds any sway, I might have already blown this. I nod and smile in her direction. “It’s good to meet you.”
“We should get down to it,” she says in a clipped tone, opening a file in front of her.
Cristian leans back a little in his chair and smiles in my direction. “Before we begin, you should know Elio is my adopted son. He’s my biological nephew. His father was my only brother. Both his parents died before he was one.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. He’s lucky he has you.”
“Adopting Elio has given me the greatest joy. My world revolves around my little boy.” His face softens as he glances briefly at the framed photo. “Isotta is Elio’s aunt, on his mother’s side, and she has selflessly given of her time to care for him while I work. But she’s getting married shortly, and that’s why we are interviewing for her replacement.”
“How exciting,” I say, smiling pleasantly at the dour-faced woman. “Congratulations.”
Silence greets my statement until Cristian pointedly clears his throat.
“Thank you,” she says. “I’m very attached to Elio, and I’ll still be around a lot, so whoever we hire will have access to ask me questions. Elio is a delightful child, but he can be a handful.”
“What Isa means,” Cristian says, drilling her with a look, “is Elio is a very active child. He has lots of interests, and he’s well-rounded. He’s into sports, art, reading, science, and he loves learning about the world. He isn’t the kind of child to sit for hours in front of the TV, not that I’d permit it. He will need to be entertained and enlightened. He starts pre-K in September, but until then, his nanny will need to plan his days in advance to keep him busy and active.”
“That won’t be an issue. As you’re aware, I have a degree in early childhood education, and I have CPR and first aid certification.” The former is a lie, but the latter isn’t. “I’m pretty good at arts and crafts. I babysat regularly for different parents during high school, and I was on the school’s basketball team and cross-country team. I led an active lifestyle growing up in Lake Placid, and I love the outdoors.” All of that is true except where I come from. I was raised in Ithaca, New York, but the Lake Placid experience would’ve been similar.
“And yet your previous employer dismissed you after eight months. That’s hardly a ringing endorsement, and your actual nanny experience is limited.” Isotta arches a brow, and while she might think she’s concealing her smugness, I read it all over her face.
I don’t like this woman, and I’m not going to let her rattle me. She clearly doesn’t want to relinquish the role, and I’m betting no one will be as good as her in her eyes. Folding my hands in my lap, I smile pleasantly as I calmly reply. “My employer relocated to Europe. Mr. Smithson’s company transferred him to Switzerland, and though his wife wanted me to travel with them, the company was providing a nanny, and it was already arranged.”
I purposely swing my gaze to Don DiPietro. “I understand I might not have as much experience as other candidates, but I make up for it in other ways. I adore children, and I seem to bond naturally with them. There is nothing quite like seeing the world through the eyes of a child. Nurturing their inquisitiveness and supporting their individuality is important to me, while setting boundaries and maintaining discipline is critical so they feel safe and grow up with a healthy respect for adults and the rules. I think I strike the right balance.” My eyes flit to the sullen woman sitting beside my would-be employer. “At least that’s what my former employer has said in their reference. If you have doubts, you can always reach out to them.”
“That won’t be necessary. Your references have already been verified,” Cristian says, glancing sideways at his current nanny. He shoots me an apologetic look before smiling. “Tell me about the kids you were taking care of and what their day-to-day routine was.”
The interview progresses naturally from there, but it’s an odd experience. Isa’s obvious aversion to me comes through in the questions she asks and her aggressive probing style. Cristian is more laid-back, and his questions are more intelligent. He doesn’t give as much away, his manner affable and warm. I can tell he’s growing increasingly irritated by Isa’s behavior, but he doesn’t call her out on it.
