by Naomi Niles
That's the way I had to keep things with Rachelle. I couldn't risk letting myself fall in love with her. If I did and then something happened to her, the pain of loss would be too great. The best way to protect myself from heartbreak was simply not to fall in love.
This was a business relationship. I'd hired her to work as my nanny and to fulfill my sexual needs. That was all there was to it. When she came to me in the night, we weren't making love; we were fucking. When I slid my hard dick into her wet pussy, and she quivered all around me, that was just pure biology. When I put my mouth on hers, and she sighed, that wasn't emotion, that was natural physiology. That rush of happiness I felt every time I brought her to orgasm was just the endorphins brought on by my body's chemistry.
We weren't falling in love. We hadn't formed a connection that bonded us together mentally and emotionally, as well as physically. She wasn't the soul mate I'd been searching for.
So what that she was interesting to talk to, as well as stimulating in bed. So what that I loved the sound of her laugh and wanted to hear it as much as possible. So what that I loved being with her even when we weren't having sex. It didn't matter how much I enjoyed having meals with her at the dining table, chatting in the nursery, walking in the garden, or even just passing in the hall. I needed to stop treating her like a girlfriend, instead of an employee.
It made me soft. It made me create exceptions to the rules I'd held so rigidly for years.
For a long time, my system of using nannies to service me sexually had been infallible. The non-disclosure segment of the contract kept them silent, and the exorbitant salary kept them loyal. I liked to think I was pretty good at keeping them happy, and the luxurious setting of the mansion kept them comfortable.
In exchange, I got to have physically-satisfying sex whenever I desired. It was the perfect arrangement. So what if I was lonely. So what if I didn't have anyone to talk to or share my life with. I had Halle. She was my family. I didn't need anyone else. I didn't need a partner. I could raise her alone.
In the past year or so, I had begun to have second thoughts about bachelorhood. I started to think that maybe I was shortchanging myself by living without love. That's why I allowed myself to start having feelings for Rose. It was a disaster. But as much as I cared for her, it wasn't quite right.
Now, there was Rachelle. She was everything I wanted in a woman. So much so, that I had started to break my rules for her. With the other nannies, I only spoke to them in regards to Halle or to call for them to come to me at night. We only fucked in non-intimate areas of the house, like my office, closets, or bathrooms. Never anyplace personal, like my room or hers.
When we fucked, it was as impersonal as possible – a business transaction only. I turned them on, plunged in, we both came, and then it was over. I never went for a second round. We never kissed on the mouth. I was quick and emotionless.
I don't know what possessed me to break the rules for Rachelle. It started on that first day when she blatantly violated the dress code. I let her get away with it for far too long.
Then, that night when she came into my office, wearing nothing but that pink silk negligee, I'd pulled her into my arms and kissed her on the lips. I shouldn't have done it, but her soft lips were begging me to, and I just couldn't resist. We'd fucked on my desk and then again in my chair. I could still remember how she looked when I made her crawl across the floor to me on her hands and knees. I’d thought it would help me to distance myself from her by making her impersonal, but all it did was make her seem more vulnerable and endearing. I had wanted to scoop her up and protect her. We finished the night by fucking on the floor, and then I carried her back to her bedroom cradled in my arms, with her cheek resting on my shoulder.
I knew I was in trouble then. From that moment, all I could think about was her. Bringing her into my bedroom suite and revealing my secret playroom was an act of pure insanity. I'd never brought any of any the previous nannies there before. I'd go in, withdraw the toys I wanted to use, and play with them in my office or some other part of the house. With Rachelle, however, I'd been fantasizing about using the swing.
From the day I'd had it secretly installed, it had sat there unused. I felt like it was a metaphor for my love life, waiting for the perfect partner to indulge in kinky intimacy – and Rachelle was that woman.
