by Jess Bentley
I was feeling brighter and more optimistic as I ventured into the breakfast room. Maybe Lindsay would be just what my daughter needed to become a happy child again. Even better, she wouldn’t be any sort of temptation or distraction for me. After my disastrous relationship with Ashe, I was done with women other than an occasional one on the side to meet my needs. No emotions, and nobody gets hurt. But a mother figure would be good for Elle.
Besides, I remembered Lindsay as a mousy girl with plain brown hair, big glasses, and a straight, albeit chubby, frame. I didn’t remember much more about her than that, but I was starting to feel optimistic that she was a very safe bet.
After the kind of luck I’d had recently, I needed a safe bet.
CHAPTER 2
LINDSAY
T ears prickled behind my eyelids, and I blinked rapidly to keep them from falling. The Dean of Student Affairs sat across from me, and while her expression was uncompromising, her tone was kind enough. I didn’t like hearing what she had to say, though I knew it was coming.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to find a solution and soon, Ms. Valentine. The check bounced for your latest tuition payment, and since you ignored the situation for thirty days, something has to be done now. If I don’t have some sort of resolution within the week, I’m going to have to expel you.”
I nodded, shifting in my chair with shame and embarrassment. I never would’ve turned in the check when my father mailed it if I’d suspected it wouldn’t go through. The possibility that it would bounce should have at least occurred to me, since he was terrible with money and always prone to wild spending sprees, but I had been naïve enough to think that my future would’ve been important enough to him to ensure the tuition check was covered.
“I really wasn’t trying to ignore it, Mrs. Ross. I didn’t find out until I got the email in my student account yesterday morning. My father didn’t tell me.”
Her uncompromising expression softened, and her look took on an edge of sympathy. “That’s understandable, and I feel for your situation. I have a list of scholarships that you can apply for, but I have to be honest and tell you they won’t be processed in time for the payment that’s past due. I have no doubt you can get at least some of them with your grades from high school and your extracurricular activities, but they won’t be something you can rely on to pay for this semester. And unfortunately, you’re far enough into the academic year that we can’t just issue a refund and drop the classes. Since we’re halfway through the semester, if you can’t sort this out quickly, they’ll be listed as withdrawals on your record. That means they’ll affect your grade point average. Which in turn, affects your ability to get any scholarships.”
I closed my eyes for a moment and swallowed the lump in my throat. I studiously ignored the buzzing of the phone in my purse as I took a deep breath. “Is there some kind of payment plan? I could get another job.”
Somehow. I already had two part-time jobs alongside attending school full-time, but did I really need to sleep anyway? I can sleep in four years, after I graduate.
Mrs. Ross shook her head. “I’m truly sorry, Ms. Valentine, but you are already on the payment plan. The most we can do is break tuition payments into thirds, with the final third needing to be paid at least a month before the term ends. Even that payment is coming up. You have the second installment due, plus penalties for the returned check, and then less than a week after that, your third installment is due. We won’t be able to accept a check in the future either. The funds must be a cashier’s check or some other certified method, or you could also pay via credit card.”
It was getting hard to concentrate on what she was saying. My phone briefly stopped buzzing, but now it started again. The sound was drilling through my head, making the headache that started the previous morning, when I learned how bad the situation was, that much worse. When I called my father, he’d been apologetic, but he also brushed it off. “I’m telling you, kid, I’m on the next big thing here. Payout will be soon, and I’ll have so much money I can prepay four years of tuition for you.”
Good ol’ Dad, the eternal optimist and infernal idiot. Despite the pang of shame at the disloyalty, I had to admit it was merely the truth. He lived in his own little world, where things like tuition payments didn’t really matter.
Somehow, I managed to block out the annoying buzzing of the phone against my leg. “I see what I can do. Thank you for your honesty. I really needed to know my options.”
The dean pushed a stack of papers toward me. “Let me be blunt, Lindsay. If you can’t come up with the remaining two-thirds of the semester’s tuition, please, for your sake, don’t bother paying the second installment. You’ll just be throwing away your money if we have to expel you anyway. Perhaps you should look into community college. It’d be much easier to afford, and you might still be able to get some scholarships if you apply before these grades register on your transcripts. And then eventually you could transfer back, if you wanted.”
I nodded, feeling the need to bleed to blink rapidly again. “That’s good advice. Thank you.”
After gathering the papers and hurrying from the office, I rushed down the hallway to the nearest bathroom. Once inside, I closed myself into the stall and allowed silent tears to flow freely down my cheeks. It was a habit I’d gotten into during childhood, when I realized that tears distressed my father, who had no ability to cope with them. He’d often end up crying alongside me, and tell me all about his sad and miserable life. At some point, I learned to hide my negative emotions from him—to protect him.
And what good had it done? He’d certainly never made much of an effort to protect me. Sure, there’d been food on the table most of the time, and usually a place to live, but that had been it. No birthdays, and no Santa at Christmas. Just broken promises. Sure, I had babysitting for the occasional little thing I might have wanted, but it still hurt. But beyond gifts, it would be a crap shoot whether or not the electricity would be on from month to month, depending on whether Dad had a hunch on the horses, or somebody convinced him to buy in on an MLM scheme. There were probably a hundred financial failures that followed in his wake, yet he never seemed to learn from a single one of them.
