Chapter Two

Drago

I stood by the window, watching as the pale girl was led away.

Angel…That was what she called herself. The name suited her, I supposed. She was almost ethereal, with her fair skin and hair that fell like silk down her back. As the men led her away, her slender figure seemed even more fragile in the dim hallway light. And yet, for all her frailty, there was a fire in her I couldn't ignore.

I had seen people abandon their families for a lot less. They cowered when I came for what was owed, turning their backs on fathers, brothers, and even their own children without so much as a flinch. I had watched men tremble in fear, hand over the lives of those they claimed to love, just to save their own skin. But this girl? She stepped between me and her mother as though she could stop me.

Her mother, Carla, was a useless junkie, someone whose life most people wouldn't bother saving. But Angel hadn't hesitated. She had faced me down with courage that bordered on stupidity.

What intrigued me most was that she wasn't doing it for herself. She hadn't pleaded for her own life even once—she had only asked for mercy for her mother. I saw the way her clear blue eyes blazed with defiance even as her voice trembled. She didn't beg, didn't cry. She just…stood there. It was as if she had resigned herself to whatever fate awaited her, as long as it saved her mother. She was a rarity, indeed. Especially for someone barely off the streets, someone who had lived a life steeped in hardship. I wondered, briefly, if she was an albino. Her skin was so pale, almost translucent, and her hair was the color of fresh snow. Most people would never guess she was Italian just by looking at her. She didn't belong here, in this world of shadows and cruelty.

As I thought more about her, something inside me shifted. There was potential in her. Not just as leverage to control Carla, but something more. I had been searching for the right person to care for my children, someone who could manage Liliana's sharp tongue and Marco's timid nature. The nannies who came before had been failures—unimpressive and too soft. None of them had lasted. None of them had been worthy of my legacy. But Angel…there was something different about her. She had spirit, and despite her circumstances, there was a light inside her. My children needed that light, that angelic fire if I could call it that, even if they didn't know it.

Yes. She would do perfectly.

I pressed the button on my desk, summoning one of my staff. When one of the older housemaids appeared, I gave my orders. "Take a hot supper to the girl in the suite. Make sure she has everything she needs for tonight—fresh linens, toiletries. Ask her what size she wears and bring her a full wardrobe by tomorrow."

The maid nodded, waiting for more. I added, "Until you can gather new clothes, take her a selection from my wife's closet. She's smaller than Domenica was, but the girl can take what she wants."

The maid's eyebrows rose, but she quickly schooled her expression and left. It didn't matter. I wasn't sentimental about Domenica's things. The closet was full of items I hadn't touched since her death. Let Angel wear them. They were just clothes, after all.

With the arrangements made, I retired for the night. I expected to sleep easily, the way I always did, but as I lay in bed, I found my thoughts circling back to Angel. The way she had stood her ground despite the fear I had seen in her eyes. The stubbornness that had kept her from begging, even when her situation had become hopeless. She was different, and I couldn't shake the feeling of curiosity gnawing at the edges of my mind.

The morning came quickly, and with it, a renewed sense of purpose. I had made a decision, and I intended to see it through. My children needed stability, and Angel was going to provide that, whether she liked it or not.

I made sure the cook prepared a lavish breakfast—the kind of spread few could refuse. pancetta, fresh eggs, ricotta pancakes, fruit, pastries, and the strongest espresso to rouse even the most fatigued. I intended to show Angel the benefits of playing by my rules.

The servants brought her down shortly after. As she entered the room, I couldn't help but smile at the sight of her. She was still wearing her same dress from last night, complete with food stains, but I noted that her pale hair was freshly washed and brushed. It shimmered in the morning light, cascading down her back like spun moonlight. Stubborn woman. She had access to my wife's entire wardrobe, and yet she had chosen to wear her own dirty clothing rather than submit. A small act of defiance, but one that amused me.

She approached the table cautiously, her blue eyes flicking to the array of food before her. I gestured for her to sit.

"I'm not hungry," she said, her voice soft but firm.

I raised an eyebrow, leaning back in my chair. "Oh? I know you didn't touch the supper I had sent to your room last night. Did you not care for the food? Was something wrong with one of the items?"

