9. Gabriel

9

GAbrIEL

I wake up the morning of Bella’s first day feeling more anxious than I have in a long time.

Deep down, I know this was the right choice. I wouldn’t have offered her the job if I didn’t feel sure of it. But I could see her uncertainty the first time she ate dinner with all of us, her nervousness. And Cecelia was more contentious about it all than I had expected her to be.

I’d expected something like that, though. I’d tried to make it clear that Bella was in no way a replacement for their mother—or Agnes, for that matter—but it was always going to be difficult to bring in someone new to care for them. But her attitude at the dinner table last night left me with flickers of anxiety that this might have been the wrong choice.

My alarm goes off at six like it always does, and I get out of bed, going to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face before changing into my workout clothes. The house is still quiet at this hour, and I walk down the stairs without turning on any lights, enjoying the cool, dim silence of the house before Agnes comes in in about an hour to start working on breakfast. I go all the way down to the gym in the basement, finally switching on the lights.

The home gym is one of the things I most carefully curated in this house, along with the library and the movie room. It’s large, with plenty of room to spread out everything I might need. On one side, there are thick mats laid down for stretching, ground exercises and martial arts training, with a boxing bag dangling at the far end. There’s a treadmill and a stationary bike—although, like Bella, if I want to do cardio, I’d rather go outside and run. One wall is fully mirrored, with a rack of free weights, a squat rack, and several assorted weight machines. Pretty much anything I might want to do, in terms of fitness, I can do down here.

Once I fall into my morning workout routine, a lot of the stress fades. I stretch, do a few rounds on the boxing bag for cardio, and then lift weights until my alarm goes off. By then, I’m drenched in sweat, my muscles are pleasantly sore, and my nerves are eased. I’m better able to focus on the day ahead, and I try to keep my mind on that as I go upstairs to shower—and not the beautiful girl sleeping on the next floor.

Don’t think about it, I remind myself, pushing the heel of my hand against my swelling cock as I step into the shower. My arousal has become more insistent in the past days, as if being around Bella has woken up the long-dormant desire that hasn’t bothered me much over the past years—except now, the bother is that I feel this way. I don’t want to feel an attraction to her, not least of which because it seems wrong in so many ways. She’s younger than I am, although not by a drastic amount—and I’m also her employer. She trusted me enough to take this job, to come and live here in my house, ostensibly under the impression that I wouldn’t take advantage of her or try to seduce her.

To me, jerking off in the shower thinking about her feels like it crosses that line, even if she were to never know about it.

But fuck , if it isn’t harder to keep my hands off of myself than it has been in a long time. The adrenaline from the workout only makes it more difficult—I always used to come upstairs from my workouts to the woman sleeping warmly in our bed, eager to wake her up before I left for work.

And just like that, the arousal vanishes, replaced by the heavy weight of remembered grief in my chest and guilt for thinking about Bella that way in the first place. I finish rinsing off, all thoughts of physical pleasure gone, and switch off the water, drying off and getting dressed in record time.

Downstairs, Agnes already has a breakfast burrito and coffee waiting for me on the table. “You’re too good to me,” I tell her, bending to drop a kiss on her weathered cheek before sitting down. She’s long since stopped being an employee to me, and fills the role of the female family that I no longer have—my grandmother and mother have passed, and my mother was an only child.

“You stop that. You deserve all that and more,” she tells me, patting me on the shoulder. “When did you tell Bella to come down?”

“I told her that Danny and Cecelia usually get up around eight, or a little after.” I check my watch. “It’s only seven-thirty now.” I glance over at her. “What do you think?”

“About Miss Bella?” Agnes raises an eyebrow. “She is awfully pretty. And young. And not engaged, based on the lack of a ring and the fact that she’s here at all?—”

“Don’t start,” I groan, shaking my head and reaching for my coffee. “She’s the nanny, Agnes. My employee .”

“So am I,” Agnes points out. “And you don’t treat Aldo or me like staff.”

“No, I treat you like a part of the family. Which I intend to treat Bella as, as well. Just—not that.” I frown at her. “Why do I feel like you don’t believe me?”

Agnes shrugs, a mischievous smile still at the corners of her mouth. “I’m just saying that it’s surprising to me that her father allowed this. A young, unmarried woman working as a nanny? From the D’Amelio family? I don’t know everything about the circles you run in, Gabriel, but I know enough over the years from working for your parents, and now you—her father is setting something up. Or you are, and you just don’t want to admit it.”