She was so willing and open to new games. The way her eyes lit up when I showed it to her told me everything I needed to know. She could handle the games I wanted to play. She could handle the swing, and the hood, and my hands on her throat squeezing the breath out of her while she came, enhancing her orgasm and mine. Few women would be willing to try such intense erotic games, and fewer still enjoyed them as much as I did, but I could tell Rachelle would, and I had been right.
At that moment when we orgasmed together while she was flipped upside in swing and I was fucking her from behind while choking her, I knew I'd found my perfect partner.
Perhaps that was why I felt so personally protective of her. Emma had been a difficult employee for years, but I'd never once threatened to fire her until I found out she was harassing Rachelle. And when I saw how worried Rachelle was about her mother's cancer treatments, I had no choice but to send her home that Saturday to spend the day with her.
When I came home late Saturday night and saw that she'd been attacked, I immediately felt responsible. It wouldn't have happened if I hadn't stolen that photographer's camera or if I'd been home to protect her instead of out yachting. It also wouldn't have happened if I hadn't hired her in the first place; she was only there because of me.
That was why I’d brought her into my bedroom. I had to make sure she was going to be alright if I was ever going to get rid of my damn guilt. But it had an unexpected consequence.
Having Rachelle asleep in my bed felt so right. Her warm body next to mine. The rhythmic sound of her breathing. Even though we didn't have sex, it was the most intimate connection I'd ever had with someone, and I wanted more. I wanted to deepen the experience.
So, I broke my most finite rule and invited her to sleep in my bedroom again the next night. I didn't know it would turn into a night of deeply emotional lovemaking. She was just so beautifully vulnerable. Her skin was so soft, her lips so delicious, and her curves so perfect; I couldn't help myself. In the morning, I felt refreshed, alive… in love. It was finally happening. I'd met a woman with whom I truly connected, one I could see myself marrying someday.
Then it all turned to shit. She became cold and distant in the blink of an eye. Was I wrong about the connection I thought we had? I wondered.
This was why it was best to keep sexual relationships purely on a business level. No one got their feelings hurt. No one felt used or disappointed or broken hearted.
I had no on to blame but myself. I was the one who broke the rules and let her into my heart.
Well, it stopped here. When Rachelle came back from visiting her mother, it was going to be back to business. She was going to have to abide by the rules of the contract strictly as they were written, and so was I. If she couldn't handle that, she was out of there. No more special treatment, no more emotional feelings. She was my employee and nothing more. If she tried to cross me, I'd come down on her like an anvil. The only way to protect my heart was to become heartless.
Chapter Thirty-Three: Rachelle
"Rachelle, what are you doing here, baby?" My mother's eyes lit up as I entered the door of her shabby apartment with my suitcase in my hand.
Scott had carried it up for me, but I waited for him to leave before going in. I needed a moment alone to calm myself. If Mama saw how upset I was over Tate Holland, she would have a stroke. So I took my compact from my purse and carefully hid all signs that I'd been crying with fresh powder and renewed my lipstick until I looked happy and bright.
"I came to spend some with you. Mr. Holland gave me some time off," I told her with a smile. Of course, I would tell her the truth about what happened, but I wanted to wait un
til her treatments were completed, when she was stronger. Right now, she was just too fragile.
So, I'd let her think I was on vacation for a little while. No need to tell her I'd quit my job until I found another one. Of course, I still hadn't told Tate that I'd quit, either.
I didn't have the courage to face him. I figured I'd write him a letter in a few days, making it clear that I was never coming back. I wished there was a way I could tell Halle how sorry I was and how much I would miss her, but she couldn't read yet. It was something I was just starting to teach her. Now, that privilege would go to someone else. I had to swallow the lump of emotion the thought brought to my throat.
"I can't believe he gave you a vacation so soon," Mama marveled as she welcomed me with a hug.
"Well, he's taking his daughter on a trip, so I wasn't really needed," I lied.
"He's allowed to travel with the murder investigation still going on?" Her quick wit caught me, and I turned to hand my suitcase to Julie so she wouldn't see the expression in my eyes.