Her eyes darted to mine, suspicion clouding them. I listed off the meal, letting her know exactly what she had missed. "Minestrone, veal parmigiana, fresh bread, and tiramisu. You won't find better."

"It wasn't the food," she replied, her voice tight, though she didn't elaborate.

I let out a quiet chuckle, shaking my head at her obstinance. "You should eat, Angel. You're going to need your strength. Starving yourself will only result in your death. And then, how would your mother feel, knowing her daughter committed suicide? Suicide is a sin, you know."

Her expression changed instantly. Her lips pressed together in a thin line, and I could see the flicker of anger and frustration in her eyes. She didn't like being manipulated, but she wasn't stupid either. She knew I was right. Slowly, she sat down and began to fill her plate.

At first, she moved with deliberate care, taking small portions, but I watched her closely. The moment she took her first bite, her composure broke. She was ravenous. I had the staff bring more food as she ate, making sure there was enough to satisfy her hunger. Her stubbornness may have kept her from admitting it, but I could see she was starving.

We ate in silence for a time. I watched her as she picked at the fruit, her movements becoming slower as her hunger subsided. Once her plate was finally empty, she leaned back in her chair, her eyes locking with mine.

"What are you going to do with my mother?" she asked, her voice calm, though I could sense the tension beneath her steady tone. "And what do you want from me?"

I leaned back in my chair, considering her carefully before answering. "Your mother is free of her debt, thanks to you," I began, watching as a small flicker of relief passed over her face. "In exchange for your services, I won't sell to her anymore. She's not my problem now. I can't guarantee she won't go elsewhere for her fix, but as long as you obey the rules, I'll leave her be."

Her hands clenched as she absorbed my words, her mind likely running through the endless possibilities of what her mother might do. I could see the conflict in her eyes—relief tempered by the harsh reality that her mother's addiction wasn't something I could completely control. But Angel didn't let that stop her.

"And what do you want from me?" she asked again, more firmly this time.

A slow smile spread across my lips. "You'll take care of my children. You'll be their nanny. Liliana is six, Marco is four. They've gone through more nannies than I care to count. None of them lasted, but I think you'll be different."

Her eyes widened slightly, clearly not expecting that response. "Your children?" she echoed, her voice filled with confusion.

I nodded, leaning forward. "My children…they've been through enough. They need someone like you, someone who can care for them properly without fear."

Angel blinked, processing my words, but she didn't argue. Instead, she took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as though she had come to terms with her new reality. "I'll do it," she said quietly. "If it keeps my mother safe."

Satisfied with her response, I summoned the servants once more. "Bring the children down," I ordered.

A few moments later, Liliana and Marco entered the room. As always, my staff ensured they were impeccably dressed, and their dark eyes watched me with silent respect. Liliana, ever the serious one, held her little brother's hand as they stood before me.

"Children," I said, gesturing toward Angel, "this is your new nanny. I expect you to behave and make sure this one lasts. I don't want to have to step in again."

Liliana's eyes flicked to Angel, taking her in with the same sharp scrutiny she used on every new nanny. Marco, on the other hand, shifted nervously behind his sister, his gaze flitting back and forth from me to Angel and back again.

Liliana spoke first, her voice quiet but clear. "We'll be good, Papa."

Marco nodded quickly, following his sister's lead as he always did.

Angel rose from her chair and knelt in front of them, her blue eyes softening instantly as she spoke. "Have you had breakfast yet?" she asked gently. They shook their heads in unison, and I watched as Angel's demeanor shifted. The tension she had carried all morning seemed to melt away in the presence of my children. She was a natural, I realized. She had a gift for caring for others, one that even I could see from this brief interaction.

"I'll see to them," she said quietly, rising and turning her attention back to me.

I nodded, satisfied. "Good. My home is fully staffed. The servants are at your disposal for whatever you and the children need. You are free to roam the property, but you will not leave without permission. Understood?"

She nodded in return, her focus entirely on Liliana and Marco now.

With that, I rose from the table, glad to have solved two problems at once. My children were in good hands, and Angel would do exactly what I needed her to do. I had made the right choice. The girl would be perfect for my children, and whether she realized it or not, she had just become an essential piece in the life I was building for them.

The Devil's deal had been struck, and time would tell if Angel would rise to the challenge or break under the weight of my world.