by Kylie Parker
Even in his loose-fitting pajamas, I could tell he was strong.
“I had an important meeting at work, and I couldn’t cancel it to stay home and work any of this out,” he said.
It broke my trance, causing me to rip my eyes back up towards his. Those icy blue eyes that threw daggers at those who attempted to question him.
“You did a really good job, setting all this up,” he said.
“Thank you,” I managed to choke out of my mouth.
I felt Clara’s breathing even out again against my skin, and it prompted me to look down at her. I picked up the side of my shirt and wiped the corner of her face, and I didn’t see the look he stole of my skin before I shifted the little baby onto my shoulder.
“I should go lay her down,” I breathed. But I couldn’t move.
My body was at a complete stand-still.
I watched as his eyes raked along my body, no doubt studying me the way I just did him. His eyes lingered on my legs before lazily taking in my torso, and when he locked his eyes back with mine I held my breath while he slowly emerged from the shadows.
The stars twinkled in his eyes as I watched him slowly approach me.
His body heat was radiant. My neck craned back to take in his stature, my forehead hitting him merely at his chest, and when he lifted his arms towards me I had every intention of sinking my body into his strong, chiseled chest and never allowing myself the pain of leaving.
But I felt his arms curl up underneath mine, and I released his infant daughter into his arms.
“I can do that,” was all he offered before my eyes dropped to the child in his arms.
I watched as he turned to leave, and when he rounded the corner I leaned against the glass windows and let loose the breath I was holding. Mr. Blake was an intimidating man, and my heart began to ache for him at the idea of how he must be floundering. What was once a fiery passion to blame turned into a nagging sensation of guilt: I had assumed the worst of him because of our nonchalant and seemingly ignorant interaction this morning, but the truth was he was just that –
Ignorant to a new situation.
I laid my head against the full-length window pane before I turned my body back around to the view. I looked down at the moving dots, wondering if anyone knew of this man’s perch. They were too far away to peek into their lives, but not far enough away to be oblivious to their existence.
My eyes slowly trailed up to the horizon as I began quietly to count the number of stars in the sky.
Clara was a lucky girl: to be raised in such a beautiful place, with such a beautiful view, of such a wonderful city.
Well, a city that would be wonderful to her.
I could only wish to be so lucky.
7
I heard crying in the middle of the night, and it caused me to groan and roll over. I hired a nanny to keep that kid quiet so I could sleep, and here it was –
I ate my words when the morning sunlight started streaming through the sheer curtains of my bedroom.
“Fuck,” I murmured before I sat up in bed.
It felt like I’d only been asleep for a few minutes. My reward to myself for a job well done was three weeks of vacation, and I was supposed to be living it up! Sleeping in! Waking up next to beautiful women! But the smell of breakfast halted my wishing in my tracks, while the shrieking sound of Clara slowly began to die down.
“I’m a father,” I breathed to myself.
I didn’t know if I was ever going to get used to that title. Men like me didn’t have kids: men with money; tailored suits; expensive shoes; men with late work hours and workaholic attitudes. I was supposed to be out spending my money, not lying here in a bed wishing I could go back to sleep.
I should just go back to sleep!
But the bacon smelled so good, and something smelled like chocolate, and soon my stomach was growling before I heaved myself out of bed. My body yearned to get back into it, to sink back into the plush king-sized mattress with the pure silk sheets and the cool fan blowing directly onto my naked body. My bedroom was where I was most powerful, the most in control. Women succumbed to my tongue and bowed to my every whim within the walls of this room, and it buzzed with untold secrets of unbridled lust while-
“It’s alright, Clara,” I heard the nanny coo while she breezed past my doorway.
I sighed heavily before reaching for my robe. I threw it over my shoulders and made my way for the kitchen, and when I emerged from around the corner my eyes hungrily took in the spread along the kitchen island: steaming chocolate chip pancakes with extra crispy bacon, fresh maple syrup, and orange juice. Coffee began to permeate my nostrils as I went digging for a plate and a fork, and when I dug into the food and sat myself down at the breakfast nook that housed another glorious view of the city, she came striding back through into the kitchen –
Moving as silently as a kitten.
I watched her fly through the room while her feet pattered lightly on the ground. I took in her mangled, tangled hair, thrown haphazardly up into a bun with strings of lightly-curled hair dangling against her neck. I took stock of her pajamas, raggedy pants with a tattered shirt and a robe that I’m pretty sure was giving off the stench of baby vomit.
“Would you like an advance?” I asked coolly.
She whipped her head over quickly before turning back to the counter.
“Why would I need something like that?” she asked.
“To get yourself some suitable clothes.”
I watched her back pull taut with the request as her arms slowly stilled. Her breathing was intentionally slow, and I wondered what I had said wrong. All women love to go shopping, it’s just a natural fact of life. Give any woman money, and she comes back with stuff.
“My clothes are just fine,” she answered lowly.
