by Paige North
“Are you done?” I ask again.
“Yes, Mr. Townsend, I’m done,” she says, tilting her chin up defiantly. “If you’ll just let me have a moment…not sure if you can tell, but your daughter needs cuddle time.”
“One, she’s not my daughter. And two…cuddle time?”
“Yes, babies need close contact. They need love and warm skin. They need—”
“I know the fundamentals of affection, Miss Wallach—”
“Do you now?” She arches one sassy eyebrow.
Control yourself, Ethan. There’s no point in reprimanding her when she’s not even your employee. Taking a deep breath, I finish my sentence. “Anyway…I was referring to your choice of words.”
“What’s wrong with ‘cuddle time?’ Does the word cuddle make you uncomfortable?” I swear I see the hint of a mocking smile at her lips. Smart, beautiful, effective at caretaking, and a smartass. If I wasn’t so busy hating her, I’d throw her over my lap and spank her.
“You may go now. Put the child down.”
“Only if you take her.”
“Excuse me?” I give her a warning glance.
Her tone softens. “I’ll go, but only if you take her. It’s clear that you need a nanny, Mr. Townsend, and that Lilly Belle needs a loving presence. I don’t know what it is about me that you find so repellant, but if you won’t hire me, then at least take Lilly Belle into your arms yourself. That way, my conscience can go in peace.” She walks up to me and hands me the baby. “Here.”
Miss Wallach holds the baby up to me, and there’s so much I don’t know how to process. The powdery soft smell of Lilly Belle’s skin, her big blue-gray eyes like my sister’s, like pools of melted wildflowers that will harden into unforgiving iron one day. Miss Wallach’s silky arms as she holds twenty pounds in mid-air. Her infuriating resolve to teach me a lesson, the feminine scent wafting off her skin.
I fucking hate all of this.
Wilson will be here in a few minutes. He can take care of the baby until the agency sends another interviewee. I need Miss Wallach to stay until he gets here, that’s all.
I am certainly not spending any more time with the child than is absolutely necessary.
Why foster a relationship that will be over in a month’s time?
And then, suddenly, as if a dam bursts inside me, my resolve crumbles all at once. I’m too tired to fight it anymore. If she wants this job so badly, she can fucking have it.
I stare at her levelly.
“There are no days and no nights off, so if you have plans, cancel them,” I tell her, moving to the doorway, as she slowly reels the child back into her arms. “You will live in this house until your services are no longer needed. There will be no exceptions.”
Her wide eyes process the meaning of my words. “But—”
“The maid comes every day to clean,” I continue, ignoring her feeble interruption. “She has been ordered not to speak to you. Wilson comes three times a week, though he’s out of town. He’ll be here on Thursday and can get you anything you need. You will follow every task I ask you to do in the manner in which I prefer. There will be no house visitors, no guests, and no time off.”
“But Mr. Townsend, surely I’ll have some time for myself. I mean, I—”
“This child needs a mother, and while I know you are merely a poor replacement, mothers don’t get time off. You will take care of her as you would if you had given birth to her yourself.”
She gawks at me, lips parted. I could give her mouth something to do besides gape at me.
Another absurd thought hits me. I imagine Miss Wallach—Penelope—holding onto her rounded baby bump, smiling in the sunlight.
Why I think of her this way, why I imagine mine as the seed that joined hers to form the life growing inside of her, I don’t know. I don’t fucking know, and I don’t want images like this to torture me. I know it’s just science, hormones, testosterone, pheromones fucking with my brain, but I won’t continue to indulge these ridiculous thoughts and fantasies.
My sister became a parent, and look what happened—she’s gone and now I’m left cleaning up the mess.
My responsibilities are to myself. If I die, I don’t burden anyone. My death would cause the happiness of many, and Townsend Industries would still grow without me thanks to my well-oiled machine. And part of keeping that machine running smoothly means never getting involved with employees.
