The Billionaire And The Nanny (Book One)

by Paige North

  He really is two different people.

  I wonder if there’s a way to get him to be one amalgam instead of two polar opposites.

  Once off the phone, Ethan goes back to playing nurse, fetching me cool towels to lay on my skin. I end up in the bathroom half the day, and I always ask him to go downstairs when I do, because I don’t want anyone near me when I’m audibly sick. I know you’re not supposed to care about things like that around people you trust, but my heart is confused about what it’s supposed to be feeling.

  When he returns to my room, it’s with Lilly Belle. He’s holding her in the doorway, and I have to say, my heart soars seeing him carrying her. He bounces her up and down. “She was worried about you. See? There she is. There’s your…nanny.” Mommy. He almost said Mommy. “She’s sick, just like you were, but she’s going to be okay. Okay?”

  Wilson slides into the picture to see if I need anything else, and it occurs to me that I’ve never had so many people taking care of me at the same time. At home, whenever I got sick, it was only my mom to care for me. My siblings were usually asked to stay out of the way, and my dad was almost always at work.

  “Why don’t you go home?” Ethan asks Wilson. “I got everything covered here.”

  “You sure?” Wilson is not convinced. Honestly, I’m not either. Who’s going to bathe Lilly Belle—him? Feed her, rock her, sing to her—him? Who’s going to change her diapers—him?

  “Yes, go. How hard can it be? Bring Miss Wallach chicken soup and crackers, give Miss Lilly Belle a chew toy now and again.” He shoots me a knowing smirk, bouncing the baby a little too much. I would tell him to do it less, except it’s really nice to see him connecting with his niece.

  His niece who will hopefully be his daughter one day. His mother’s words that night at the front door come back to haunt me. I just can’t bear the thought that Lilly may go to an adoption agency.

  Wilson pats him on the back. “Goodnight, folks. If you need anything, let me know. I’ll be right over. All the way from Brooklyn,” he adds facetiously. As he’s leaving, the old man eyes me over Ethan’s shoulder, makes the universal sign for “call me,” and points at Ethan. I laugh so hard, I almost have to use the bathroom again.

  I love that guy. Ethan doesn’t know how good he has it. Wilson has been taking care of him for years. I know—I’ve talked to him so many times now. The man has his own family in Brooklyn but comes up three times a week, more if needed. I asked him why he hasn’t retired yet, and his response?

  “Who will take care of Ethan?”

  Pretty sad. All he wants is to retire and live the rest of his life on a fishing boat off the coast of South Carolina where his extended family lives, but he’s still here because Ethan does need him.

  Ethan has nobody else in this world.

  My fever spikes again for what feels like the tenth time. I did not get the 24-hour variety of the stomach virus like Lilly Belle did, as it turns out. While Ethan goes through the baby’s bedtime routine all by himself, I vaguely remember telling him to wash his hands often, then I snooze in and out of consciousness, the state of mind reserved for the sick and those on mind-bending drugs. So far, he hasn’t called for help, and I’m surprised when Lilly Belle goes down without protest.

  She must be shocked that her uncle is helping. I’m shocked he’s helping.

  When he comes back to my room, he looks like he’s run a marathon. He lies down flat in the middle of the floor and tosses a small hand towel onto his chest. “How. The fuck. Do you do all that?”

  “And you only took care of her one night,” I remind him.

  After a minute’s rest, he gets back on his feet, sits at my bedside, and caresses my hair back. “You okay?”

  I close my eyes and just feel. His hands on my forehead. His fingers running through my hair. His soft breath near my cheek when he stoops low to hear my faint replies. His warm kiss on my cheek and his care, more than anything. Two sides to Ethan Townsend? I’d say three, four, at least.

  As he makes himself comfortable on my bed, I’m vaguely aware of him glancing at my open laptop, checking out my website, and making a few tech changes in the design.

  I let him. He’s only trying to help. Hey, I will gladly take all the free help I can get from a successful billionaire. But it’s his voice talking to me quietly about different things—about his evening with Lilly Belle, about business, about the Netflix episode we watched, about return on investment, about any topic he feels like mentioning—that makes me drift away. His soothing presence lulls me back to sleep, and I vaguely dream about hearing it at bedtime every night for the rest of my life.

