The Mafia's Nanny

Like the Star?

If you are going to correct my grammar, spelling, or word choice, then fucking leave. Thanks.

Chapter 1
_________________

My fingers run across the crisp leather armrest, feeling it's cool touch. I am familiar with the feeling of butterflies and sweaty palms as a nervous buzz hangs overhead, but today I don't feel it. I can't feel it.

Today I have a soft smile with a calm and confident posture. The hard training of an all-girls catholic school finally paying off.
Back straight. Shoulders square. Always smile.

At times I am grateful for the rough whispers that are stuck on repeat in the back of my mind, but most days it just haunts me.

My eyes slowly rack up a pair of toned, tan, legs to a fit black skirt that hugged a waist with a thin hourglass curve. Her white blouse tucked at a flat stomach and tightens at the rounded full breast leading to narrow shoulders. Finally, my gaze meets her light brown eyes complimenting the dark auburn hair that falls in soft waves.

I watch myself in the reflection of the glass door a moment longer, lost in the thought of how I will compare with the others. Which was never something I had time for before. It was such a foreign feeling to wonder if I would be pretty enough, because survival didn't depend on looks until adulthood where a women's worth seems be measured by the width of her smile, or the width of which she spreads her legs.

After watching the parade of beautiful women enter this office only to exit a shade redder or with lips pulled into a scowl and heels storming down the hall, I would assume I wasn't the only one here with misleading intentions. They wanted him as a man.

I cannot say that the thought has ever even crossed my mind, but after watching these beautiful women get rejected it gave me a sense of relief that the job offer was legit and not a fraudulent cover for something sinister. Which would ultimately leave me back at the beginning with no leads. Hell, I was lucky enough to know owner of a run-down dinner at the corner of my street, who truly thought I was looking for a new job and gave me a number to call.

"Miss Vega? A Miss Nova Vega?"

My eyes snap up at the sweet voice that has been leading the string of women in and out of the private waiting room. I watch as her short frame comes into the doorway and a gentle smile rests comfortably on her lips. Wrinkles gather in the corner of her eyes and frame her smile making the secretary seem approachable and even loving.

Slowly I rise out of the leather seat feeling the eyes of the leftover applicants on me as I put one foot in front of the other.

"Miss Vega," she repeats but it's no longer a question, "I'm Mrs. Kitchens."

Her thin hand comes out to greet mine as she did all the others. A surprising sly smile slips from me, "Yes, I know. Pleasure to meet you."

Having been the last of several to be called and choosing a seat close to the door I have heard ever introduction she has done this morning with the same smile and same tone every time.

Mrs. Kitchens simply smiles wider, "Likewise. Please follow me."

She doesn't waste time with chit chat as she leads me down a office hall which was unexpectedly quiet but it would make sense he didn't want to do much business with strangers in the office building. Especially when it's as tight as his empire.

Stopping in front of two dark brown doors she knocks loudly before entering.
"Sir, a Miss Nova Vega is here," the elderly women calls as she leads me towards the man sitting at the long wooden desk.