The Nanny (A Billionaire Romance)

by Naomi Niles

  There was only one thing I could do: follow my heart. So I closed the nursery door, walked down the hall to his study, and knocked softly on the door.

  Chapter Fifteen: Tate

  "Come in." Rachelle peeked her head in the door of my study. She saw at once that I was on the phone, and stopped abruptly, but I waved my hand, gesturing for her to come in and sit down.

  She sat on one of the comfortable leather chairs in front of me, looking beautiful and sexy as ever, but I could tell at once that something was bothering her. She tried to hide it, but I picked up on subtle clues, like the tension in the muscles of her neck and the way she kept her fingers locked together. Usually, she was relaxed and free when I visited her in the nursery, or we had meals together, and I wondered what was on her mind. Perhaps she already knew the bad news I was about to deliver.

  "Thanks, Tom," I said into the phone. I was speaking to Thomas Tandy, and I knew Rachelle wouldn't mind waiting for me to finish the call.

  "I want you to do everything you can to make sure it never happens again. I'll pay whatever it costs to press charges, file restraining orders, anything. I've already got Brighton Security drawing up plans to build a more secure privacy fence and to increase security around the house. No one will be going in or out. I'll be conducting all business by phone or computer. Consider this place in lockdown mode."

  With those last words, I saw Rachelle's head snap to look at me with startled eyes, and I realized maybe she didn't know about what had happened after all. She looked so scared, I figured I'd better explain. Speaking to Tom, I said, "Listen, I need to go, and I know you have a lot of work to do. Call me later with an update."

  I hung up the phone and turned to Rachelle. She trembled as she said to me, "What do you mean the house is on lockdown? Are you saying I can't leave if I want to? That I'm a prisoner?"

  "No, not at all." I rushed around the desk to comfort her, but she took my approach as an act of aggression and rose from her chair with her hands held up defensively. I reached out to hold her, and she backed away from me with an expression of panic in her eyes.

  I stopped and took a step back, widening the distance between us so she felt safer. Then I spoke in a calm and gentle voice, trying to soothe her. "You're not a prisoner. The front door opens, and you can leave whenever you want, but I want you to consider this house to be a safe fortress where you can hide away and be protected from all the dangers of the outside world by locking others out. That's what I meant by lockdown."

  "I don't think it's the outside world that I need to be afraid of," Rachelle said cryptically, but I didn't allow myself to be distracted by her words. There was something I needed to tell her.

  "Listen, something happened the last time you went out." I decided just to be blunt. I grabbed the laptop from my desk and pulled up the internet. Dozens of images filled the screen, and I showed them to Rachelle, letting her absorb them in silence for a moment.

  "That's me." She grabbed the laptop and started scrolling through the barrage of stories and photographs. “Tate Holland's New Nympho Nanny,” one headline read. Another said, “New Nanny's Wild Shopping Spree: she must be tucking in more than the child to afford Gucci.”

  The accompanying pictures clearly showed her walking through the shops on Rodeo Drive, picking out clothes with Halle. One photographer had caught images of her eating French fries at a restaurant, another of her sitting in a salon. The most common photo displayed was an image of her in a lingerie shop, holding up a lacy bra to her bosom and smiling.

  I could see at once how upset Rachelle was by the salacious headlines that accompanied the photographs, and I prayed she wouldn't quit. She was easily the best thing that had happened to me and Halle in a long time, and I didn't want to lose her.

  "How did they get these?" she asked, her voice a near whisper.

  "I've been doing everything I can to protect your privacy from the media," I told her. "That's why I insisted that you live in the mansion, so the damn paparazzi couldn't take pictures of you coming and going from work each day; but they found out about your little shopping trip with Halle a few days ago, and this is what happened."

  "They know my name, my age, my work history…" Tears sprang to her eyes as she read the articles. "They talked to my best friend from high school and the man who picks up the garbage at my apartment building. How did they find out all this information about me? Some of it's not even true! I never dated this asshole." She pointed at a picture of a sleazy looking guy with a thin mustache. The image was badly photoshopped to show his arm around her in the most unconvincing way. Rachelle cried out angrily, "He and I had one class together in high school, and that was it!"

