Nanny for the Billionaire

by Jenna Brandt

  “You think some gold-digger from the Bronx scares me?” George said, moving towards her with fury in his eyes. “I’ve squashed bigger bugs than you with the heel of my shoe,” he said grabbing her by the arm.

  “Let go of me,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “I would suggest you do what she says,” Lily said coming up beside them. “She’s our friend.”

  Behind Lily were the other nannies, all glaring at George with dirty looks on their faces and hands on their hips.

  When George didn’t release his grip on Celeste, the oldest nanny, Carol, threatened, “If you don’t leave this instant, we’re going to call the policeman over. He’s just at the other end of the walkway.”

  George glanced around with apprehension. For some reason, he didn’t want an encounter with the police. “Fine, she isn’t worth it, anyway,” he stated snidely, then pushed Celeste away.

  Celeste rubbed her arm where George gripped it.

  “Are you all right,” Lily asked, placing her arm around Celeste.

  “You should leave,” Carol stated firmly, “Make sure we never see you here again, or we’ll call the police.”

  George scurried off, not looking back at the group of nannies.

  Glancing across the playground, Celeste said, “I have to go get Marcus. We have lunch plans with his father.”

  “You’re sure, you’re okay?” Lily asked with concern. “What was that all about?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It was a misunderstanding,” Celeste explained, though it was far more complicated than that.

  “If you need anything, you can call us,” Carol said. “We’re here to listen or lend a hand.”

  “Thank you,” Celeste said to the whole group. “I’m glad we’ve become friends. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  A little while later, Celeste met with Roger for lunch. Though she had put on a brave face, the words stung. She had always wondered if their different worlds would be what kept them apart, and the man’s words put that concern back in her mind.

  Did she want to fit into Roger’s world? Would he want her to? If they both wanted it, would she be accepted by everyone else around them?

  “What are you thinking about?” Roger asked, tilting his head to the side as he scanned her face for an answer.

  “It’s nothing,” Celeste stated dismissively.

  “It was a bad man,” Marcus said, taking a bite of his burger. “He at the park.”

  “What man at the park?” Roger asked defensively. “Was it a reporter?”

  “No, it was nothing like that. It was one of your friends,” Celeste answered, dropping her eyes to the table. She fiddled with her fork, focusing on it rather than Roger’s face.

  “Which friend?”

  “He didn’t give his name.”

  “What did he want?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered.

  “It does matter,” Roger countered. When she didn’t answer, he added, “Look at me, Celeste.”

  She peeked up but could barely look him in the eyes.

  “It does matter,” he said emphatically. “Please, tell me.”

  “He said that I’m not good enough for you. That I’ll never be good enough for you, and that I’m using my position as the nanny to trap you.”

  The low growl that emanated from Roger made it clear he was just as upset with the other man as Celeste had been earlier. Her own anger, however, had turned into sorrow when she allowed herself to believe Roger’s friend was right. What business did she have dating someone like Roger? They would never work.

  “Listen to me, Celeste. I’m sorry for what he said, but he doesn’t speak for me. I’m not even friends with any of the people I used to hang out with. Once I found God, that changed everything for me, but none of them wanted to believe it. I’m betting it was George. If it was, he’s just angry with my choices and trying to find someone to blame. You’re an easier target than accepting the truth of who I am now.”

  “But what if he’s right, Roger? What if we don’t work? What if we can never work?”

  “We do work, Celeste. We work better than any relationship I’ve ever had in my whole life. I care about you so much, Celeste. You just need to trust that.”

  This time, when her eyes met his, she didn’t look away. She drank in the affection she saw there, and she realized, she cared for him too.

  10

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this nervous,” Celeste said with concern. “Are you going to be all right?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” Roger confessed. “My family can be a lot. I can barely stand a family dinner with them. I’m not sure I want to put you and Marcus through it.”

  “We’ll be fine. We’re tough,” Celeste stated with a smile.

  “Yeah, we tough,” Marcus echoed, putting his arms up in the air and flexing his tiny muscles like a superhero.

  “See that, Marcus agrees,” Celeste said with a laugh. “We got this—all of us, together.”

  A little while later, they arrived at Remington Tower in the Upper East Side. The tower was one of the most elite buildings in all of Manhattan. It featured modern architecture inspired by Art Deco and luxury amenities, including a superior health club, screening room, wine cellar, and even a day spa.

  “This place is impressive,” Celeste stated as they climbed out and were greeted by the 24-hour doorman. “I bet it has everything.”

  “Yes, my parents are firm believers if you throw money at people, you don’t actually need to spend time with them. They wanted a building that would keep my sister and me entertained for hours.”

  “I can’t even imagine growing up like this,” Celeste stated in awe.

  “It’s not as great as you might think,” Roger defended. “I would have much preferred to have parents that wanted to spend time with me.”

  “I get that, but at least they’re trying now. I mean, they called you to invite us over to celebrate your birthday. That has to count for something.”

  “If that’s all this is,” Roger countered. “I think it’s more about inspecting Marcus and you.”

