by Naomi Niles
"I said you can't come today. How about next week?"
"Too bad. The judge has issued me a warrant. If you want to deny it, I'd be happy to arrest you first and then complete my search."
"Fuck you," I growled. The asshole had gotten under my skin, and I was struggling not to lose my temper.
"No thanks. I'm not your nanny," he taunted. I wanted to punch him in his fat gut. "See you soon."
True to his word, Miller pulled up to the house in less than an hour with a forensics unit and two squad cars.
The team of bodyguards from Brighton Security was just in the midst of dispensing the crowd when Miller and his convoy arrived. It gave Scott the distraction he needed to pull the car through the gates, but it did nothing for my public image. The reporters ran from the car to the fence, snapping photos of the police officers and forensic investigators as they entered the house.
Before Miller even arrived, they used their long lenses to snap photos of Rachelle, and to my great displeasure, Halle, as they got out of the car and ran into the house. Rachelle tried to shield Halle's face, but there were so many cameras from so many different angles, it was impossible. There was no doubt in my mind that the pictures would be all over the morning news.
That wasn't what was important now, though.
I knelt down on one knee and spread my arms wide as Halle entered the front door and ran into my arms.
"Daddy!" she cried out. I hugged her tight as she wrapped her arms around my neck.
"Are you okay, sweetheart?"
"Daddy, the people yelled and shook the car. I was scared." Tears stung her eyes, threatening to spill down her rosy cheeks and my heart broke for her. Such an ordeal was terrifying enough for an adult. No child as young as Halle was should have to bear such a thing.
"I'm sorry they scared you. You're safe now. I won't let anyone hurt you." I stroked her dark curls and a smile dimpled her cheeks.
"Rachelle took care of me. She's brave." Halle beamed.
"Yes, she is." I smiled gratefully at Rachelle. She looked emotionally exhausted, but relieved as she stood in the hall with her hands clasped. I stood up and reached out my hands to her. "Thank you for everything. I'm so sorry you had to go through that. I've hired extra security guards to make sure it never happens again."
"I know it's not your fault. Don't worry. It looks like they're here now." Rachelle said indicating Miller and his men walking through the door.
Luckily, most of the reporters had already been escorted off the property, but I wouldn't be surprised if a few pictures of them ended up on the front page of the newspaper, as well. Americans loved a good murder story, and one involving a billionaire was too good to resist.
I opened the door for Miller, who handed me the search warrant without my even having to ask for it.
"Please come in," I invited him in sarcastically.
"And who's this?" Miller held out his hand towards Rachelle's and shook it firmly.
"This is my daughter's new nanny, Rachelle Clare," I said, and she gave him a friendly smile.
He released her hand and looked her up and down. Then he gave me a sideways glance and said lewdly, "Looks like somebody has a type."
"What does that mean?" Rachelle seemed taken aback, and Miller gloated meanly in response.
"Short dress, knee socks, hair pulled back, early twenties," Miller said, looking her up and down. "Be careful. You know what happened to the last girl he hired that fit your exact description? I'd hate to have to perform this same investigation for you, too."
Rachelle looked back at me with a stunned expression in her eyes. I was seething with rage. How dare this asshole detective make those kinds of sleazy implications in front of Rachelle to make her fear me, especially in front of Halle. Luckily, my daughter was too young to understand just what Miller had said, but it was clear from the worried expression on her little face that she was picking up the tension in the room.
"I want to go play," she fussed. She was squirming in my arms, and so I let her go.
She ran to Rachelle, and I said to her, "Please take Halle back to the nursery. The detective and I have business."
Nodding her head, Rachelle took Halle by the hand and led her away. Just then, a knock came on the front door. It was my attorney, Thomas Tandy, and not a moment too soon.
"I got your message and came right over." Tandy shook my hand as I let him in. I'd called him while I was waiting for Miller to arrive, and when I got his voicemail, I'd been worried he was in a meeting. I shouldn't have feared. Tandy had never let me down yet. He charged a fortune, but he was worth it. If anybody could get me out of this mess, it was him.
