The Untouchable Boss
The Romano mansion sat at the very edge of the city, towering walls of stone and steel guarding secrets too dark for daylight. Inside, silence ruled like a king—except for the occasional shrill cry of a little girl.
Dante Romano, the man feared across the underworld, was losing the one battle he never thought possible.
With a hand pressed against his temple, he growled, "Sophia… for the love of God, just sit still."
His five-year-old daughter scowled back at him, her small arms crossed. "You promised Mama would be here. You're a liar!"
The words cut deeper than bullets. His late wife's absence was a wound Dante carried daily, but Sophia's tantrums made it bleed anew.
A knock echoed at the grand doors. Heavy. Hesitant.
Dante turned, irritation flashing in his storm-grey eyes. "Who the hell comes here without an invitation?"
Carlo, his most trusted guard, stepped in. "Boss, it's about the nanny position. A young woman is here."
Dante's jaw tightened. He'd put out the call weeks ago, but everyone in the city was too afraid to work under the Mafia king. This one must either be desperate… or stupid.
"Send her in," he ordered, his tone like steel.
Moments later, the doors creaked open. A slender woman stepped inside, clutching her worn handbag with both hands. She had wide, uncertain brown eyes that flicked nervously around the room, yet there was a quiet strength in the way she stood.
"Elena Cruz," she introduced herself, her voice soft but steady.
Dante's gaze swept over her. Too young. Too fragile. She wouldn't last a week.
"You understand who I am?" His voice was low, dangerous.
Elena nodded. "Yes, Mr. Romano."
"And you're still here?" He leaned back in his chair, watching her like a hawk waiting for weakness.
Elena swallowed hard. "I need the job. And your daughter needs someone who isn't afraid of her."
For the first time in months, Dante felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Brave words for a woman standing in the lion's den.
Sophia peeked from behind the staircase, her small face twisted in suspicion. "Papa, I don't like her. She looks boring."
Elena crouched down, ignoring the danger in the room, and looked the child in the eyes. "Well, good. I don't like boring children either."
Sophia blinked. Then, for the first time that day, she laughed.
Dante's cold expression faltered. Just a fraction.
This woman… might be different.
But in his world, different could mean dangerous.
The black Lamborghini purred to a stop in front of the grand Castello Romano mansion. The heavy iron gates closed behind it, sealing the world outside.
Inside the car, Dante Romano, the youngest Mafia boss Italy had ever known at just 32, removed his sunglasses. His sharp jawline and cold grey eyes were enough to make even his most loyal men nervous. Yet, the only person who could soften that hardened look sat in the backseat—his 5-year-old daughter, Arianna.
"Papa, will my new nanny be nice?" Arianna asked, hugging her stuffed bunny.
Dante's lips curved faintly, almost into a smile. "She better be. Or she's gone by morning."
The Romano household had seen five nannies in the past three months. None lasted long. Some couldn't handle Arianna's stubbornness; others couldn't survive under Dante's piercing rules. Protecting his daughter was his only weakness, and he trusted no one easily.
That evening, the family's consigliere, Marco, handed Dante a file.
"There's one more candidate. Young, quiet, no family ties. Background check is clean. She needs the job desperately."
Dante leaned back, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Desperation makes people reckless. Bring her in tomorrow. If she survives my daughter—and me—she stays."
The next morning, in front of the Romano mansion, a young woman with nervous eyes and a trembling hand clutched her small handbag. Elena Russo, twenty-four, had no idea that stepping into this house would tie her life to the Mafia forever…