THE MAFIA'S NANNY: He Hired Me To Watch His Daughter, Now He's Watching Me

Omoniyi Rose Action

THE MAFIA DON'S BLACK NANNY: I Was Hired To Care For His Daughter, He Made Me Mother Of His ChildI answered an ad for a nanny job. $5,000 a week. Live-in. No experience needed.I thought it was a scam.I am Zara Okoro. 22. Nigerian. Broke international student in New York City. I clean houses, I braid hair, I sell puff-puff on the side to pay my tuition at NYU. My student visa expires in 6 months if I don't find $20,000. My mama in Lagos calls me every day crying, asking when I will make it.So when I saw the ad on Craigslist — "NANNY NEEDED IMMEDIATELY, $5,000/WEEK, MANHATTAN UPPER EAST SIDE, MUST LOVE CHILDREN" — I went. Even though my friend Amaka said "Zara, that is human trafficking."It was not trafficking. It was worse. It was a Mafia mansion.The house was 15,000 square feet. Guards with guns. Cameras everywhere. A chandelier that cost more than my whole village.And him.Lorenzo De Luca. 34 years old. Italian-American. Mafia Underboss. Widower. Single father. The most dangerous and most beautiful man I have ever seen in my life. Black suit, black heart, grey eyes that look through you. Scar on his jaw. Wedding ring still on his finger even though his wife died 2 years ago.He looked at me — natural hair in puff, thrifted dress from Goodwill, plastic slippers — and said: "You are not what I expected."He expected a white blonde nanny with references from Swiss boarding school.He got me. Black. Loud. No filter. No references except "I raised my 5 younger brothers in Ikorodu."His daughter is Sofia De Luca. 4 years old. Half-Italian, half-Angelic. Curly hair like mine. Eyes like his. And she hasn't spoken a single word since her mother died in a car bombing meant for him. 14 months of silence. Doctors, therapists, priests — nothing.Until me.I knelt down and said, "Hi baby, I'm Zara, I will make you jollof rice and tell you story of tortoise."And she looked at me and whispered her first word in over a year: "Mama."The entire house stopped breathing.The head housekeeper cried. The guard dropped his gun. And Lorenzo De Luca looked at me like I just performed miracle and like he wanted to throw me out at same time.He hired me on the spot.But he had rules. Three rules.Rule 1: Don't touch my daughter without asking.Rule 2: Don't ever enter my wing of the house after 9 PM.Rule 3: Don't get pregnant with my child.I laughed when he said Rule 3. "Sir, I came to watch your daughter, not to seduce you. I'm not interested in old men with trust issues."He didn't laugh. He stepped closer, until I could smell his cologne — expensive, dark, dangerous — and said: "You have no idea what you do to a man who hasn't felt anything in two years, little nanny."I should have run that day.But $5,000 a week is $20,000 a month. That's my tuition. That's my mama's rent. That's my papers.So I moved in.Day 2: I broke Rule 1. Sofia had a nightmare and I carried her to my chest and sang Nigerian lullaby until she slept.Day 7: I broke Rule 2. Sofia was sleepwalking, looking for me, and I went to his wing to return her. I saw him coming out of his bathroom, towel around waist, water dripping from his abs, looking at me like I was his next sin.Day 14: He kissed me against the kitchen fridge while Sofia was napping upstairs. He said "This is a mistake, Zara" but his hands were in my hair and his lips were on my neck.Day 30: I am late. Two weeks late. I never miss. I take a pregnancy test in his marble bathroom that is bigger than my apartment in Queens.Positive. Two lines.I am pregnant. With his child.The child of a Mafia Don who told me explicitly: Don't get pregnant with my child.Now I have to tell him. The man who still wears his dead wife's ring. The man whose family killed for less. The man whose daughter already calls me Mama and who watches me on CCTV when he thinks I'm not looking.But that's not even the worst part.His dead wife's family — the Morettis — they want Sofia back. They say a Mafia princess should not be raised by a "ghetto Black nanny from Africa with a student visa." They filed for custody. They will do anything to get her. Even kill.They don't know I'm pregnant. If they know I'm carrying Lorenzo's heir — a Black heir to the De Luca empire — they will kill me too.Lorenzo has to choose. His empire, his bloodline, his dead wife's memory — or me. The nanny he was never supposed to touch. The Black girl who made his mute daughter speak again. The woman who is carrying his second child.He told me not to get pregnant.But I am.And now he says: "You are mine, Zara. You, Sofia, and that baby in your belly. Anyone who tries to take you from me will learn why they call me Il Diavolo. The Devil."This is a BWWM dark romance. No cheating. Possessive, grumpy, broken Mafia single dad falls first and falls harder. Sunshine, sassy, curvy Nigerian nanny heals his daughter and his heart. Forced proximity, live-in nanny, age gap, grumpy x sunshine, Black girl magic, billionaire Mafia romance, pregnancy, single dad, protective hero.If you love: "The

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