“Suit yourself.”
I dug into my plate and I couldn’t help but begin to moan. The food was absolutely delicious, and I sank back into the breakfast nook before bringing a piece of bacon up to chew. It’d been a long time since I’d had a breakfast like this. I mean, most people like me hire cooks, but I’m never around this place long enough in the mornings to need breakfast.
And if I am, there’s usually someone I can go out with and get breakfast.
It was rare for me to wake up with time to spare and not have a beautiful woman’s body to call my appetizer.
My eyes wandered back over to Madeline, lingering on her as she made her way around the room. She cleaned up the orange rinds littering the counter, but not before she rubbed them down on the marble surfaces of my kitchen counter.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“To freshen up,” she said quickly.
I nodded slowly before I began studying her again; her robe was slipping down past her shoulder, revealing her bronzed skin beneath the tattered fabrics of her clothes. Her legs were short. In fact, her entire stature was short, compared to me. Her head only came up to my chest, and her eyes held a determined stare as she quickly began clearing the plates away from the kitchen island.
“You’re not gonna eat?” I asked before I grabbed my orange juice.
“Already did,” she replied.
She had thrown up a wall to me. I had offended her somehow.
I never offended women. Women loved me! They loved my laugh, they loved my jokes, and they loved my money...
“Did I do something wrong?” I asked.
Only this time, she didn’t answer.
I slowly sipped my juice while I watched her clean. Clara must have been sleeping, and it gave me a chance to watch her. I couldn’t help but see her helplessly-swinging breasts when she turned around to wipe off the kitchen island. They swung heavily underneath her tattered shirt, and I could feel my groin pulsating with warmth. She was undeniably beautiful, even if her clothes left much to be desired visually.
“How’d you sleep last night?” I tried again. I genuinely wanted to know. This strange woman, with the sun in her eyes and its rays
glistening on her skin, had been in my home for less than forty-eight hours, and in that time she had taken the burden of a foreign child off my chest, outfitted my home with what the child needed, and cooked a marvelous meal.
“When did you eat?” I prompted.
Without any answer, she placed her back to me, turning the sink on to wash the dishes that had held the contents of breakfast.
“Are you always this talkative?” I smirked
“Would you like any coffee?” she asked hastily before she threw a rag down into the sink.
“Sure, I’d love some,” I smiled.
“Pot’s over there,” she deadpanned before she headed towards the kitchen exit. I watched as she shuffled out of the room, with her shoulders slumped slightly and her feet sliding across the floor. She was agitated and looked like she felt out-of-place.
But mostly, I think she was overwhelmed.
“Thanks!” I called out after her, and I couldn’t help but watch her pert little ass sashay away from me as she huffed down the hallway.
She was cute when she was upset.
8
Who the hell did he think he was, asking me if I wanted an advance to buy clothes? My clothes were just fine. Nannies didn’t have to look a certain way. Hell, I woke up all night to a child whose stomach was tossing up contents I didn’t even know existed! Obviously the formula I was giving Clara wasn’t holding up well, so after I left that god-awful kitchen, I headed for my cell phone and promptly called the grocery store. I explained what had transpired and what was currently happening to Clara, and they said they had a sensitive-stomach formula they could try to see if that would help her.
I didn’t even say goodbye before hanging up the phone.
Now that Clara was done barfing everywhere, she was finally asleep. I paced all night with that child vomiting down the back of my robe, and he has the audacity to ask me if I want better clothes?
Why don’t you go get better clothes, you jackass!
I tried to slow my breathing before I turned and looked at myself in the mirror. I hadn’t even unpacked my things into my room, so I slowly began pulling things out of my suitcase before tossing them into drawers. I didn’t own anything that required hangars or a closet, and by the time I was done stuffing everything into the dresser drawers, the doorbell rang.
Immediately, it started Clara crying again.
I threw my head back and groaned, made a mental note to have a sign put up whenever she was napping, and shuffled my way out to the door. But, before I could reach it, Mr. Blake had already paid and was standing there with a bag of canned baby formula powder.
“I take it she didn’t like the other stuff?” he asked.
It was the first time I really got a look at him, in the sunlight that was streaming through the awe-inspiring windows. His strong jawline sat prominently underneath high cheekbones, and his ice cold eyes were set ablaze and twinkling by his broad smile. His teeth were white enough to blind a horse, his honey blonde hair was slightly disheveled from sleeping last night, and the robe that draped his body clung to the strong muscles rippling across his arms and chest.
He just stood there, smirking, as if he was used to this reaction.
Well, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
“Since she was puking all night, I’d say not,” I huffed before I strode over to him and reached for the bag. I took it from him and stepped beside him to make my way for the kitchen, but before I could get past him I felt a light pressure on my arm.
I looked down at his hand on my forearm, and the warmth of his body encompassed my entire being as his gaze hardened on my face.
“I didn’t mean my comment on your clothes to be a reflection on your status,” he said lowly.