  She was pissed off now, and I understood how violated she must feel. I was used to living under a microscope. She wasn't. I gently took the laptop from her, set it on my desk, and closed the top so she wouldn't have to see the salacious stories anymore. Then I reached for her hand, and this time she let me take it.

  "I'm not going to let this happen again," I promised. "You and Halle won't ever need to leave the house. Anything you need, I'll have delivered by a special courier service I know and trust."

  "Halle's not going to be happy about that. She's been asking to go to the zoo," Rachelle said sadly.

  "Yes, it's her favorite outing. I always give her nanny Sundays off, so she and I can spend some quality time together. I take her anywhere she wants to go. She always picked the zoo. She loved looking at the giraffes most of all. I used to take her there to see them every Sunday."

  "Why did you stop?" Rachelle picked up on my use of the phrase used to. She was a sharp girl, as well as being incredibly sexy.

  I hesitated to tell her, but she deserved to know the truth. With a heavy sigh, I said, "The last time I took Halle to the zoo was the day that Rose was murdered. We came home to find police officers carrying her body out on a gurney. It was horrific, and I thought Halle would never want to go to the zoo again."

  "Well, she doesn't associate the traumatic event with the zoo. She mentions wanting to go with you all the time, especially when playing with that stuffed giraffe that she loves almost as much as her pink blanket."

  Knowing my little daughter still had fond memories of our special outing together was a huge relief and made me smile. I didn't realize how worried I'd been about it until I heard Rachelle's assuring words. Now it was like a weight had been lifted from my chest, and I could breathe again.

  My relief was short-lived, though, as a new thought darkened my mind. "Unfortunately, I can't take her to the zoo until the media frenzy dies down. They'd follow us everywhere we went, scaring the animals – and Halle along with them. She's going to have to stay within the confines of the mansion until this whole murder investigation is over."

  "She'll be fine. I'll keep her busy with activities in the nursery, and she can go outside to the garden for fresh air," Rachelle comforted me, and I felt grateful for her kindness. She really was a sweet girl, whose compassion matched her beauty.

  "Thank you." I squeezed her hand. I wanted to do more – a lot more. I wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her. I wanted to rip off her clothes, throw her onto my desk like I did that first night we were together, and fuck her until she came all over my cock.

  But, I couldn't. It wasn't the right time, and I had so many things I had to do.

  Releasing her hand, I walked around my desk to sit in my chair. I turned my laptop to face me and reopened the lid, putting on an expression of business.

  "Thanks for stopping in, but I'm afraid I must get back to work," I said, indicating for her to leave, but to my surprise, Rachelle just stood there, looking at me with a silent expression of seriousness.

  "Is something wrong?"

  "Actually, there is," she said.

  I suddenly felt tense, and the room was inexplicably stuffy. I didn't want to ask, in case it was something bad. Maybe Halle had gotten sick, or Rachelle's mother had gotten worse, and she needed to go home. Ma
ybe she couldn't take the strain of the media. Maybe was quitting. A million scenarios ran through my mind, and none of them were good.

  Still, I hadn't gotten to be a billionaire by ignoring tough situations. I faced them head on, no matter what, and found a way to resolve them.

  "What is it?" My throat was so dry I could barely ask the question.

  Rachelle shifted from one foot to the other, and for a moment I thought she might back out. But then she drew in a breath for courage and looked me right in the eye.

  "I came here because I needed to discuss something with you. I have to clear the air about something, and it can't wait any longer."

  Oh shit. I didn't know what it was, but I knew it wouldn't be good.

  Chapter Sixteen: Rachelle

  "What is it?" Tate's naturally tan complexion and gone pale white, and his face was as expressionless as a stone. He was normally so friendly and kind; I knew at once that he was worried about what I was going to say. Well, that suited me fine. I was tired of being the one who was scared in the face of all his power. Perhaps it was time to turn the tables and make him the one who needed to answer to me.