As he entered the house, Tandy looked at Miller with cool detachment, and I mused how the two men were so completely different, yet equals. One, a rough, middle-aged cop, with thinning hair, a paunchy gut, and a scarred face. The other, a distinguished attorney with a tailored suit and slicked-back hair that matched his slicked back attitude. The two men squared off to each other, and I was just a pawn stuck in the middle.
"Let's begin," I said, trying to regain some authority in my own home. I wasn't anxious to let the detective search my house. God knows what he might find, but I was anxious to get this whole thing over, so that just maybe I could get my life back.
Chapter Fourteen: Rachelle
I stood in front of the long mirror on my bedroom wall and twirled, making the short, rose-colored skirt flair around me like the petals of a flower. I'd paired it with a pretty blouse with a delicate floral print, white knee-high stockings, and black loafers with gold buckles. My pale blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a matching rose-colored ribbon tied in a bow.
I felt pretty as I admired my reflection in the mirror, and I couldn't wait to show Tate the new outfit he had bought for me several days before. He was an incredibly busy man, with many important things to do every day, but he always took the time to come see me when I was working in the nursery. We'd talk and flirt, and he'd always take the time to compliment my clothes.
At first, I had thought the dress code he demanded sounded dreary and boring, but since I'd gone on the little shopping spree generously funded by him, I'd come to realize that it didn't have to be. I could be cute, pretty, even sexy in the little skirts and low-heeled shoes.
I felt alive and alluring in the girlish outfits, especially when I saw the look of desire smoldering in Tate's eyes whenever he looked at me. I liked knowing I could produce that kind of reaction in him. It was fun and gave me a sense of confidence I'd never had before.
I just wondered when he'd finally invite me to have sex with him again. When I'd first learned I was contractually obligated to fuck him, I'd been upset. Then I came to accept it, and even look forward to it. Now I found myself yearning for it, wondering when that day would finally come.
I started going out of my way to dress up for him, hoping to turn him on. Today, I'd done my best to make myself look like the perfect sexy nanny, both sensuous and sweet, naughty and naive. Maybe later today he would call me into his office while Halle took her nap and take me passionately like he had the other night, making me orgasm like no one else ever had. God, I hoped so.
Satisfied with my appearance, I went to the nursery to find Halle sitting in her bed, playing with the stuffed giraffe she'd slept with. She had wrapped her special pink blanket around its long and spotted neck like the cape of a superhero and was making it prance around her bed.
"Good morning, sleepyhead. Did you have good dreams last night?" I asked her with a smile.
"Rachelle! My giraffe is hungry." She greeted me with a happy grin. I could see so much of her father in her when she did, and it made my heart flutter. Someday I hoped to have a family of my own, with a daughter as sweet as Halle and a husband as kind and masculine as Tate. It was a far-fetched fantasy, but my role as nanny gave me a small taste of the future I longed for.
"Well, let's get you dressed for the day, and we'll get both you and giraffe some bre
akfast," I said to Halle as I scooped her out of bed.
I dressed her in a pink cotton dress (her favorite color) with white butterflies printed on it, pink tights, and black Mary Jane shoes. Then I brushed her chocolate curls so they bounced just above her shoulders and tied a pink ribbon on top. She looked like a princess, and I felt proud of my charge.
We walked to the kitchen ready to eat, and I was surprised to find it empty.
"Where's Stuart?" Halle voiced my thoughts, and I saw her hazel eyes grow large with worry. Pouting out her lower lip, she said, "I'm hungry."
"Don't worry, sweetie. He probably had something he had to do this morning, like an appointment or work with your dad. I'm sure he'll be here in time for lunch. In the meanwhile, I'll make you some breakfast."
"You can make breakfast?" She sounded surprised, and I couldn't help but laugh.
"Of course, I can make breakfast. Watch this." I lifted her up so she could sit on the granite countertop and started pulling dishes out of the fancy oak cupboards. I found the flour, eggs, butter, and maple syrup. Soon, I had pancakes cooking in a skillet while she watched and clapped her hands.