“Sir, if I may say so…”
“You may not,” I cut her off. “And if you continue to question my authority, you won’t last long here, Miss Wallach, I assure you. Your job is to care for Lilly Belle according to my instructions. Finally, and I cannot stress this rule enough…you will keep your door locked at night.”
“Why?” Wide, green eyes search my face.
“That’s a question, Miss Wallach.” As difficult as she’s being, I can tell she’s not doing it on purpose. She’s just not used to anyone telling her what to do. Probably the oldest sibling in her family, which would explain her stellar baby-whispering skills.
As if suddenly remembering that she’s the one who needs the money, she relents and sighs. “I’m sorry. I’ll do that. I’ll…keep my door locked at night.” I see the wheels in her head turning, wondering why the bizarre request, but it’s not rocket science—I’m a man; she’s a woman, an intensely hot one, though she doesn’t seem to know it.
Which is worse.
And entirely more challenging.
She drops a tiny kiss onto the baby’s forehead. No other nanny has treated this baby with such affection. Miss Wallach is perfect for this child, but she can’t know that. Because soon, the baby will be leaving for an adoption agency, and Miss Wallach’s services will not be required after that.
“Baby food and formula are in the kitchen, your room is to my left, no decorating this room, keep music and television volume to a minimum. Excellent work will earn you a bonus at the end of every week. As long as you follow my rules, you’ll be fine.”
She waits a moment before nodding. “Do you mind if I put up just a few images, something for Lilly Belle to look at?”
“I said no.”
“Fine.” She retracts indignantly.
“Good. Glad you understand.” I step out of the room and fight the urge to look at Miss Wallach holding the baby in her arms before closing the door. They go perfectly together, it’s hard to ignore. She probably shouldn’t get attached, but then again, nannies should know that by nature. I close the door and head down the hallway, descending the stairs and stopping when I hear the voice coming from the video baby monitor.
“We won’t listen to that mean ol’ uncle of yours, will we, Lilly Belle? No, we won’t. He’s a dummy head who doesn’t know the first thing about babies, but I do. And I’m here to make sure you have fun.”
I won’t go up there and reprimand her. She’s allowed to say whatever she wants in private, and I have to get to work anyway. Sighing, I grab my keys off the kitchen hook. Finally, I can get out of here.
But for the first time ever, I don’t want to go to work.
Penelope
It’s been three days. Three days of caring for this adorable little baby while her uncle stays away most of the day and I rarely, if ever, see him.
It’s always just me and her, which works fine. During Lilly Belle’s second nap of the day, I open up my laptop to try and get some work done. I’ve been working on the business plan for a small PR firm as part of my senior project, but looks like I won’t have much time to work on it, thanks to Ethan Townsend requiring I do nothing but my nanny duties.
The man has issues. Yes, he’s incredibly gorgeous, intimidates the heck out of me, and makes me feel like I’m completely naked in front of him, but he’s my boss now, so I have to listen to him.
And what’s with the whole “lock your door at night” thing? Does he turn into a werewolf? So far, nothing has happened at night, so I think he’s just into scare tactics to keep me in line.
&
nbsp; Glancing at Lilly Belle, I let light and love come into my mind. Who could look at such an innocent sleeping creature and be so hard and hateful? Poor thing lost both parents and has to live with this cold, distant man. Why couldn’t they leave her with a loving couple? Instead, she has to grow up in this prison. A beautiful prison with marble floors, crown molding, and I don’t know what else, because I’ve been too scared to explore the house.
I reach into her crib to cover her with her blanket. She responds with a wispy sigh through tiny rosy lips. So darned cute! Lilly Belle is fair-skinned and blonde with big blue eyes just like her evil uncle’s. I fell in love with her the moment I saw her, and I’m dying to decorate this bare room with four cream walls. All she has to look at is this stupid, high-tech mobile that bores her to tears.
My thoughts are broken when a light knock at the door scares the crap out of me. “Hello? Miss Wallach?”