"I think the investigation is almost over."
"They don't say a word about it in the papers," Mama complained as she picked up her folded copy of the daily newspaper off the coffee table and slammed it back down for emphasis. "It drives me crazy knowing that you're in that house every day and they still haven't solved that murder."
"You don't need to worry, Mama. As you can see, I'm perfectly safe."
"For now. But what happens when you go back?"
I realized I couldn't keep my secret. I had to tell her I had quit my job, but just as I opened my mouth to speak, she said something that silenced me. "And that poor, sweet little girl you've been watching over. I shudder to think about the horrible things that could have happened to her."
"You don't think the same person who killed Rose Landon would kill Halle Holland, do you?" My stomach suddenly clenched in a painful knot.
"Why not? After all, she was the child's nanny. Who's to say she didn't die protecting the girl from some nasty child predator. You can't tell what kind of strange sexual appetites someone might have hidden beneath a perfectly normal exterior. Heck, the killer might be someone who goes in and out of that house every day that the child knows."
Mama's words made me think of Tate and how I never would have known about his kinky desires if I hadn't been drawn into them. He was so charming and handsome, I never would have suspected he kept a room full of sex toys hidden behind a secret wall – and neither did the police.
Still, I saw the way he was with Halle. He adored her. He would never hurt or molest her. Whatever the reason was that he killed Rose, it wasn't because she got in the way of him harming Halle. That little girl was the center of his universe. It seemed far more likely that he would kill for her than try to hurt her.
If Mama's theory was right, someone else was the killer and not Tate. But, I knew it was him. I'd seen the drops of blood, and I'd seen the shoes in his closet. There was no doubt in my mind that it was him.
"I really don't think the person who killed Rose Landon was trying to harm Halle," I insisted.
"Well, maybe not," Mama mused. "But that leads me back to wondering why someone would kill an innocent young woman working as a nanny. It was obviously someone who had access to the house. Who else lives there?"
"Just me, and of course Halle and Mr. Holland," I said. "There's the chef, Stuart, he has a key so he can come early to cook breakfast; and of course the maid, Emma, has one, too. The chauffeur, Scott, comes and goes all the time, and I've been told Halle's birth mother stays in one of the guest rooms on occasion."
"Do you think any of them had cause to hate the nanny?"
I thought about the visceral hatred Emma had for me and how Stuart felt my sleeping with Tate was dangerous. I wondered if Halle's birth mother felt jealous of me or wanted to stop me from sleeping with the man who was her child's father. Scott kept his feelings to himself, but he had to have an opinion.
I could only imagine they all felt the same way towards Rose that they felt about me. I could imagine the loneliness and the isolation she must have felt among the staff.
But was their animosity enough to warrant murder? Somehow I just didn't think so. The only one who ever made me fear for my life was Tate. His charming kindness was just a front for a murderous dark side he only revealed in times of passion. He had killed Rose, and I was just lucky I had escaped before he killed me.
"I don't think any of the staff killed Rose," I stated firmly.
"Well, thank the Lord for that. I've read all the details of that murder in the paper. They printed the results of the coroner's report. Stripped naked with evidence of recent sexual activity, which is probably rape, if you ask me. She had signs of asphyxiation and a contusion on her head from blunt force trauma. Just imagine, being choked to death while being raped and then your attacker hits you on the head and kills you. Horribly disgusting. How could such a thing happen?"
I thought of Tate and how he smoothly conned me into entering his secret sex room. He had seduced me into allowing him to put me in that sex swing. Then he bound my hands behind my back so I couldn't defend myself, put that hood over my face, and began to choke me while he fucked me. At the time, I'd actually been foolish enough to enjoy it. I'd thought it was the best damn orgasm I'd ever had. Now, with clear eyes, I saw just how close to death I had come and shuddered revulsion.