  "It's about the dress code," I stated, and he blinked in surprise.

  "The dress code? What could you possibly have to clear the air about concerning that? I paid to buy you a new wardrobe, and I must say, the clothes you picked out look perfect on you. I've never seen you looking sexier." Tate leered playfully, but I wasn't laughing.

  "Is that because they make me look like someone else?" I fired at him, and he stood up from his desk as if I'd slapped him.

  "Rachelle, you have to know that I like you for you. I don't want you change to be someone else," he said with an earnest expression, but I wasn't falling for it.

  "No, you just want me to look like someone else. You want me to dress in the same kind of clothes Rose wore, pull my hair back like she did. Everybody says so – Detective Miller, Emma, Stuart, even Halle. You're trying to turn me into her."

  "Rose was employed in the same position that you are, as the nanny. Every position in his household had a dress code. I ask you to wear dresses or skirts, just like the chauffeur must wear a suit, the maid must wear a black dress, and the chef must wear a white smock. I ask you to dress that way because it's the uniform for the position, not because I want you to look like Rose."

  His words made sense, but I realized at that moment there was something else I was upset about. Something else I had heard from Emma and Stuart.

  "Did you have sex with her, too?" I asked.

  "Of course, I fucked Rose. It was part of her duties to satisfy my sexual needs." He said it matter-of-factly, and although I knew it was part of the job of being a nanny from my own contract, hearing him say it aloud still left me feeling hurt and disappointed.

  "Is the duty of the other employees to have sex with you, too?" I snapped.

  "What? Like who? Emma's nearly sixty, and Stuart and Scott are both men."

  "I don't know, maybe you have arrangements with your tailor, or your gardener, or the girl who delivers your dry-cleaning. Emma told me I wasn't the only one, but she didn't tell me who else you were sleeping with."

  "Well, Emma was mistaken. I wish she hadn't said that you." He frowned. Then his expression softened as he gazed into my eyes. "I'm not having sex with anyone other than you."

  "No one? Not even the women you go out on dates with?" I pressed.

  Laughter smiled in his hazel eyes, as he kissed my lips. "No, there's no one else. I'm not dating anyone right now, and even if I were, you're the only woman I want to fuck."

  "Really?" I asked again. I had to be sure.

  "Do you want me to have sex with someone else?" he teased me.

  "No. Definitely not. I want to know that I'm the only one."

  "My, you're a jealous little thing," Tate teased me lovingly, but he looked like he was enjoying it. He wrapped his arms around my body and pulled me close to him. "Why do you care if I'm sleeping with anyone else? You said yourself that this is just a business arrangement."

  "Because I don't mind being the woman you hired to fulfill your sexual needs, but I refuse to be the other woman. If you had a wife, or even a girlfriend, I would have to decline, no matter what the cost or penalty was. I know it sounds silly to have moral standards when I'm basically a prostitute, but it's how I feel. You can't have sex with any other women in your life if we're going to be intimate with each other. Only me."

  "I feel the same way," Tate whispered. His lips were very close to mine and his hands were caressing the curves of my breasts over my clothes. "I don't want to have torrid affairs with masses of women. I just want to have sex with one woman at a time. That's why I decided to make this arrangement. It's easier when it's with a hired employee – but I don't consider you to be a prostitute."

  "You don't? But you pay me to have sex with you." I was confused. How could he see me differently than I saw myself?

  "I pay you to be Halle’s nanny. You're a beautiful, sexy nanny with an incredible body that makes me horny twenty-four hours a day. You're all I can think about when I'm awake, and all I dream about at night. If I couldn't fuck you, I'd go mad. You're not my prostitute; you're my obsession."

  "I see." I blushed. I liked the sound of what he was saying, and my body quivered with sexual excitement as he cupped my right breast and squeezed it sensuously.

  Then he took me with his mouth in a long and passionate embrace. His probing tongue forced my lips apart and tangled with my own. A soft moan of pleasure escaped my lips.

