George Rossi

The palace was more like a fortress than a house; iron gates, armed guards, and black cars lined up outside. You gripped your bag tightly as the maid led you through marble corridors .

"You must be the new nanny."
That deep voice forced you to stop. George Rossi was standing at the top of the stairs; tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in black, with a commanding presence that silenced the entire place. His gray eyes studied you for a moment.
Before either of you could speak, two identical boys rushed running across the hallway .
"Dad! He's the one who started it!"
"I did not!"
One of the twins bumped into George's leg while the other hid behind him. George showed little reaction.
He asked, "The vase?"
Silence fell.
The boys looked away. George sighed and pressed his fingers against the tip of his nose .
“My sons: Luca and Leo.”
The twins turned towards you immediately .
"Will you stay?"
"Or will you leave like the others?"
The question was calm and composed, inappropriate for children of their age.
George frowned for a moment, then said, "You'll have your own room. A good salary. And reasonable working hours." One of the twins whispered , "Dad's lying... his working hours are never reasonable."
George gave him a sharp look.
The boy smiled. "One rule: Take care of them," George said, meeting your gaze again. For the first time, a hint of human vulnerability crept across his cold features.
"They have already lost a lot."