His statement made me chuckle dryly before I slowly panned my gaze up to his face.
“Boy, you really are thick, aren’t you?” I breathed. “I don’t care what you think about my clothes. I’m not your woman. It’s not my job to look good standing beside you.”
I wrenched my arm from his grasp and began striding forward towards the kitchen.
“I didn’t mean to offend you in any way!” he yelled after me; of course the yelling only spurred Clara’s crying to increase. I swung the bag onto the kitchen counter before I took off back down the hallway, and his eyes only followed me before I turned into her room and found her in her crib. The poor girl was fighting between sleep and hunger, and when I scooped her up from her crib I realized she had blown her bowels right out of the sides of her diaper.
“Well, you’re just a mess, aren’t you beautiful?” I smiled down at her. She reminded me a lot of myself. Well, at least of the stories my mother told me of when I was small. She had told me how she battled both colic and bowel issues with me, and she always talked about how she knew I would be stubborn and strong-willed because of my unrelenting ability to keep her up at night with the most mundane circumstances.
And that’s when an idea struck me.
I brought Clara over to the changing table and got her cleaned up before I cradled her in my arms. I shoved my way past Mr. Blake, who had probably been staring at us in utter confusion from the doorway the entire time, and made my way back to the kitchen. I felt him hot on my trail, with his robe audibly swishing behind me as we both broke through into the other room, and when I went to grab the plastic bag, he ripped it from my grasp.
The quick gesture caused my head to whip over at him, and I found him studying me closely. The look behind his eyes was shocking: in a pompous man, there was always a conniving glitter. Men like that – with money, prominence, and silver spoons in their mouths – they all looked as if they were holding back a secret from other people. And it was a secret only to be given and known to those who were their financial equals –
Only to those with the same silver spoon sticking out of their faces.
But instead, I found a bit of helplessness in his eyes. There was some confusion, and a bit of sorrow. It was strange, coming from a man who intentionally rolled his shoulders back to intimidate people.
“Could you show me how to make it?” he asked lowly.
Clara curled into my body while my eyes dropped down to the bag swinging in his hand. It was obvious he was out of his element. He didn’t even call this beautiful girl by her name! It was very clear he felt no fatherly calling towards the little bundle of joy, even though she had his nose –
And his chin –
And his smile…
Clara gurgled in delight and it caused both of us to smile and snicker lightly.
“You’re very good with her,” he said.
“You could be, too,” I urged. I was the nanny, not this child’s mother. If she had been abandoned by her mother as he insinuated, then he was going to have a real and lasting impact on her.
He couldn’t abandon her, too.
My eyes hooked onto his and held his gaze for quite some time. The air in the room shifted and I felt a bit of my wall slowly give way to his presence before I felt a pinch come down onto my breast.
“Ouch!” I exclaimed. I jumped and grasped Clara’s hand, whose fingers were now digging into the meat of my nipple, and tears welled in my eyes before I screwed them tightly shut.
“Looks like that hurt,” Mr. Blake chuckled.
“Shut up,” I murmured.
“Walk me through how to make one,” he said before he set the cans of formula down onto the breakfast table.
So I showed him where I was keeping the clean bottles as I massaged my sore and tender breast.
9
She’d been here for two weeks and Clara still wasn’t sleeping through the night. My daughter would begin to shriek, and before I could peel myself out of bed to do something about it I’d find Madeline already in the kitchen pulling a bottle out of the fridge. She said she’d just made a habit out of making a few before she went to bed and then she’d shoo me back off to go sleep.
Night after night, it was like this, for
the majority of the vacation I took.
I had decided against going anywhere for said vacation. I mean, just because I didn’t know Clara had existed, didn’t mean that gave me the right to dump her with someone else and continue to live my life. Had things been different… had Gracie stayed… it would’ve been like this anyway.
So, I stuck around.
Madeline showed me how to change a diaper, though she never actually let me do it. She showed me how to make Clara’s formula bottles, though she always conveniently got to it before I did, and she even showed me how to hook her up into her car seat should I ever want to take her somewhere, just the two of us.
But there was always a reason Madeline insisted on going, and I found myself relenting to her presence.
I couldn’t even attribute it to the fact that she was beautiful, although her curves were incredibly pleasing to the eye. Clara was just… comfortable with her. Sure, she tolerated me, but Clara felt at home with Madeline: she nuzzled into her body whenever she was tired and whenever Madeline bounced her around she always seemed to giggle a little harder than she did with me.
I was sometimes jealous, until Madeline would remind me of the cold, hard truth.
“She’s just been abandoned by a woman. It would only stand to reason she’d cling to another one to help her cope.”
It boiled my blood – the word “abandoned.” No child should ever be abandoned like that. No person should ever have to experience anything like that.
And yet, sometimes I would catch Madeline staring out the windows of the living room in my home, and I got the distinct feeling that she understood.