  He turned me slowly in his arms so my back was to his desk. I leaned back against it, resting my butt against the edge of the wooden surface as he kept kissing me and running his hands up and down my body. Then he sunk down to his knees in front of me.

  Tate ran his hands up my legs, spreading my thighs wide and sighing with appreciation.

  "You're not wearing any panties," he said as he lifted my skirt, exposing my freshly-shaved vagina.

  "You told me not to," I said playfully. "I figured it was part of the dress code."

  "No, that's just for me, so I can do this." He brought his mouth to the flesh of bare pussy, and tingles of sexual pleasure shot through me as he kissed along the lips of my labia. Spreading them apart gently with his fingers, his tongue found my clitoris. He gently lapped me there, as if savoring an ice-cream cone, and huge jolts of pleasure ripped through me.

  I clutched the desk behind me and moaned with rapture as he ate my pussy with deliberate slowness. His mouth worked with increasing intensity, licking and lapping my clitoris one moment, then flicking it with his tongue the next, until I was nearly delirious with pleasure.

  "I'm coming!" I gasped, clutching the desk and arching my back as moans tore from my throat. I felt his fingers enter the wet slot of my quivering pussy, fucking me there as he kept working my clitoris with his mouth, drawing out my orgasm with expertise. One finger, two fingers, three fingers now of his left hand were fucking my slippery cunt while my orgasm just kept coming.

  "Turn around," he commanded as finally my climax began to ebb. I did as I'd been commanded, and he bent me forward at the waist over the top of his desk. My breasts pressed flat against the unyielding wood surface, and my ass stuck high in the air.

  Tate unzipped his pants, revealing his engorged dick in all its beauty. He and came up behind me, teasing me with it sensuously as he rubbed the head of his erection just outside the opening of my eager slot without entering me. I wanted him so badly, my body was shaking.

  He reached into the top drawer of his desk and plucked out a condom, sliding it on with practiced grace.

  "This is why you insist on the dress code," I teased him playfully. "Because your nanny fetish helps you stay hard.”

  Suddenly, Tate grabbed me by the ponytail and tugged it so painfully that I cried out.

  "Wrong. This is why I like your hair pulled back," he growled. Then his slid his rock-hard cock deep inside my quivering slot, sinkin
g satisfactorily up to the hilt with one solid thrust. I nearly came right then, but somehow I managed to hold back. He slid back out nearly to the tip, and then sunk back into the hilt again, saying to me, "And this why I like you to wear skirts with no panties, so I can do this to you anytime I want."

  He began to pump with slow, deep, powerful thrusts of his massive dick, pulling my hair as he pounded me into the desk. Another orgasm was building inside me, and I braced myself against the wood, rocking back to meet him, thrust for thrust, driving him so deeply inside me, I thought I might split in two.

  "I'm coming," I cried out, breathlessly.

  My second climax was even more powerful than my first with wave upon wave of blinding pleasure crashed over me like a tsunami. My limbs trembled as silent screams tore from my throat, wordlessly into the air as soundless gasps.

  "Come for me, you naughty girl," Tate encouraged, and he smacked my bare ass with his open palm. It surprised me, but I liked it and begged for him to do it again.

  Repeatedly, he spanked me with his palm, drawing out my orgasm to impossible lengths and even greater heights, until finally, I collapsed against the top of the desk, utterly spent and thoroughly satisfied.

  I gasped for breath as my pulse slowed, and eventually, I recovered enough to get up from the desk. He had a box of tissues there that I used to clean myself up with. Then I smoothed my hair and straightened my clothes as if nothing torrid had happened in here.

  "I hope that answers all of your of concerns," Tate said with a naughty wink.

  "Almost. There is still one thing I want to know." I smiled at him. "When can we do this again?"

  Chapter Seventeen: Rachelle

  I was still feeling giddy the next morning after our second sexual affair. I couldn't stop singing, and even when I tried to be stern with Halle, I couldn't wipe the smile off my face.

  "You're happy," she observed. She was very empathetic to other's emotions.