My heart spikes then calms upon hearing the soothing voice. It’s definitely not Ethan’s, though I wouldn’t mind if it were. As aggravating as he is, there’s also something magnetic about him. Piercing blue eyes, chiseled face, wide shoulders and stance like a Roman god statue, even as he’s ordering me around. Plus, I rather enjoyed seeing him mildly flustered when I talked back to him.
In my eyes, we’re all the same. My mother taught me that. Then again, my family grew up without much money, so maybe that’s something my mother said to make us feel better.
Stepping over to the door, I crack it open. A dark man with gray hair smiles at me. He must be about forty years older than Ethan.
“Oh, hello. You’re Wilson?” I ask.
“The very one.” Dipping his head, he presses a hand to his heart. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Wallach. I’m Wilson Beneti. Don’t worry, I won’t bite,” he says, glancing at my hand on the door.
I feel stupid, blocking him from entering. This, if anyone, will be my ally. Opening the door, I say, “I’m so sorry. Come in, Mr. Beneti. I don’t know why I’m so on edge.”
“Call me Wilson, please. Let me think…” He leans against the wall. Wilson has dark, round eyes that disappear into his sunny grin. “Because your first impression here was of Mr. Townsend?” He chuckles. “Don’t mind him. He’s been that way ever since he was a child. I would know. I practically raised him.”
I shake my head in sympathy. “I can’t imagine such a warm man as yourself raising such a cold heart. Oops, I didn’t just say that out loud, did I?” I smile to show I’m kidding. Sort of. Mostly.
Wilson’s shoulders shudder with glee, but he raises his finger to his lips. “Monitors everywhere,” he whispers. “Not that he’s home, mind you, but best begin the practice of watching what you say.”
I shrug. “I can see why five nannies have come and gone.”
“Yes, Ethan can be extremely demanding, but he also had a strange upbringing.” Wilson looks around as if other people are around, and I suddenly remember there’s a cleaning lady downstairs. “It’s the only reason I still work for him. I feel sorry for the boy.”
I imagine Wilson raising a difficult teenager, being tasked by Ethan’s rich parents with following him around town and making sure he stays out of trouble, then staying on as his trusty servant years later. Takes guts and patience and suddenly, I really respect Wilson ten thousand times more than Ethan.
“I feel sorry for the baby,” I tell him, glancing back at the sleeping angel. “Guess she’s going to have a hard time, too, growing up with a guardian like him, huh?”
Wilson’s brown eyes take on a sad tilt, like he’s holding onto words better off left unsaid. “Indeed.”
“Good thing I’m here to help,” I tell him. Not trying to toot my own horn, but I’m sure glad Lilly Belle will at least have my smiling face to count on. Well, mine and Wilson’s. “What did they do to him?” I find myself asking the old man suddenly.
“Ethan?” He sighs, walks around the room, making sure everything is in place. “He wasn’t always this way. Used to be fun-loving. Sometimes he still is, when he comes home in a good mood and business is doing well, I’ll see glimpses of the boy I used to care for.” Wilson comes back to the door and taps the door frame. “Anyway, if there’s anything you need, you let me know. I’m at your service, Miss.”
“Thank you.” I watch him leave, shuffling down the hallway then slowly disappearing down the stairs. Then, I slide into the room next door and continue unpacking my things and trying to make a home for myself.
At night, I play with Lilly Belle, giving her plenty of tummy time, so she’ll roll over like she’s supposed to by this age. Seems like she’s a tad behind developmentally, but then again, she has been through a lot in her short life. No worries, though—I’ll get her back on track soon enough.
She’s a delightful child, and I’m so glad she’s as easy as she is, considering how tough it will be dealing with her uncle. After a warm lavender bath, a full bottle, and a lullaby or two, she’s ready for bed. I do hope she’ll sleep through ‘til morning, and after all the exercises I put her through tonight, she should sleep soundly.
I call my mom to let her know I’ve been fine, just busy the last three days, but the focus of the conversation shifts quickly. “That’s so great, honey. Just in time, too.”