  Ethan

  Had someone told me I’d be making dinner for other people while a baby bounces in her bouncy chair a few feet away, laughing at Wilson’s funny faces, like he’s her grandfather when I’m supposed to be at work making sure my company stays on target, I would’ve told them they’re on some serious drugs.

  Yet here I am, making a rosemary chicken recipe I found online, filling the house with serious herbal sorcery.

  Penelope’s still sick, but today was her first day without fever, so I hope she’ll be good to go sometime tomorrow. Taking care of Lilly Belle has been tough—I’m still a raw beginner when it comes to doing this stuff.

  She’s cute, though. Spending time with her this week has melted me. At this point, it’s going to hurt when she has to go…but does she have to go?

  I wouldn’t have even thought of really giving this situation a go, but Penelope getting sick changed things. I’ve surprised myself. Sometimes I actually enjoy taking care of Lilly. Of both of them, actually…

  “Is that chicken? Is that chicken your uncle’s cooking? Who knew? Who knew, Miss Lilly Belle?” Wilson’s face is an inch away from hers, giving her full access to slap and grab his nose as much as she pleases.

  “Hey, I’m a pretty good cook when I put my mind to it, old man. I just prefer not to.”

  “You just prefer not to do lots of things, kid.”

  I shoot him a look, point the spoon in his direction. “Don’t sass me.”

  “Somebody has to.” Brushing me off, he goes back to teasing the baby. There’s only one employee who can talk to me that way, and that’s Wilson. “And I don’t mean me.”

  Fine, make that two employees. What’s been going on with me? I set out to keep people at arms’ length, and now look at me, cooking for them like they’re family. I stare into the chicken sautéing in the olive oil.

  “She’s quite impressive, isn’t she?” Wilson picks up Lilly’s brown bear and taps her nose with it until she giggles. “It’s been good of you to take care of her.”

  I sigh in Lilly’s direction. “Yeah, she’s growing on me, Wilson. I have to admit.”

  “I was talking about Miss Wallach. She needed someone, Ethan, and you stepped in.”

  “What else would I have done? Send her home? Bring in a substitute nanny?”

  “Knowing you? Yes,” he says.

  “What do you mean, knowing me?” I scoff then shake my head. “Nobody could replace her, you know that. Ugh, fuck it, you’re right. I would’ve called for an in-house, full-time doctor to take care of them.”

  “But you didn’t,” Wilson reminds me with a nod. “Seems to me that these women are growing on you. A man needs a good woman in his life and you have two. Well, one is still in baby form, but you know what I mean.”

  I’ve been testing the waters these last few weeks, pretending like I’m important to Lilly Belle and Penelope, even to Wilson, but the truth is I’m nothing to them. I’m Mr. Moneybags, that’s it. It’s the only reason people do what I say, listen to my opinion, or have any respect for me. Because I got the cash they want.

  I want to be more, but I’m not really ready. And I don’t think I ever could be.

  The damage is all still there. The demons, the bad memories, all of it.

  “You’re quiet, Ethan.”

  “Yes, Wilson. I’m quiet. You know
why—I can’t do this.” I don’t have to extrapolate what I mean. He knows. He’s always known what I’m feeling. He was there for some of it. Not the worst, perhaps, but enough to understand the realities I face.

  After a few minutes of quiet, I turn off the rice and begin plating the food. Wilson says, “Are you proceeding with the adoption?”

  “Shh…” I cut him a look. I don’t want to talk about it in case Penelope can overhear. I resort to whispering. “I don’t know. I should. That was the plan. Another part of the plan was not to get emotionally involved, because I knew this would happen.”

  “What would happen?”

  “This. Indecision. And then emotion would cloud my judgment. But I haven’t been listening to my intuition, and now look where we are. This isn’t what’s best for her.”

  “I disagree,” Wilson says. “I think you have been listening to your intuition, and that’s why you’re cooking for your family, Ethan.”

  I spin around and face him. “Don’t say that again.”