"I guess she was caught by surprise by a monster." I swallowed.
"She must have been. Well, thank the Lord that sweet little girl you watch over wasn't there when it happened. The papers say she was out with her father at the time of the murder. Just imagine how awful that would have been if she'd walked in and been caught by the killer."
"You don't think she's in any danger do you?" My stomach turned at the thought.
"Anyone willing to do the awful things that were done to that nanny wouldn't have any reservations about hurting a child, especially one that got in the way or could identify him," Mama said wisely.
"I hadn't thought of that." I swallowed.
Just then, Julie stepped into the room and said, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but it's time for your medication, Patricia."
Mama begrudgingly went into the bedroom with Julie so she could administer her medication. Once I was alone in the living room, I could relax from the false front of happiness I was putting on for Mama and bury my face in my hands.
Shit, she is right. I had told myself that Halle was safe because Tate loved her so much, but that was foolish naivety. Putting up a kind and charming front was what he excelled at. I'd seen evidence of that in the way he seduced me and then turned on me. Who's to say he wouldn't turn on his own child and kill her like he murdered Rose? Especially if she learned the truth about him.
I couldn't let that happen. From the moment I was hired to be her nanny, Halle Holland became my responsibility. I was entrusted with her safety. Even more importantly, I truly cared for the sweet, young girl. She was like the daughter I dreamed of having, and I'd do anything for her – even risking my own life by going back into the mansion.
I had to find a way to protect her from her own monstrous father, but how? I couldn't just take her away. I suppose I could go to the police and tell them everything I knew, but would it be enough?
I sat back on the couch and thought about what I could tell Detective Miller. There was the contract requiring me to have sex with Tate, but that didn't mean he was a murderer, and revealing it was more likely to get me in trouble for prostitution.
There was the secret room hidden behind the bookcase. Telling Detective Miller about the room would give him the ability to get a warrant to search it, and then he would see the blood spots on the carpet and match it to the fibers on Rose's body.
Of course, it was possible Tate had removed that evidence. He'd mentioned casually the other day that he wanted to change the flooring in there. The same was true of the shoes in his closet. Just because I saw them in the corner this morning didn't me
an he hadn't moved them.
I needed to make sure the evidence was still there before I said anything. If Detective Miller showed up to the house with a warrant to search the closet and the sex room, but no evidence was found, he'd have no cause to arrest Tate – but Tate would undoubtedly know that I was the one who had betrayed him.
After all, no one else had seen the shoes of my attacker or been inside his sex room. If Detective Miller knew about them, Tate would easily deduce that he learned about them from me. Then Tate would surely want revenge against me, and my life would be truly be in danger. Worst of all, there would be no one to protect Halle or to provide for my mother. They both counted on me, and I had to be alive to care for them.
The only way to proceed was to go back into the mansion and collect as much evidence against Tate on my own before calling the police. I could make sure the shoes were still there, as well as the blood stains on the floor of the sex room. I could probably even find more evidence.
If Rose died of blunt force trauma, what object had he used to beat her? If he asphyxiated her, had he used the hood or some of the scarves in sex room? Did Tate have security cameras in that secret room? Did he keep a journal or take photos that he hid in there?
I would go back to the house to collect as much evidence as I could. When I was certain there was enough to guarantee Tate's arrest, I would call Detective Miller. I could petition the court to let me have guardianship of Halle, and everything would be okay. I just had to be brave enough to go back, and for her, I could.
"Well, that's done." Mama came out of her bedroom with Julie. She smiled at me and said, "What do you say we make up the couch so you have a place to sleep tonight? Then we can stay up late watching movies on television and eating ice cream."
Julie crossed her arms over her chest, "Now, Patricia, you know dairy products don't agree with your stomach because of your treatments."
Mama rolled her eyes and sighed. "Fine, we'll enjoy a bowl of cauliflower florets sprinkled with curcumin. Nothing says fun like flavonoids."