"What's this mess?" I was startled by the angry voice of Emma as she burst into the kitchen with a broom and dustpan in her hands. Her gray hair was pulled back in the same tight bun she always wore, and her black dress was scuffed with dust from her duties as the maid.
"Don't worry; I'll clean it up," I said to her.
"You'd better. I have my own work to do, and Stuart won't like to come to work to find you've trashed his kitchen. You shouldn't be here, anyway."
"He instructed me to cook for Halle and Tate when he was gone," I stated defensively. There was something about her tone that always made me feel attacked, and I was getting sick of it.
"Oh, it's Tate, is it now." Her emphasis on his name made it clear that she thought it was wrong of me to address our employer so informally. She sneered and said, "I bet you do everything for Mr. Holland, don't you?"
"What exactly does that mean?" I snapped, as Halle stared at us with wide eyes. The little girl was always especially quiet around the grumpy maid, and I didn't blame her for being intimidated by her.
"Nothing," Emma said crudely. "I just noticed that you're following the dress code now. I knew you'd fall in line sooner or later."
"Of course, I'm adhering to the dress code. Isn't that what you're supposed to do for an employer?"
"Sure it is. And I bet you do a lot of things for your employer." Her innuendo was obvious, and despite every effort not to, I felt myself blushing. The betrayal of my body frustrated me, for it confirmed her suspicions that I’d had sex with Tate, and there was no credible way for me to deny it. I just stood there with my mouth gaping open like a fool, trying not to make a scene in front of Halle.
Emma continued, "Don't look so surprised. Mr. Holland likes having his dalliances with the help. You're not the first, and you won't be the last."
Then she turned on her heel and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving me feeling stunned. No wonder she always acted so rude to me. She was sleeping with Tate, too, and clearly jealous that I was the other woman. It surprised me that he could be sexually attracted to a woman who was in her fifties like that. But I was sleeping with an older man, so why couldn't he sleep with an older woman? Then again, perhaps he was replacing her with me. If that were the case, no wonder she hated me.
"The pancakes are burning!" Halle cried out suddenly and shocked me out of my daze.
"Shit!" I cried out and quickly yanked the skillet off the burner and threw it into the sink. Black smoke was billowing from it, and Halle started to cry.
"It's okay, sweetie," I soothed as I lifted her down from the counter. I set her at the dining room table in the next room and dried her eyes with a soft cloth. Once she was calmed, I poured her a bowl of cereal with milk. She took her spoon and started eating happily.
"Yummy!" She grinned as she shoveled a spoonful in her mouth. "Giraffe likes it too."
"I'm glad. You be a good girl and sit here and eat your breakfast. I'm going back into the kitchen to clean up the mess I made. Afterwards, we'll go out to the garden, and you can play."
"Okay." Halle nodded agreeably. It wouldn't take me long to wash up the few dishes I'd dirtied. I was just filling the sink with soapy water Stuart finally arrived, looking startled to see me.
He saw the skillet smoking in the sink, and the dirty bowls and measuring cups littering the counter and shot me an angry glare.
"What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?"
"I'm sorry, I was just cooking Halle some breakfast," I stammered. Now he was mad at me, too. At this rate, I was never going to get the rest of the staff to like me.
Snarling at me, he said, "Well, stick to the places where you belong, like the nursery and Mr. Holland's bedroom."
"Emma told you about that?" I was mortified.
"She didn't have to. We all know what's going on up there." He looked at me like I was pure filth, and I felt completely ashamed.
Tears sprang to my eyes, but I forced them back. I would not let these judgmental jerks see that they had gotten to me. Standing tall, I said to him, "Tate and I have developed an intimate relationship, but so what? Emma said I'm not the only one. So if Tate is sleeping with her, too, you have no right to hate me and not her. You're both nothing but a bunch of hypocrites."
Stuart scoffed with surprise. "Emma's not sleeping with Mr. Holland. Only the worst kind of whore would sleep with her boss for money."
