The week passed in a blur of preparations.
I gave notice at the hospital, packed my meager belongings, and said goodbye to the few friends I had made in Boston. Nicholas arranged for movers to transport my things to the estate, though there was not much worth taking. I used part of the money Dante had given me, which I finally accepted after much internal debate, to buy new clothes more suitable for my new position.
Nothing extravagant. Just better quality than I had been able to afford before.
The night before I was to move to the estate, I called my sister.
“Ellie, this is crazy,” she said when I told her about the new job. “You don’t know these people.”
“It’s a good opportunity. The pay is amazing, and they’re covering your tuition.”
“I don’t need some stranger paying my tuition. Something about this feels wrong.”
“It’s just a nanny position for a sweet little boy who needs someone stable in his life.”
“What about his father? What’s he like?”
I hesitated, unsure how to describe Dante Russo in a way that would not alarm her further.
“He’s intense. But he loves his son.”
“Intense how? Is he single? Is he hitting on you?”
“No. It’s not like that.”
Though I could not deny the strange tension that sometimes crackled between us.
“It’s strictly professional.”
She was silent for a moment.
“Just be careful, El. If anything feels off, promise you’ll leave.”
“I promise.”
