“Neither do I.”
“We don’t know if this half-brother could be older or younger than you?”
“We don’t. I’m going to have to take some time and look through Eduardo’s things.” I’ll ask Cristiano to help. The shitty thing about it, though, is we don’t know what we’re looking for, and we also have to keep tabs on my men.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
I’m tempted to ask her to stay, but I can’t do that to her. I wouldn’t be asking her to stay for Mia; it would be for me.
“No. It’s in hand. I’ve already kept you from sleeping, and it’s late.” It’s nearly eleven.
She grimaces and shakes her head with dismay. “It’s not you who kept me from sleeping. It’s that nanny of yours.”
My nanny.
I have purposely pushed Lucia out of my mind all day. Just the mention of her name brings forth last night’s memories with a vengeance, and my fucking dick twitches as all the blood rushes to harden it up.
“What happened?”
“No offense to your mother, she was one of the nicest people I’ve ever met in my life, but I practically raised you boys with tried and tested methods children need for stability and discipline.”
I stifle a groan because I suspect I know where this is leading.
“You did.” I happen to disagree with some of those methods, but since Eduardo and me were known for how disciplined we were, I can’t exactly refute.
“I’m glad you agree. So, I can’t condone rushing into a child’s bedroom just because they cry out every half second, or making them the master of you. That is not discipline. And for that matter, children need to learn to eat everything you give them. When they don’t, they grow up fussy and malnourished.”
“What did Lucia do, Estelle?” I steer her toward getting to the point.
“She’s in Mia’s room now, singing her to sleep and reading some book.”
Lucia can sing?
“And at dinner, she insisted that Mia not have the fish just because the baby didn’t like it, and she cooked separate,” she huffs. “I know I sound petty, but these little things count. They are the things that become bigger.”
She actually looks furious.
“I’ll speak to her.” I straighten.
“Alejandro,” she intercedes before I can walk away, and her face takes on a different expression. One of worry but also of suspicion. “On the back of what I said yesterday I’m going to tell you I don’t trust her.”
That gives me pause because her complaints about Lucia sound like someone over-caring about my child.
“Why?”
“There’s something about her that’s off.”
I give her a narrowed look and try to stave off the feeling I have about Lucia, too. I don’t know what exactly it was I felt last night, or rather from the day I met her, but I sensed something. The same something that got me to ask Eric to dig deeper and check her out.
But there was nothing to find, and I can’t factor in paranoia at a time like this.
“She was on a call earlier today, a rather heated discussion. She said she was speaking to her father, but I didn’t get the impression she was.”
“What did she say?”
“I was too far away to hear. It was just the tone of her voice and the way she looked after. Drained and angry.”
I bite my bottom lip and set my shoulders back. I’m listening and taking in her words, but there’s nothing amiss in what she’s saying for me to do anything about it. In fact, it seems like Estelle was eavesdropping, and she shouldn’t have been.