Nanny for the Don (Silver Fox Daddies #21)

Chapter 8

Willow

W hat the hell just happened?

I throw on my clothes, each movement sharp and angry, the sting of his rejection still fresh.

I’m totally pissed off, my emotions a mess. I plop down into the chair, snatch up my glass of wine, and take a long, frustrated sip. The events of the last hour keep replaying in my mind, and I can’t make sense of the boiling conflict inside me.

On one hand, I’m proud of myself. I finally took control of my sexuality, made my own damn choice, and did it with a man I genuinely wanted. No more waiting around for the "right time" or the "right guy"—I decided for myself, and it was liberating.

But then there’s Nico’s reaction, and that’s what’s really messing me up. The way he pulled away, the guilt in his eyes, like I was some kid he shouldn’t have touched. I feel confused, hurt, and, if I’m being honest, a little embarrassed. Did I push too hard?

I thought I was taking a step toward something empowering, but now I’m questioning everything. Did he regret it the moment it happened? And if he did, what does that say about me? Was I just some stupid, impulsive girl who got in over her head?

I take another sip of wine, the taste bitter on my tongue as the questions swirl around in my head, each one cutting deeper than the last.

I’m bouncing back and forth between feeling like a total badass and like the biggest idiot on the planet. One minute, I’m replaying the way his hands felt on me, the way his fingers teased me until I was practically begging for more. The memory of him inside me, slow and deep, making me come over and over, and I can still hear the way he growled my name, like I was the only thing that mattered in the world at that moment.

God, it was so hot—every single second of it.

But then, doubt creeps in. Did I misread the whole situation? Was I completely naive to think I could handle a casual encounter with someone like him—older, more experienced, and clearly way out of my league?

I can’t help but worry that I’ve not only screwed up my job but also thrown my self-respect out the window. I’ve never been one for meaningless flings, and I was so careful about my first time, wanting it to be special. And it was… wasn’t it? I can’t shake the feeling that maybe I rushed into something I wasn’t ready for.

I need to figure out what I really want—what this all means for me—but right now, all I’ve got is a mess of emotions and no clear answers.

I decide there's one thing I can do right now—find out more about my boss. Who the hell is he, really? I hurry over to the bar, topping off my glass. With my wine in hand, I head to my room and grab my laptop, a sense of determination fueling my every step. .

I type his name into the search bar and hit enter, not entirely sure what I’m expecting to find. But when the results pop up, I nearly spit out my wine. There are tons of articles, all with his name plastered across them, and not in the way I expected.

I read the words “Conti Family Syndicate.” What the actual fuck? My eyes widen as I click on one of the headlines, my heart racing. The article talks about him having a business that looks totally legit on the surface, but the article dives into all these rumors and allegations about him being the head of a damn Mob family . Is this for real?

I scroll through more articles, each one more intense than the last.. Words like “organized crime,” “underworld connections,” and “Mafia” jump out at me.

My mind is spinning. How did I miss this? The man who just took my virginity might be a freaking mob boss? I take another big gulp of wine, trying to wrap my head around what I’m seeing.

I furiously scroll through articles, trying to piece together what I can, but it’s all so damn murky. Some sources hint that he’s the boss, while others suggest he’s just a front man for something bigger. Nothing is clear, and it’s driving me nuts.

Who is Nico Conti, really? And what the hell have I gotten myself into?

Frustrated, I slam my MacBook shut and fall back onto the bed, letting out an exasperated sigh. I’m still practically buzzing from the sex, and even though I know it’s a terrible idea, I want him again. The memory of his hands on my body, the way he took control, how he filled me so completely—it’s all I can think about.

I close my eyes, letting those memories wash over me. I can still feel the way he moved inside me, the way his muscles tensed with every thrust, the low growl of his voice in my ear as he pushed me closer to the edge. The way he looked at me, like he was hungry for more, and the way he made me feel—so wanted, so alive, so completely his in that moment.

A big, stupid smile spreads across my face as I relive every delicious detail. Despite everything, despite the confusion and chaos, I can’t deny how incredible it was.

As I drift off to sleep, those memories play like a highlight reel in my mind, and I’m left with one delicious thought: I want him again.

It’s early Saturday morning, and I’m stepping into the home gym at the Conti estate just in time for sunrise—the perfect time for yoga.

One of the perks of this job is access to this gym. It has everything you could possibly want—weights, cardio machines, and a huge open, matted space just begging for a good stretch session.

The view is the cherry on top—a stunning snowy garden that looks like something out of a movie. It’s serene, and just what I need to clear my head after the craziness of last night. I set up my laptop on a bench, ready to film some yoga content to edit for YouTube later.

I hit record on my camera, flashing a smile at the lens.“Good morning, yogis! Today, we’re kicking off with a sunrise flow to wake up the body and clear the mind. Perfect for those frosty mornings when you need a little extra warmth from within.”

I step onto the mat, taking a deep breath. “We’ll start with some gentle stretches to get the blood flowing, then move into a dynamic Vinyasa sequence to really build some heat. Think lots of sun salutations, warrior poses, and a killer core sequence to finish it off. By the end of this session, you’ll feel energized, grounded, and ready to tackle whatever the day throws at you.”

I move into a gentle cat-cow stretch, feeling the tension in my back start to melt away. “Grab your mat, find a comfy spot, and let’s flow together.”

I go through my routine, starting with a few deep breaths and some gentle stretches.

But as I go through the poses, my mind drifts back to Nico, the memory of his hands on my body, the way he looked at me with that intense gaze. A rush of heat spreads through me, and I find myself biting my lower lip in arousal, totally distracted. My focus slips, and before I know it, I’m wobbling right out of Warrior pose, toppling into a heap on the mat.

“Ugh,” I groan., sighing at my clumsiness. “Guess I’ll have to edit that little tumble out later.” I shake it off and get back into position, pushing through the rest of my routine, even as thoughts of my boss linger at the edges of my mind..

As I finish, I close my eyes and imagine my future—a cute little studio in the West Village, a business that’s all mine. Yoga wouldn’t just be a hobby anymore; it’d be my life.

When I’m done, I close my laptop, feeling good and limber, even if my mind is still half lost in a certain someone. I jump onto the treadmill for a quick burst of cardio, just enough to get my heart pumping.

As I’m hitting my stride, my phone alarm goes off, snapping me back to reality. Almost time to get the girls up and the day started. I slow down, reaching for my phone to silence the alarm, but another chime interrupts me—this one’s a message from Ms. M.

Mr. Conti gave the OK for Christmas decor , it reads. You can drive the girls wherever you need to get it.

A grin spreads across my face. The whole situation is complicated, no doubt, but at least I’ve got something fun to focus on today. I hop off the treadmill, practically bouncing with excitement as I head into the private shower. The warm water cascades over me, washing away the sweat and lingering tension from my workout..

Maybe I can turn this insane situation into something halfway normal.