by Amy DeLuca
“A pony!”
“Yay!”
The delighted exclamations had come not from the third floor but far below on the first. The girls must have hidden inside the elevator instead of exiting it then taken it down to the ground level.
They tricked me.
Cursing himself for a fool, Sully sprinted for the staircase again, jogging down it as his frustration level grew.
When he caught up to them, there would have to be consequences… of some kind.
He wasn’t sure what exactly. How did you convince a four-year-old and a five-year-old to do anything they didn’t want to do?
At the sound of a door slamming, Sully froze.
Oh no. Had they left the house? His frustration converted to panic, and his jog turned into a full speed downstairs run.
Bellevue Avenue, while beautiful, was a busy street, populated at all hours of the day by tourists from around the world, many of whom weren’t used to driving on the right side of the road and most of whom had their eyes glued to the gorgeous historic mansions that lined the streets instead of watching where they were going.
What if Skyla and Claire darted out in front of a car?
What if some fool driver was checking his texts instead of looking out for pedestrians?
Sully’s heart pounded to the point it was literally moving the front of the uncomfortable button-down dress shirt he’d crammed himself into for the party.
At least the mansion was set far back from the road. His kids might be quick, but he had much longer legs. Once he got into the open, he could kick it into high gear and catch up to them.
But when he skidded to a stop on the marble floor in the entry hall, he saw the front door was still deadbolted. Obviously, the girls hadn’t left that way.
He turned around, calling back through the house. “Claire, baby? Sky? You two still here?”
No answer.
Pulse pounding in his ears, Sully dashed for the back door, finding that one unlocked. He yanked it open and bolted outside into the lingering late-day sunlight.
His eyes scanned the expansive back yard like radar. They wouldn’t head for the far end of the yard, would they?
There was an iron fence separating their lawn from the Cliff Walk and the perilous drop to the ocean just beyond it—but Skyla and Claire were so little. Could they squeeze through the spaces between the bars?
There—a flash of pink caught his eye as it slipped through the tall boxwood hedge that separated his property from the Wessex estate.
Apparently his daughters were interested in attending the party after all. And had decided to go without him. In their nightgowns. Fantastic.
They were probably making a beeline for the cupcake table, where they’d cram the treats into their mouths like they hadn’t been fed all day.
That, in combination with the wild, tangled hair and pajamas in late afternoon might be enough to have Child Protective Services ringing his doorbell come this evening.
So much for making a good impression on the neighbors.
Well, there was nothing to do but go after them… and try to explain to the Wessexes’ lovely guests why he had absolutely zero control over his children.
Approaching the opening in the hedge, Sully discovered he was far too large to make it through. He’d have to go around it instead.
He jogged the depth of the back yard, all the way to the fence where the sound of the ocean crashing at the foot of the cliff was loud and clear.
He slipped around the outer edge of the prickly natural fence and stopped short at the sight of the party in full swing on the Wessex estate.
This was no regular baby shower. The pool was filled with what looked like hundreds of pink and blue balloons. Several large white tents gave shade to tables decorated with flower arrangements and even more balloons.
Under the tents, groups of adults stood holding small plates and drinks and chatting.
There were far more children than he’d expected. They covered the lawn, playing together, shrieking with laughter. Some were jumping in a bouncy house while others crowded around—yes—a pony in a temporary riding ring.
That was where Sully headed, surveying the collection of small bodies for his own offspring.
Among those waiting for a ride was the Wessexes’ son AJ. Sully recognized his tow-headed curls.
The boy’s parents stood nearby. They were side by side, holding hands and laughing at their son’s antics as he cavorted with two other boys in the pony-ride cue.
Cinda wore a maternity dress and was clearly nearing the end of her pregnancy. Their obvious happiness caused a twinge of envy in Sully’s gut.
Sorrow too. He and Anouk had been that happy once—at least he’d thought so.
He spotted his daughters near the circular fencing, sticking their arms through it and waving at the bored-looking pony and trying to lure him with sprigs of grass.
Sully picked up his pace, hoping to get to them before they—or he—drew too much attention. There were so many people here. Maybe he could grab his daughters and get them back home before anyone noticed them.
Unfortunately, Alex and Cinda did. Both of them waved at him. Sully sagged and slowed to a walk. There would be no saving this disaster apparently.
The couple offered welcoming smiles as he drew near.
“Mr. Reece,” Cinda said warmly. “I’m so glad you and your daughters could make it.” She tactfully didn’t mention the girls’ inappropriate attire.
Heat flooded his face as he compared their cartoon-character-covered nightgowns with the other children’s fancy party clothes.
What must all the other parents be thinking?
“You’ve been home a good deal more often lately, haven’t you?” Alex asked, extending his hand to shake Sully’s. “It’s nice to see you.”
“Yes. I have. We have. Thanks. And you can call me Sully. Great party. It’s… big.”