  He throws his hands back and shrugs. “I’m just sayin’. If you decide on giving her up, I’ll support you, if you truly feel that’s what’s best, but I think you’re discrediting your abilities, Ethan. And your wants.”

  “My wants don’t factor in, Wilson. When have I ever gotten what I wanted in this life?”

  “You’ve gotten everything.”

  “Everything except the one thing I wanted most, and you know it.” I sound like a bitter man, and I know it. Yes, I realize I have a lot more than most people. I’m grateful for it, but what does it matter having everything money could buy if you can’t commit to sharing it with anyone?

  Wilson sits at the counter to eat, digging in. “Mmm, really good.”

  I don’t say anything. He’s trying to make me think. I won’t do it.

  “You can’t keep souls apart, Ethan.” He shakes his head, looking down at his food. “No matter what you do. You can try, but they’ll always find each other again.”

  Fuck me, the guilt. “Yes, I know that separating them is going to suck.” Lilly Belle without Penelope would be traumatic at first, but hopefully she won’t remember a thing since she’s still so young. I scoop up some chicken, testing it before I serve a plate for Penelope. My creation tastes pretty damn good.

  “I was talking about the three of you.”

  Before I can formulate a reply in the way of “stay out of my business, you old fart,” she appears at the kitchen door dressed in pink pajamas. “Something smells so good, I had to come down.” Penelope waves at us, and Lilly Belle begins a chair dance at the sound of her voice so hard, I think she’s going to fly out of her seat. “Sweet pea!” Penelope makes a beeline for the baby.

  “I was just bringing you dinner,” I say, while simultaneously hoping that she did not hear any part of that conversation. While Wilson reaches for a placemat, napkin, and silverware to set down next to him, I lay the plate on top and pour her a glass of water.

  “I’m starving. Wow, this looks five-star-restaurant-worthy!” Penelope takes a seat and digs in like a hellhound tearing into its kill. Holy shit, the girl can eat. It occurs to me that I’ve never taken her anywhere for dinner. So many amazing restaurants in NYC. I’m suddenly filled with the desire to show them all to her, but I wouldn’t know where to begin.

  “Ethan is good at many things,” Wilson says. I give him the “stop, please” look and take my seat next to Penelope. The four of us, sitting together at the table, eating a home-cooked meal. Four of us—my butler, the nanny, the foster child, and me. They eat and talk while I can only sit here staring at them as though their voices are coming from behind glass, and I’m outside of myself.

  Wilson’s right—we’re like a family.

  I’m about to stand and excuse myself. I can’t take feeling like I’ve been given something good. Good, wholesome things don’t come to me. They don’t. I didn’t get that card growing up. But I decide, for once, not to run away from what I’m feeling.

  Stay and fight it.

  Stay and give in.

  So, I do. And it’s the best time I’ve had in a long time.

  That evening, I decide to do it again. Push past the fear. Take things to the next level with Penelope. What’s the worst that could happen? If it doesn’t work out, which it probably won’t, then my life goes back to the way it was before. Nothing lost. In business, there’s a saying: you don’t invest more than you’re willing to lose. I haven’t completely invested in Penelope and me at this point. I’ve been on the fence, but tonight showed me there could be more.

  And I’m fucking terrified.

  I arrive at her room right at midnight. All is quiet, except for the sounds of tapping on her laptop. Checking her room, I find it locked. Disappointed, I’m ready to turn around, convinced that she doesn’t think it’s wise to move forward, she’s changed her mind, when I remember that’s not how I came in last time. The bathroom door to the hallway gives way.

  I walk in quietly, knocking on the door. “Hey,” I say, trying not to scare her. “You’re working.”

  “Yeah, trying to catch up. I love what you did to my website. Thank you.”

  “Oh, you’re welcome. There was too much clutter. You want your home page to sell an idea, something that your client could get if they used you as a PR person, not your actual service. For example, ‘With us, you get peace of mind.’”

  “I know, I love it, seriously.” She closes the laptop and stands, pushing her hair behind her ears, wrapping her arms around herself. Unsure gesture. I guess I should explain why I’m here.