  “Oh, let’s hope not,” Celeste said, her brows coming together in a furrow. Nervously, she brushed her hands over her hair and down her plum sweater and black skirt, as if trying to fix anything that was out of place.

  “Don’t worry about it. You look great,” Roger said, leaning over and placing a peck on her lips.

  “Ewww, yuck,” Marcus said with a scrunched-up face of disgust.

  “Sorry, Buddy, didn’t mean to gross you out,” Roger apologized. “But you better get used to it. I’m going to be kissing Celeste a lot.”

  As they exited the elevator and made their way down to the end of the hall, Roger prepared to enter the lion’s den.

  The door opened to reveal a maid in a starched black and white uniform. Roger didn’t recognize her, but it didn’t surprise him. His parents turned over maids just as often as they used to turn over nannies.

  “You must be the son,” the woman stated in broken English, her thick Russian accent making it clear she wasn’t from the United States. “Please, come in.”

  The apartment was just like Roger remembered. It had oversized windows, high ceilings, and a massive fireplace in the main living room. There was gold dripping from every corner of the place, and what wasn’t covered in the metal, was replaced by crystal.

  “Roger, darling,” a platinum blonde woman cooed, coming up to them as they stood in the entryway. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Good evening, Mom,” Roger greeted back, as the woman pulled him into a hug.

  Once she released him, she turned her attention to Marcus. “And you must be my grandson. You don’t know how pleased I am to meet you,” she said with a smile.

  Marcus ducked behind Celeste’s leg, uncomfortable with the attention.

  “Your father was shy when he was your age, too, but he grew out of it,” she said to Marcus. Then glancing up at Cele
ste, she added, “And you must be Celeste. Roger mentioned that you’re Marcus’ nanny, but you’ve also recently started dating my son.”

  Celeste’s eyes grew round at the bluntness of the woman. “Yes, all of that is true.”

  “Well, Roger hasn’t brought a girl around here since he was in prep school, so this is a special occasion beyond just his birthday.” Turning towards the maid, Roger’s mother said, “Vera, please go tell Chef Monteu we’ll be ready for dinner in fifteen minutes.”

  Once the maid was gone, Roger’s mother gestured towards the rest of the penthouse and said, “We should join everyone in the dining room.”

  “Everyone?” Roger asked with surprise. “Who else is here?”

  “Your sister, Tiffany, and her boyfriend, Artie Frankhurst.”

  “Since when are Tiffany and Artie dating?”

  “Oh, it’s rather new, but we couldn’t be happier about it. As you well know, his parents are dear friends of ours at the club, and Artie has that great job as a marketing director.”

  Of course, they would be happy with Tiffany dating someone from their social set. It was just like them to make over such a connection, not even caring whether Tiffany was happy with the guy. Roger wouldn’t be surprised if she was simply dating Artie to make their parents happy.

  Three sets of eyes were glued to Roger, Celeste, and Marcus as they entered the large room that was filled with elegant decor. There were two large mahogany buffet tables covered in silver utensils and fine china, a set of three matching curio cabinets that reached from the floor to nearly the ceiling, and a massive mahogany table with twelve ornate chairs already set for dinner.

  “Roger, it’s good to see you’re on time. You’ve been making a habit of it lately.”

  “You told me to take things more seriously, and contrary to popular belief, I do listen on occasion,” Roger stated with a lopsided grin.

  “Oh, I would be the first one in line to argue that,” Artie interjected, giving a giant grin as he stood up and reached out his hand to Roger. “Good to see you, old friend.”

  “Likewise,” Roger said, though he wasn’t sure if Artie really meant it. Last time they talked, his friend had been put out that Roger wouldn’t party with him and their friends at a local, high class club. Plus, he was surprised to hear Artie was dating Tiffany. Artie wasn’t the settling down type, but Roger didn’t want to pass judgment too quickly. He hadn’t been either, until a few months back.

  Tiffany, who had their father’s coloring with her auburn hair and chestnut eyes, gave her brother a smile as she said, “It’s good to see you, big brother. I hear you’ve been doing a fair job at learning the business over at the company. Not that I wouldn’t do a better job, but of course with me being a girl, that’s not an option,” Tiffany stated wryly.

  Their father gave her a withering stare as he snapped, “That’s enough of that, Tiffany. There are plenty of other things you need to be doing. For instance, preparing for your upcoming wedding that I suspect will be happening with this fine fellow right here,” her father said with a gesture towards Artie.

  Artie’s cheeks turned red as he averted his eyes. Just as Roger suspected, Artie wasn’t interested in anything too serious. Roger needed to warn his sister before it was too late, but now wasn’t the time. Hopefully, he would have a chance before the night was through.

  “Sit down, everyone,” Roger’s father commanded. “I’m ready to eat.”

  The group did as they were told, none of them wanting to get on senior Boswell’s bad side. The servants entered the dining room and served the first course.

  The family casually talked about the company and several upcoming social events. Roger’s parents asked Marcus questions about his likes and dislikes and what his favorite activities were. By the end of the meal, Roger had relaxed, realizing that he enjoyed spending time with his family, a rather new sensation.