“What do you mean?” I don’t like the tone in her voice, leading me to ask questions she’ll no doubt have a hard time answering. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, only that we’re late a couple of mortgage payments. The Etsy store isn’t bringing in enough money, your dad has been searching for something better, and I know I’m going to have to start looking for something full-time.”
“Ugh, Mom. I’m so sorry.”
My mother has been running an Etsy store of handmade scarves, which are absolutely beautiful, but not enough people appreciate artistry like hers, making for difficult bill-paying. “I’ll send you money as soon as I get paid,” I tell her, thinking how much it sucks to keep giving away half my paycheck. At this rate, I’ll never be able to pay for my winter semester.
I look around at the stylish furnishings, the mansion I get to live in, and feel guilty. My family needs the money more than I do. If I can stay employed by Ethan Townsend, that is.
“I didn’t want to worry you, Penelope, but I didn’t want to keep secrets from you either. You don’t have to send money. Well, maybe just a little to get us by. I’ll get a job by the end of the week, if it kills me.”
“What about the kids?”
“Patty can take care of Callie, and Nancy next door can watch Brandon, since she has two boys anyway. Don’t worry, we’ll make it work somehow.”
“Don’t worry” is my mom’s favorite phrase, and it does little to soothe my worries.
After hanging up, I move to the window and gaze out upon New York City at night. It’s then that I notice I have a balcony. An actual balcony facing the city. How did I not notice this before? Oh, yes, three busy days of child-care.
I open the French door and stand outside in the cool air. The full moon is out, absolutely gorgeous, and again, I feel guilty for having a view such as this. I hope things get better for my family. I get to look out upon Central Park and take care of a delightful little baby. It’s a blessing to give back to my family.
Lying in bed, I have trouble falling asleep. New surroundings, new sounds, and besides, I’m used to sleeping with very little on, but with Ethan Townsend set to come home any moment now, I’m wide awake. I wonder if he’ll go straight to the kitchen and living room like he usually does, or if he’ll go to his bedroom, which is on the other side of this wing. I know he never stops by to see Lilly Belle, which saddens me. Remembering his rule about keeping the door locked, I get up and follow orders then head for the bathroom.
Such a strange man.
But I have to remember what Wilson told me—his childhood upbringing wasn’t ideal. Something made him this way. I only wish I knew what that was. It’d help me understand him better.
I shu
ffle barefoot to the bathroom to rub water on my face. Maybe the cool air drifting through the slightly open French door will evaporate the moisture, creating a soothing effect. I still remember long nights as a child when I was sick, and my mother used to cool me off with a damp washcloth. Between that and her singing, I’d fall asleep right away. It’s worth a shot.
I return to bed and lie there staring up at the ceiling, my legs stretched out and my arms on either side. The chilly air works its magic, and I begin drifting off, thinking about the day, Ethan’s demands, his angular handsome face, his terrible attitude, and how mysterious he is. Does he ever have relationships? I wonder how a woman would get along with him.
But I keep coming back to Wilson saying there are other sides to him, which intrigues me.
Somewhere in the house, I hear footsteps. Wilson went home several hours ago, so it must be Ethan coming home from work.
After a while, I hear careful footsteps moving up the stairs. I don’t bother covering up, because I’m locked in my room, just like he demanded I be. For a moment, I allow myself to fantasize that I left the door open, that he comes in and sees me in my undies. And then what?
Would he yell at me? Would I beg him not to fire me by sucking his cock?
Jesus, Penelope, get a freakin’ grip.
Suddenly, I hear what sounds like a handle turning. I startle and sit up in bed, drawing the sheets up to my chin. But I locked the door. I know I did! I stare at the door but it doesn’t open and neither is the handle turning. Am I imagining it? I stand to double-check the lock but before I can test it, I see him standing in the bathroom doorway.
My heart stops. I can barely breathe. I wrap my arms around my torso, fighting off sudden chills. “Mr. Townsend…”
“I thought I told you to keep the door locked at night,” he growls, unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeved shirt and rolling them up. He has tattoos on his forearms.