  “I wanted to ask you something.” I walk in and take her by the hand. “I wanted to know if you wanted to go out with me. Sometime this week, whenever you have time.”

  She sniffs a laugh. “I don’t know.”

  Not the answer I was hoping for. “You don’t know?”

  “Yeah, my boss…he says I’m not allowed to have a social life while working here, you know. He specifically said I have to act like the baby’s mom, and that’s what I’ve been trying to do.”

  “Doing. It’s what you’ve been successfully doing.” I pull her in close. “How about I talk to your boss and pull a few strings. Would you go out with me then?”

  “I think that would be acceptable, but will your nanny let you go out?”

  “My nanny? You mean…”

  “You know…Wilson—your nanny.” She bites her lip to keep from laughing. “I know you think you’re too old for one, but I don’t know…he keeps a pretty close watch on you. You better ask him for permission just in case.” She’s fucking with me. I pinch her waist just for that remark.

  Her laughs lights up the room. I take her face and kiss her cheeks, her forehead, then her lips. That wasn’t so bad, asking her out on a date. Delicate arms wrap around my shoulders, drawing me in. “Thank you for the invitation. I thought you’d never ask. And for coming to my room again. I’ve been fantasizing about it for weeks.”

  “Have you now?” I kiss her deeply, tasting her lips and tongue and drawing from her strong energy tonight. It’s so nice to see her feeling herself again. I’m immediately hard and wanting her.

  “Yes. I’ve had this great balcony all this time and haven’t used it not even once.” Evil smile. Wicked woman.

  “We need to fix that immediately,” I say, taking her hand, the comforter off her bed, and trailing it behind us onto the balcony. The quarter moon is just visible above the tall buildings, and the city is alive, as usual. I sit in the big chair outside and slide her onto my lap. Now she can feel my solid hardness for herself.

  No more talking. No dirty words this time, either.

  Something has clicked on inside of me, and I don’t feel the need right now. Tonight is different. I slide my hands up her tank top, cupping her breasts and feeling the slight weight to them, pinching her nipples and playing with them while she writhes against me with her ass pressed against my crotch. The pants come off, the shirt too, everything until
we’re both naked underneath the comforter against the city skyline. Feels good.

  Alive.

  The fall chill breezes over us, but under the blanket, we’re warm and growing hotter, as she slides her slick, wet pussy over my cock, taking it in her hand and guiding it into her. She’s tight and warm and pulsating with need, and I can’t exercise any patience.

  I drive into her—hard—without waiting.

  She moans and leans back against my chest, her head on my shoulder, and the whole thing happens quickly, as I pat my fingers against her core and rub her in circles with increasing urgency. My woman. I won’t deny myself anymore. Whatever happens, happens. Fuck it. And it does, as she makes love to me under the moon, over the bustling city, bouncing on my cock and taking us to that next level.

  And I don’t mean the orgasm that rises and ebbs over her at that moment or the way she calls out my name while she’s coming so hard, she has to hold onto my head to keep from sliding off my cock. I’m not talking about how quickly it takes me to spill my seed deep into her, something that rarely happens thanks to how desensitized I can be with some women. I’m talking about this—her—us—changing me.

  I’m talking about loving her.

  Penelope

  When I first arrived here, I was turned down, told “no.”

  Now I’m sitting in a limo next to the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met—complicated and difficult, yeah—but also sweet at times. The same man who told me to leave on the first day. I literally had nothing to wear when our date night arrived. I didn’t exactly bring going-out clothes to the Townsend Mansion for my nanny position, so Ethan sent me off earlier today to buy something to wear for dinner. Even though he handed me $500 in cash to spend, I found a pretty black lace dress for just under $100, and I paid for it myself.

  When we arrive at the restaurant called Hamel’s, a nice tapas-style place, people watch us arrive. At the door and inside, everyone knows Ethan by name, and it’s the first time I really feel like I’m with someone famous. He looks amazing in his nice pants, shirt, and dinner jacket. It’s an old-fashioned style that he pulls off because he’s got great hair, an impeccable taste for clothes, and because he just looks…rich.