And apparently, he never learned not to send a check he couldn’t cover to Columbia University to pay for his daughter’s one shot at a real future.
My phone went off again as I was reaching for the toilet paper roll to tear off a strip. I blew my nose and wiped my cheeks before swiping the phone to accept the call. It was an unfamiliar number, and my stomach churned with fear as I wondered if it was someone calling to collect a debt from my father. It wouldn’t be the first time that bill collectors harassed me now that I turned eighteen. They’d be hoping to track down my father’s whereabouts, or trying to push me into paying his bills. It was sad that as an eighteen-year-old, I practically memorized the fair debt collections practices act so I could protect myself against these predatory collection agents.
“Hello?”
“Is this Lindsay Valentine?” asked the voice with a slight English accent.
“Yes.” I let out the breath I was holding in relief. Debt collectors usually didn’t sound British.
“My name is Eric Baylor, and I work for Ben Hudson. He would like to offer you a job, Ms. Valentine.”
My mouth dropped open in shock. “Ben Hudson wants to hire me? To do what?” Ben’s handsome face swam before my mind’s eye. Before he and Ashe moved away from our building and into that fancy complex in downtown Manhattan, I’d had such a crush on him. Of course I was only twelve, and the babysitter. Back then, they were still more like regular people than billionaires. He’d always been kind to me, though we hadn’t interacted too much. I’d certainly preferred seeing him to his wife, though I usually had to deal with her. Mostly, I just spent time taking care of sweet little Elle, who hadn’t been any trouble at all.
“Miss Valentine, Mr. Hudson is looking for a nanny for his daughter. Would you be interested
in taking that on?”
I took a deep breath as I was starting to tremble, though I wasn’t certain if it was from anxiety or anticipation. “A nanny for Elle? But... I’m not trained to work as a nanny.”
He sounded impatient. “That doesn’t really matter, Ms. Valentine. Elle has specifically requested you, and Ben wants to do his utmost to make her happy and comfortable. She’s had a rough time since the divorce.”
My heart swelled at the news, though it was kind of an unseemly reaction to have. “They divorced—?” I felt like a terrible person for my surge of happiness at the idea, since it broke up a family and likely left Elle devastated. “I assume he has part-time custody of Elle and just wants someone to fill in on his weekends?” He’d always been so busy when we lived next door that I assumed he was still the same workaholic. Back in the day it seemed like work came before family with Ben Hudson. That was the one thing I hadn’t particularly admired about him. No matter how handsome he might be, or how much he sparked forbidden ideas in my teenage head.
“Yes, the divorce has been final for the past year, but he has full custody so he’s looking for someone full-time. I’m authorized to make you an offer you can’t refuse, so what might that be?”
Without thinking about it, I blurted out the amount I still owed for tuition, including the final installment that wasn’t yet due. “I need that as a signing bonus, and then living expenses and room and board?” I suggested the last part tentatively, not certain if they wanted a live-in nanny or not. It would be an ideal solution for me, since I didn’t particularly care for my roommates, and I’d love to have my own room again instead of sharing with two other girls. The apartment we’d taken near campus was this side of a slum, and I’d happily trade it for digs at the Imperial any day—even if it meant sleeping in a storage closet, which would probably still be roomier than my curtained-off section of the bedroom I shared with the other two girls.
“I’ll relay that, but I can’t imagine it will be a problem. How about you pack your things and plan to show up tomorrow morning at seven? Be ready to work, Ms. Valentine.”
“Wow, okay!” I licked my lips. “And you’ll tell me if there’s a problem with my proposal?”
Mr. Baylor laughed. “I’ll certainly call you, but I can practically guarantee there will be no problem. He’s desperate enough to pay twice that amount, though maybe I shouldn’t tell you that.”
“I have no intention of taking advantage of him,” I said, shocked. “I wouldn’t do that to him or Elle.”
His tone was more serious when he responded. “I didn’t mean to offend you, and I wasn’t trying to imply you would. I’m just telling you that he practically would’ve given you the earth if that’s what you demanded to help with Elle. He’s worried about her, and she is such a lost little soul. I hope you’re ready to deal with all that.”
My stomach clenched with nerves. “I hope so too,” I answered softly.
It was sad to think Elle wasn’t the adorable, sweet little girl I had babysat years ago. I wasn’t certain what I was getting into, but whatever it might be had to be better than my current prospects for the future—getting another part-time job and detouring to community college for a couple of years. And that was if I could afford to put myself through school at all. If I didn’t, there went my dreams of owning a gallery and being financially stable. I’d be waitressing and worse, while occasionally painting for fun, if I had the time, energy, and money for supplies. It wouldn’t be that difficult to help Elle, since she used to be such a sweet child. She’d get back there. Wouldn’t she?