“I’m not,” I tell her firmly. “This has nothing to do with that, and everything to do with the fact that I don’t want to marry again. And as for her father—” I shake my head. “I’m sure he would give her to me if I asked, but there’s no ulterior motive. I feel sure of that.”

“Mhmm.” Agnes still has that creased smirk at the corners of her mouth. “Of course.”

I sigh, reaching for one half of my burrito. “I meant, what do you think about her so far. And how well she’ll do at what I actually hired her for.”

Agnes purses her lips. “She’s a nervous little thing. And Cecelia isn’t her biggest fan. I think she might try to take advantage of that anxiety the girl has—jumpy as a rabbit. But all this is new to her—new home, new job—so I can understand it. She seems happy enough to be here, so I’m sure as soon as she settles in, it’ll all be well.”

I can feel myself relax a little at that. Agnes is a good judge of character, and her approval means a lot. “Good,” I tell her, taking a bite out of my burrito. “We’ll see how today goes, then.”

My mind lingers on how things are going throughout the day, flickers of worry darting in as I sit in on video call meetings and go through paperwork. It’s a boring day, very little to do other than sit in my office and catch up on correspondence, and by the time I’ve finished enough to head home, I’m ready to get back to the house and find out how the day has gone there. Agnes knows to call me if anything goes wrong, and I didn’t receive so much as a text from her, so I’m assuming all is well.

That’s only confirmed when I walk into the house, and I’m immediately assailed by both of my children flinging themselves at me happily. I see Bella trailing a little bit behind them, a tentative smile on her face, only to see her stop in her tracks, her hand pressing to her ribs as that smile falls.

I’m not entirely sure I believe her when she says it’s just a headache from the sun. Something felt off. But everything she tells me is good, the first day apparently seamless, and I dismiss that fleeting concern.

I don’t see her again until just before dinner. I’m in the living room, flipping idly through a book I picked up on the history of naval trade, when I see her walk past on her way to the stairs.

She must have just come in from a run. She’s wearing more form-fitting clothing than usual—a pair of tight black leggings and a long-sleeved shirt that was probably loose when she started out, but is now clinging to her body with sweat. Her clothing choices always confuse me—it’s far too warm out to run in a long-sleeved shirt—but that thought is quickly overrun by the quickening of my pulse as my gaze sweeps over her.

She’s more beautiful than any woman should be. Her chestnut brown hair is up in a high ponytail, bits of it sticking to her cheeks and the nape of her neck, and my fingers suddenly tingle with the urge to brush them along her skin and sweep those fine bits of hair back. Her skin would be hot and damp—and with that thought, my cock is instantly rock hard.

Fuck. I grit my teeth, and for a brief moment, I can’t bring myself to look away. My eyes sweep over the curves of her thighs and ass, hungrily taking her in—and then I realize what I’m doing as my cock throbs painfully.

I look away, shaking my head in an effort to clear it. When I glance back, she’s gone, headed up the stairs, and I lean my head back against the armchair, trying to tamp down my arousal. I can feel my cock straining against my fly, hard and eager, and the desire feels far stronger than anything I’ve felt in recent memory.

After a few minutes of scanning the pages of my book, trying to focus on the details of historical ship rigging instead of the perfect shape of Bella’s ass and the softness of her hair clinging to her neck, my arousal finally eases. I sink back into reading, pushing all inappropriate thoughts away, and stay there until it’s time for dinner.

When I walk into the dining room, Bella is already there, helping Agnes and the children set the table. I’m surprised to see her jump into helping so quickly—this isn’t exactly part of her job description—but it’s clear that she wants to be a part of things, and pitch in wherever she can. It’s what I want, too, and I feel a warm flush of pleasure at how easily things seem to be falling into place. I notice that she’s changed into a pair of loose joggers and a long-sleeved t-shirt a size too big for her tucked into the waist, and all I can feel is relief.

Agnes brings in the main course—a glazed pork tenderloin with mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables for sides—and a decanter of wine along with a pitcher of water. Aldo comes in from the backdoor, his hair still damp from the shower, and sits down next to Agnes as we all take a seat at the table.

I was glad that Bella accepted the invitation to dinner two nights in a row—I hope it means that she’ll eat dinner with the family on a regular basis. I find myself looking over at her as the dishes are passed around, and I tell myself that the reason I’m so glad of it is that the more often she shares time with the family, the more stability there will be between her and the children. It’s not just because I like having her around, I tell myself, but it’s hard to deny that that’s also the truth. She’s still a bit nervous and jittery, something that I notice now that Agnes has pointed it out, but she seems more at ease than she was yesterday.