  Artie’s phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket. “If you all will excuse me, I just got a text from my work. There’s an emergency and I have to go.”

  “What kind of emergency does a marketing director have at eight at night?” Roger asked skeptically, worried he was hurrying off to meet a side piece.

  “It’s well out of your realm, Roger,” Artie said with a wink. “Stick to numbers and schedules. Leave the creative to me.” Artie leaned down and placed a peck on Tiffany’s forehead before he shoved his phone in his pocket. “Goodnight, everyone, sorry I have to miss dessert.”

  Without a backward glance, Artie disappeared through the door.

  “Well, that was rather obnoxious,” Roger stated as he crossed his arms. “Does he do that often?”

  “What, leave for work like a responsible person does, or take an easy jab at his friend in good fun?” Tiffany asked, defensively.

  “Oh, I know how Artie is. The last part didn’t bother me, but the whole taking off with a vague excuse might be a cover for something else,” Roger observed. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, little sister. Artie has a reputation for being a ladies’ man.”

  “Since when have you cared about me? You haven’t come around in months, and you avoid all my texts and calls. Roger, you should really—”

  “That’s enough,” their father bellowed, slamming his fists down on the table. “I don’t know how many more of these dinners I’m going to remember having with you kids. I don’t want to spend what little of them I have left listening to my children argue.”

  Tiffany’s cheeks turned pink as she quickly said, “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Me either, I’ll do better,” Roger promised.

  The servants brought out an individual crème brûlée and placed them in front of each person.

  Marcus’ eyes grew wide with shock. “This look good,” he said, digging into the rich pudding-like dessert. “Ummm, so yummy,” he moaned, soliciting laughter from everyone else around him.

  “Glad you like it, my boy,” Roger’s father said, reaching out and ruffling Marcus’ hair.

  “It my new favorite,” Marcus declared.

  “Then we shall have it every time you come,” Roger’s father pronounced as if it were a decree. Bending down so his eyes met the boy’s, he added, “Which between you and me, I hope is as often as possible.”

  Roger was touched by the affection his father showed his son. He hadn’t expected the unusual display but was grateful for it none-the-less. Perhaps his father’s illness had softened him and made him aware of what was truly important.

  Once everyone finished dessert, Tiffany asked to speak with her brother privately. Roger’s parents said they would enjoy getting to spend a little time with Marcus and Celeste while the siblings talked.

  “Why don’t we go out on the balcony,” Tiffany suggested. “We both always liked it out there as kids.”

  They both took seats and looked out over the glowing lights of the city. Roger always marveled at how breathtaking the city looked at night.

  “How is everything going at work?” Tiffany inquired, taking a sip of her wine that she brought out with her.

  “I guess I’m holding my own, but I agree, you could definitely give me a run for my money,” Roger said.

  “Well, don’t let father hear you say that, because heaven knows, a woman can’t do what a man can do,” she said snidely with a roll of her eyes. “Even if that woman went to Harvard business school and graduated Magna Cum Laude.”

  “I know it isn’t fair, Tiffany. I’ve told Dad as much, but he’s so set in his ways when it comes to business. He won’t listen to anyone else.”

  “I think he would listen to you. I’m not saying I want to take your place at the head of the table, but I’d at least like a seat at it,” Tiffany stated. “I think I could be a real asset to the company if I were given the chance, rather than be told to take a position on a board for a non-profit charity or fine arts museum because that’s what most women from our social set do.”

  “I’l
l tell you what, Tiffany, I will bring it up to Dad on Monday. I agree that you deserve to be a part of the family company as much as I do, maybe even more, considering how much you prepared for it.”

  Tiffany reached over and hugged her brother. “Thank you so much, Roger. I know it’s your birthday, but you’ve given me the best present in the world by believing in me.”

  The siblings made their way back into the penthouse and found everyone else in the living room. Marcus was sitting in their father’s lap and the man was reading him a story—a sight Roger was completely shocked by since he never did that for either of his own children.

  Their father finished the page before looking up at Roger. “I think we need to talk,” he stated before picking up the small boy and placing him in his wife’s lap along with the book. “Here, your grandmother will finish the story for you.”

  Roger and his father made their way into his father’s study where they both took seats on the sofa in the corner.

  “I need to talk with you about the situation with Marcus,” his father began. “You need—”

  Before he could finish, Roger interrupted, “Don’t start, Dad. I’m not sending Marcus away. As a matter of fact, I’ve decided to fight Brianna for custody.”

  His father let out a huff as he shook his head. “Maybe you should let me finish before you go jumping to conclusions about what I’m going to say. What I planned to say, before you so rudely interrupted me, is that I can help with your custody situation. I’ve got connections with several judges in town, and if by the unlucky chance you don’t get one of them assigned to your case, there’s ways to make sure that woman doesn’t end up with Marcus.”

  “What are you talking about?” Roger inquired, not liking the sound of what his father was implying.

  “We can have her framed for something that will put her out of the way. I’ve got people that can make sure she gets arrested for a crime that won’t let her see the light of day until Marcus is a grandfather himself.”