It certainly wouldn’t be hard to see Ben Hudson either, but that was a thought I couldn’t afford to have. He was probably nearly twice my age, now divorced from his flake of an ex-wife, and obviously dealing with family problems. I was still practically the same girl I’d been before, though I might be more grown up. I was more mature as well, but I wasn’t stupid enough to fool myself into thinking I could handle a man like Ben Hudson. I was taking this job because I needed the money, and Elle needed me, and that was all there was to it.
I put his handsome face out of my mind.
CHAPTER 3
BEN
M y phone rang just as I was wrapping up the meeting with the new client. I moved off to the side of the conference room as my assistant escorted Mr. Collins and his crew from the room. “Hello?”
“She said yes,” said Erik Baylor briskly.
A wave of relief shot through me at the news. “Was it difficult to get her to agree?”
“No, sir. She wants a signing bonus, and the amount gels with what the background check revealed. Ms. Valentine needs money for tuition, so that’s what we offered.”
“What background check?”
There was a slight hesitation before he answered. “I naturally assumed you would want me to run a check on Elle’s prospective nanny, Mr. Hudson.”
I let out a breath I’d been holding. “Yes, of course. I didn’t think about it. I guess I’m still remembering Lindsay as the little twelve-year-old.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What did you turn up?”
“Nothing on Ms. Valentine herself. Her father is a treasure trove of questionable judgment and poor fiscal management though.”
“Hmm. I suppose I do remember that about him.” I hated to imagine the poor young girl dealing with that, but was also happy that the fact she needed money helped get her to accept the job. “How much does she need?”
Erik named the sum before adding, “And she wants a monthly salary and room and board. I told her it’s a live-in position, correct?”
If only I could avoid having a woman living in the home. It was different with Betsy and Margot, the chef. They stayed in a different part of the apartment, and both women were married, so I didn’t have to worry about entanglements. And Margot was old enough to be my mother.
I didn’t see a way around having Lindsay live with us though. Elle needed a constant, stable influence, and I doubted it would be a problem anyway. I was probably way too old for her to try to make a play for, and I certainly wasn’t going to be tempted by a mousy young girl who was going to be underfoot all the time. She was too young, and I knew better than to get involved with someone who would expect a commitment. Not that I anticipated being tempted in the slightest by the older version of the chubby, bespectacled tween I’d known.
CHAPTER 4
LINDSAY
T he lobby of the Imperial building was as imposing as it was beautiful. It was obvious to me that I didn’t belong, and I was sure the others milling around the area realized it too. An older, portly gentleman opened the door for me, bending his head. “Good morning, miss.”
“Uh, hi.” I walked through the doorway and stood hesitantly for a moment. “I’m here to meet Mr. Hudson. I guess I’ll be staying here. I mean…” I trailed off with a shrug, not sure what else to say.
“Wonderful. My name is Bill, Miss…?”
“Valentine, but please call me Lindsay.”
He nodded again. “Thank you, Miss Lindsay. Go straight to the door marked Security down the hallway. I’m certain Mr. Hudson will have left the information with the office, and they’ll process you.”
That sounded official and slightly daunting. Managing a shaky smile, I thanked him and turned in the direction he pointed. I found the security office easily enough and opened the door gingerly. When I stepped inside, a blond man in a dark uniform looked up from his bank of monitors and frowned at me.
I cleared my throat. “Bill sent me here.”
He looked impatient. “I see that. For what?”
“Mr. Hudson is expecting me. I’m the new nanny, I guess.”
He arched a brow. “You guess?”
I shrugged. “I think it’s a done deal, but um… maybe it’s an interview.”
He slid his chair to reach a computer and typed for a moment. “Nope, looks like you got the job. Here you are. Mr. Hudson has requested the full-access package f
or you. Let’s get you set up. ID?”
He waved me over, and I spent the next few minutes obeying his instructions. He took a picture, recorded information about me, and finished up by having me place my hand on a panel. “What is this?”
“It’s taking a biometric print of your hand to allow you easy access through security checkpoints.”
Hesitantly, I pressed my palm fully against the black panel. “Will it hurt?”
“Nope.” He pressed a button on the computer.
With a brief flash of light that reminded me of the scanner on my computer at home, it zipped down the length of my palm. No pain.
“All set.”
I lifted my hand and had barely done so when he held out a plastic badge to me. I looked down at my picture, which wasn’t half as terrible as the one on my school ID card. My name was printed there, along with Mr. Hudson’s address and apartment number, and the designation of “Staff.”
“You can go on up. You’ll be able to access the elevators with your palm. Mr. Hudson lives on the sixty-sixth floor.”
“Sixty-six? The whole floor?” I asked, reading it from the ID card.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thanks.” He didn’t seem inclined to answer and was already returning to his bank of security cameras. With a small shrug, I left the office and re-entered the lobby.
The bank of elevators was easy to find, and I figured out the biometric panel easily enough. When I stepped inside, the elevator was the nicest I’d ever seen, with its glossy black tile floors and chrome walls. There was a tasteful painting mounted to the wall, and an electronic billboard on the side that seemed to list monthly events at the Imperial—which was far too fancy to have handwritten signs or a corkboard in the lobby.