“Well, the preschool year just ended, and they needed a place to hold a graduation party,” Cinda explained. “We thought we’d just combine the occasions. The kids won’t care about the gender reveal, of course, but we figured as long as there was a bounce house and plenty of cupcakes they’d have a good time. They’re so cute, aren’t they?” she asked with a wrinkle-nosed smile.
Casting another glance at his girls, who he’d just realized were barefoot for Pete’s sake, he said, “I’m… uh… sorry about how Skyla and Claire look. I’ve been trying to get them dressed all day, but…”
His explanation died right there. But what? What could he say?
But I have no idea what I’m doing, and my four and five-year-old are completely running the show next door?
I’m drowning, and I don’t even know where to find a life preserver?
“Don’t be silly. There’s no need to apologize. We love PJ days at our house—especially lately.” Cinda patted her expansive belly. “It’s about all I have left that fits me at this point.”
“They’re children,” Alex said in a reasonable tone. “Who cares what they wear? We’re just glad you all came.”
“Absolutely. AJ keeps talking about his ‘new friends next door’ and wanting the girls to come over and play,” Cinda said. “I’m not sure whether he’s more excited about becoming a big brother… or about having all the other children over today for ‘his’ party. He certainly won’t notice what they’re wearing.”
“Yes, well, thanks but I’d still like to take them home and get them properly dressed. We’ll come back afterward,” Sully promised.
Cinda put a hand on his arm and offered a sympathetic smile. “It’s really not necessary. But do whatever makes you comfortable. We won’t do the big reveal for about another hour.”
“Okay, well, thanks for inviting us. We’ll be back soon. And again, I’m sorry.”
Sully stepped away from them toward the pony ring. “Claire. Skyla. I need to talk to you two please.”
At the sound of their father’s stern voice, th
e girls turned around.
“No,” Skyla screeched. “I want to stay at the party.”
“Me too.” Claire echoed her big sister as usual.
“We’ll come back. I promise.” In a lower voice Sully said, “We just need to get some real clothes and shoes on you and brush your hair.”
“You do it all wrong,” Skyla accused loudly. “It huuuuurts when you brush my hair.”
“Me too. It huuuuurts,” Claire added in a perfect imitation of her idol’s whine.
Sully looked around uncomfortably at the other party guests, some of whom had definitely heard the charges against him.
Yep. CPS would be at his door tonight for sure.
Putting on her brattiest tone and face, Skyla shouted, “I want Mommy to brush my hair,” then took off running toward the bouncy house with Claire hot on her little bare heels.
Sully cast his eyes skyward in a silent prayer before following them across the yard. He really did need some divine intervention—he was at his absolute wits’ end.
Things had gotten progressively worse over the past few days.
He knew his children’s behavior was unacceptable, but knowing something and knowing how to fix it were two different things entirely.
And he was pretty sure his daughters’ acting out was driven largely by their abrupt change in living circumstances—and missing their mom—which broke his heart.
There was nothing he could do about that, but he did have to find a healthier way to relate to them—and pick up some discipline skills. Fast.
Reaching the bounce house, Sully stood outside one of the mesh windows and called to the girls. “We’ll go home, change real quick, and come back. But only if you get out of there right now and come with me.”
“I. Want. To. Keep. On. Bounce. Ing.”
Skyla’s words came out individually in time with each jump. Her messy mop of dark hair lifted each time her little feet came off the inflated canvas floor.
“I mean it now,” Sully warned. “If you two don’t listen to me, I’ll…”
What? What would he do? He honestly didn’t know what to say.
He looked up again, as if the answer might be written on the fluffy white clouds overhead. Not that he’d gotten a whole lot of response from that direction lately.
Please. Just a little help here…
“Kids that age can be a handful, huh?”
Sully turned to see the owner of the shy voice that had spoken near his right shoulder.
And his jaw literally fell open.
There, standing in front of him, was the prettiest human being he’d ever seen in his life.
The young woman appeared to be about three or four years younger than him. Twenty-two? Twenty-three?
“Uh… yeah,” he said.
That was about all he could say because for the first time in his life—he was utterly speechless. If he didn’t know better, he’d have sworn he was looking at a real-life angel.
She wore a simple dress. Yellow and sleeveless, it reached nearly to her knees. Being a fashion model, Anouk would have known what to call the style—he didn’t, but whatever it was, it looked great on her, hinting at a shapely figure but not flaunting it.
Her long golden hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore no makeup as far as he could tell.
Her big, light brown eyes didn’t need it—they were gorgeous.
As far as jewelry, she had on only a pair of tiny diamond studs. No rings. He checked.
She looked classy and sweet and… fresh. Yeah, that was the word. Like sunshine and sea breezes and just-picked citrus fruit.
Wait—what had gotten into him? He was the furthest thing from a poet. He wasn’t usually tongue-tied either.
Normally, he was great with women. This one must have thought he was a total imbecile.
“Are you… is one of these kids yours?” he finally managed to ask.
Please say no.
She smiled. “They all are.”
Sully did a double take, looking from the crowded bouncy house to her and back again.
Some of the kids hopping around inside had to be close to eight. And there were so many. How could they possibly all be—
“I’m their teacher—or I was their teacher at some point during the past few years. At the preschool, you know?”