“Are you settling in alright?” I ask her, once the food is dished out and I’ve poured myself a glass of wine. Agnes and Aldo both pour themselves each one as well, but Bella declines. “Is there anything that you need?”

Bella shakes her head. “No, everything is perfect,” she assures me. “I don’t have any complaints.”

“I saw you went out for a run. Did you enjoy getting to see the grounds?” Inwardly, I’m kicking myself for asking the question as I say it—the last thing I need is to recall the sight of Bella coming back inside in her running clothes again.

Bella nods. “It’s beautiful. The gardens are lovely—I want to go out and take some pictures.”

“You like photography?” I ask, and Bella flinches slightly, as if I’ve asked something wrong. But she recovers so quickly that I almost wonder if I imagined it, and she nods.

“From time to time,” she says flippantly. “The path is a really nice running trail, though. I’ll definitely use it more often.”

I find it curious how quickly she moved past the topic of taking photos, especially since it seemed to interest her so much. But it’s clear that she didn’t want to keep talking about it, so I leave it alone.

Cecelia tells me about the baseball ‘practice’ that they had outside, and going for a swim. Bella chimes in occasionally, complimenting Danny’s throwing skills, and filling in the details of the nature documentary that they watched.

It impresses me how easily she’s fallen into a rhythm with both of them. Even Cecelia seems to have warmed up to her quickly. And despite her obvious nerves, there’s a brightness to her that adds something to the dinner conversation. I find that I like having her here, as much as I did during our ‘business’ dinner.

If things continue on like this, I think, reaching for my wine glass, I’ll want her to stay for as long as she possibly can.

Masseo won’t be pleased with that. But I know his weakness is money, and connections. If I can offer him either—or both—of those things to keep Bella on as long as she wants to stay, I might be able to talk him into it.

Of course, the problem is that if Bella stays for a long time—years, even, until the children don’t need her any longer—arranging a marriage for her will be much harder. It’s ridiculous to me in the extreme, but most men in the world she occupies have no interest in a woman nearing or in her thirties, not unless she’s a widow. Bella will struggle to make a match, and I have no doubt that will influence Masseo’s decision.

I’ll worry about it when the time comes, I tell myself. For now, Bella and the children are happy and thriving, and Masseo is pleased with what I’ve paid him for Bella’s first month’s employment. I don’t doubt that money is going directly into his pockets, and not into a trust fund for Bella, but everything Bella needs is here. That’s another problem I can address later, if need be.

“What do you say to a movie?” I ask Danny and Cecelia as we’re finishing dessert, and Danny lets out a small cheer, Cecelia nodding eagerly. I glance over at Bella. “Do you want to join us?”

She hesitates for just a second, and then nods. “Sure,” she agrees, and then stands up. I can’t help but notice that she’s only eaten a very small amount of the fudge brownie that Agnes served for dessert. She only picked at her dinner, as well. For all that she claims she doesn’t have any food aversions, she seems to have a hard time eating.

It’s just part of her settling in. It’s clear that she has some anxiety, but it hasn’t affected anything important, so I don’t ask her about it. If she wants to tell me, I assume, then she will.

We all help Agnes clear the table, and then the four of us head to the movie room, after the children tell Agnes and Aldo good night. I pick out a cartoon that I know they both like, pop some popcorn, and let them pick out a box of candy to split. Bella curls up on the opposite end of the couch from where I’m sitting with Cecelia and Danny, but as I dim the lights, I can see that she’s relaxed into her corner of the couch, a blanket tugged up over her feet and a glimmer of a smile on her face.

I can see her relaxing throughout the movie, even laughing occasionally, leaning over to whisper something to Cecelia during a particularly funny moment. I find myself glancing over at her, and seeing her interact with my children, seeing her making them smile, fills something in my chest that has been aching for a very long time.

When the movie is over, Bella gets up, folding her blanket. “I’ll take them upstairs and get them ready for bed,” she tells me, and Cecelia and Danny both lean over for kisses goodnight, before Bella corralls them to take them up to bed. I watch as she ushers them out, and a sense of peace washes over me.

This was a good decision, I can’t help but think, as the door closes behind them.

I feel better than I have in a long time.