Chapter 3: The Command Wrapped in Silk
Thirty minutes later, the girl sat in a leather chair across from Matteo’s desk in his private study. The room smelled of cedar, leather, and cigar smoke. Leo was finally asleep down the hall, refusing to let go of her hand until his eyes closed.
Matteo opened the file his assistant had already assembled.
“Cameron Jenkins,” he said. She looked up, trying to hide her fear. “You’re twenty-three. You live in a studio apartment in Queens. You left college two years ago.”
“My mother got sick.”
“Mount Sinai,” Matteo noted. “Experimental treatment. No insurance coverage. Seventy-three thousand dollars in medical debt. Late rent. Two collection notices.”
Cameron’s cheeks colored. “Mr. Duca, if this is about today, I’m sorry if I crossed a line. I wasn’t trying to—”
“I’m paying your mother’s debt.”
She stopped speaking.
“You will move into this residence immediately,” he said, his voice a calm command. “Your salary will be ten thousand dollars a week.”
Cameron stared at him. “I’m not a nanny. I don't have credentials.”
“My son kissed your cheek. The nannies failed.”
“Sir, I don’t know why he responded to me. I can’t promise—”
“You do not need to promise,” Matteo interrupted, his hard face softening just a fraction. “You need to stay.”
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He was a dangerous man—the kind the newspapers called a "developer" but the streets of Brooklyn called something entirely different. Yet underneath the silk command, Cameron heard the crack in his armor. He sounded like a father who had run out of hope.
Thinking of her mother's hospital bills, Cameron nodded. “I’ll stay.”