“Oh.” Now he got it. “Fantastic. You’re a preschool teacher. My youngest is starting preschool in the fall. Where do you teach?”
This time her smile looked a little sad. “I’m just an assistant teacher actually—was an assistant. I won’t be going back after the summer break.”
“Get a new job?” he asked.
Her lips twisted to the side, and she looked away toward the back of the Wessex mansion.
“Something like that.”
Okay. She didn’t seem to want to talk about it—maybe she got fired? He dropped the subject.
“I’m Sullivan. Reece. Sullivan Reece. I live next door.”
She took his offered hand, which he realized with embarrassment had started to sweat. Another first.
“Daddy watch me,” Claire called, jerking his attention back to the bounce house.
She was jumping so vigorously, her nightgown flapped above her head, exposing her underwear.
At least she was wearing some. If she hadn’t been, he might have just given up and turned in his dad-card then and there.
Twisting back toward the woman, he tipped his palms up and shrugged. “I’ve been trying to get them to go home and put on some clothes and shoes, but I’m striking out. You must think I’m a terrible father.”
Her eyes warmed. “Not at all. You wouldn’t believe how many kids I’ve seen show up for school in footy pajamas.”
Her lips quirked in the cutest way. “PJ’s are comfy. Comfy is good.” There was a pause. “Not listening to Daddy is not good.”
Stepping forward, she ducked to poke her head inside the bounce house’s door flaps. “Who wants to play a super-fun game?”
There was a chorus of answers. “Me!”
“I do.”
“I want to do a game.”
All but the two oldest-looking kids spilled out of the bouncer.
The children, including Skyla and Claire, quieted and watched Angelina as if she might suddenly sprout wings and rise off the ground.
Sully wasn’t at all certain she wouldn’t.
Though her voice was soft and sweet, it also held an impressive degree of authority. Her command of the children’s attention was nothing short of magical.
“Somewhere in this yard, I have hidden—very carefully—a treasure,” she told them, whispering the last word.
Eyes lit up all around.
“I’ll divide you into two teams, and we’re going to have a treasure hunt.”
There were cheers and shrieks of delight. Angelina quieted them all with nothing but a look and a subtle hand gesture.
“Now to find this treasure, you’ll need the clues that I’ll pass out to each team—and a good pair of shoes. Is everyone ready? Okay, get your shoes on and let’s go.”
“Wait,” Claire cried, sounding distressed. “I got no shoes.”
“You have no shoes,” Angelina corrected gently. “Did you take them off here at the party?”
“No, they’re at our house,” Skyla answered.
“Oh dear.” Angelina furrowed her brow. “That’s a problem.”
She appeared to think for a minute, tapping her chin with one finger.
“Maybe we could delay the treasure hunt for just a few minutes… if you think you can go and get them on very quickly. And treasure hunting will be difficult in your nightgowns, so some regular clothes would be good, too.”
“We can be fast,” Skyla assured her.
“Fast,” Claire repeated, hopping in excitement.
“Okay then, I’ll time you and see how fast you are. Ready, set… go!”
The girls took off, speeding toward the narrow hedge opening that led t
o their own back yard.
“You’re a miracle worker,” Sully said in amazement, belatedly realizing he should be following his daughters.
Jogging backward, he kept his gaze on the young teacher. The setting sun behind her caused her blonde hair to glow like a halo around her beautiful face.
“Hey— I never got your name,” he said.
She waited a beat before answering. “It’s Angelina.”
All the air left Sully’s lungs as if he’d taken a powerful body blow.
As he turned and ran to catch up with his girls, he glanced overhead once more, and this time he pointed up with a laugh and a knowing smile.
“You were listening. I owe you one, Big Guy. I definitely owe you one.”
Thank you so much for reading The Billionaire’s Blue Blood. I hope you loved it. The Newport Billionaires series continues! Up next is Book 4, The Billionaire’s Heart of Gold, available now on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited! It’s Sully’s story and a loose retelling of Rapunzel.
The Billionaire’s Heart of Gold
She’s been locked away in a tower of loneliness…
Angelina Rappaport is more than sheltered—she’s been practically sequestered her whole life. Constantly warned by her eccentric and reclusive mother against the “dangers of the world,” Angelina was only allowed outside her home to attend a strict girls’ school. No parties. No sleepovers. NO boys.
Ever.
Even now in her early twenties, the extent of her social life is spending time with the adorable children at the preschool where she works. She’s hardly ever spoken to a man, except for the occasional morning greeting with the fathers of her students.
And soon, she’ll obey her mother’s wishes and enter religious service, training to be a nun.
But gazing out her bedroom window in the turret of her family’s Newport, Rhode Island mansion, Angelina dreams of a different life, one that involves freedom, adventure, love, and children of her own.
She at least wants a kiss before she gives up and follows her mother’s plan for her life.
He’d love to help her let her hair down…
Heavyweight boxing champion Sullivan Reece needs help—big time.