"If Emma isn't the other women, then who?" I was reeling from the ferocity of his attack on me. He didn't understand. He was judging me based on only half-truths. It was awful, but what he said next made everything even worse.
"The last nanny had an intimate relationship with Mr. Holland, too. He made her wear the same kind of clothes as you, with short little skirts that showed off her legs, and her hair pulled back in a ponytail like a little girl, just like he makes you do. He used to fuck her all over this house, until one day she didn't want to anymore. And then..."
I didn't want to believe his story. He was just trying to get to me; and yet he had already sucked me in. Breathlessly, I asked, "Then what?"
"Then she wound up dead. Emma found her on his bedroom floor, naked, with blood matting her hair. It was the most horrific thing she'd ever seen. She almost quit that day, but I warned her not to. Mr. Tate likes things his way, and if he doesn't get them, then bad things happen. Just ask Rose."
"So she was killed in Tate's room. That doesn't mean he did it." I swallowed down the lump in my throat and locked my knees to keep my legs from shaking.
"No, but the previous nanny before Rose just disappeared one day and was never seen again. Then Rose winds up dead in his bedroom with no clothes on. Now he's doing the same thing with you, but how long will it be before something happens to you, too?"
"Tate would never hurt me or anyone else," I said, but I wasn't sure if I believed it.
I forced myself to remember how sweet he was with Halle, and how kind he had been with me. The memory of his mouth on my body made me wet again. He couldn't be the monster that everyone thought he was.
"You don't need to believe me; just watch your back."
"Why would you bother to warn me? I'm sure Emma would be happier if I were gone."
"Gone, but not dead. Emma and I are hard on you because we like you. We don't want to see you end up murdered like Rose. Emma thinks that if she can drive you away by being rude to you, it just might save your life."
I was dumbfounded. I never would have guessed that crabby bitch actually cared so much for my wellbeing, or Stuart either, for that matter.
"Thanks, but I can take care of myself." I smiled at him gently.
"All right, suit yourself." Just then I heard Halle calling for me from dining room, and I had to excuse myself from the kitchen to take care of her.
Stuart's words continued to haunt me for the rest of the day, and Emma's, too. It
was strange to think that Tate had a sexual relationship with two nannies before me, and now they were both gone – one murdered and one disappeared.
At first, I had found the taboo nature of sleeping with my boss exciting, but now I wondered if it wasn't also dangerous. Maybe Stuart and Emma really did have my best interests at heart, or maybe they were simply telling me lies born out of jealousy. There was no way to know for sure. All I knew for certain was that when Tate and were together, I felt desirable.
I forced the thoughts from my mind and tried to concentrate on taking care of Halle. She was the one true innocent in all this intrigue. Sweet and kind, intelligent and caring; she was everything I wanted in my own little girl when I had children one day.
I was just laying Halle down for her afternoon nap when Tate suddenly stuck his head in the nursery door.
"How's it going today?" he asked with a flirtatious grin.
"Fine," I lied, unwilling to tell him about the altercations I'd had earlier that morning and the doubts now swirling around in my mind.
He looked me up and down with an appreciative grin. "Wow, you look really great in that outfit."
"Thanks." I blushed at the compliment. I could feel my nipples harden with arousal and when I looked down, they were protruding through the delicate fabric of my blouse. It was obvious Tate could see them, too, as his gaze fixated on them.
"Come to my office when you have a chance. I need to see you." His voice was voice was thick with desire. At last, the moment I'd been hoping for. Only now I wasn't sure if I still wanted to.
He left then, and I returned my attention to Halle. I sang her a song until she was fast asleep and I was free to do whatever I chose. This would be the perfect time to see what Tate wanted, but the words of Emma and Stuart kept echoing in my mind, and I wasn't sure if I should.
It was clear they both despised me for sleeping with him. They thought I was a whore, and he was a monster who was using and abusing me. Then again, what would happen if I didn't? They also thought he was dangerous, and possibly murdered women who turned him down. Whether I slept with Tate or not, I was making a terrible mistake.
