by Shade, S. M.
Sitting back, her horrified scowl burns into me. “Until you decide what to do? You have a son! What decision do you need to make, Ax? You should be on your way to get him!”
“It’s not that fucking easy!” I shout, getting to my feet. My hands run through my hair for the hundredth time today. “What am I supposed to do with a baby, Dani? You know I don’t want kids!”
Dani leaps up and rushes toward me. “Well, you fucking have a kid so what you want doesn’t mean anything!”
And that’s the punishment for having kids, isn’t it? What you want, the life you want, doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve seen how it is, with Dani’s friends and with some of my friends. All your time and energy go to the kids, all your thoughts and worries are about them and what kind of life they’ll have. They lose who they were, trade in being a person with wants and needs and dreams for being Mom or Dad. It’s a nightmare I swore to avoid.
Yet here I am.
“I know,” I mumble, pacing the yard.
“Under the circumstances, can you break the contract with your label?”
Shock and disbelief pierce me, and my head jerks back. “What? I’m not breaking any contract! Do you know how long it took me to get here? How much money is at stake? My band is counting on me!”
Disgust crinkles her face. “Your son is counting on you! Do you plan to leave him in state care? Give him up?”
“No!”
The thought has crossed my mind more than once. He’d probably be better off with strangers than a father like me, but I know what it’s like to be left behind. I can’t do that to another human being.
“Then what? What’s your plan? Store him in the luggage compartment of your tour bus? Shove him off on a nanny like some rich asshole?”
Her ranting is born of pure anger, but she has no idea she has just answered her own question and helped me make a decision.
A nanny. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.
Sometimes I forget I have enough money to make solving problems easier. I’ll hire a live-in nanny that’s willing to travel with us when we go on tour. Hell, two nannies, if I need to. Then I’ll know he’s taken care of, and I’ll still be able to live my life.
Win win.
Chapter Two
Naomi
All the paperwork has been signed, including a very threateningly worded non-disclosure agreement. Skeletons must be piled in my client’s closet to necessitate such a document, but I’ve been told he’s an up and coming musician, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
I don’t care who he is. The fact that I get to use my degrees without trying to rein in a classroom of thirty kids is a welcome change. The pay is way beyond my expectations, especially since my room and board are covered as well.
The agency stressed I’d have to be willing to travel, sometimes for months at a time, and live-in when the musician isn’t on the road, but that’s just another bonus. I’ve never been anywhere, and I can’t wait to see new things and meet new people.
Apparently, he wants the final word, which is reasonable considering he’ll be trusting me with the care of his only child. I’m impressed that a single father would want to take the baby with him on tour instead of parking him with a nanny at his home.
The final interview is scheduled at his house and I’m waiting on the man who is to escort me there, his manager. It seems a little odd I can’t just go myself, but I’ve been told the man is very well off, and rich people can be weird sometimes. Not even my friend at the agency—who helped me get this job—knows who he is since everything was arranged by his agent or manager or whatever.
The sight of a sleek black town car pulling up in front of my apartment sends me rushing outside.
“Ms. Wells?” A man who looks a little like a skinny Danny Devito steps forward, offering his hand.
“Yes, you can call me Naomi.” We shake hands, and he strides around the car, opening the passenger door for me.
“I’m Milo. It’s nice to meet you. Mr. Todd is waiting for your arrival. I’ll fill you in on a few things along the way.”
A dust speck in this car would feel unbelievably self-conscious. I’ve never been so mindful of how dirty the bottom of my shoes must be against the floor mat. The soft leather seats alone probably cost more than every car I’ve ever driven combined, but judging by the incredibly smooth ride and the way it closes out the rattle of the outside world, I can’t say the vehicle wouldn’t be worth it. What would it be like to know such luxury in your everyday life?
Milo regards me once he’s merged onto the highway. “You’ve already signed all the requisite forms, but I want to remind you that everything from this point forward is covered by the non-disclosure agreement, whether you are offered and accept the job or not.”
“I understand.” My intrigue grows at the seriousness of the situation. What does this guy have to hide? He’d better not be a mobster or something. Do those even still exist? Shit, Naomi, he’s talking, pay attention.
“A certain level of privacy is needed when you’re in the public eye,” he continues, glancing at me. “The rumor mill grinds on no matter what, but we try to keep things contained.”
“The agency explained the position and my duties, but not the name of the family I’d be working for.” I’m not overly concerned. It’s not like I would know them anyway.
“Axton’s fatherhood is not known to the public yet, and we would like to handle that discreetly, so we advised your agency not to advertise it.”
The words, “I understand,” are ready to fall from my lips when the name sinks in. “Axton? Axton Todd? From Tragic?”
“Yes, he has only very recently gained custody. Since he will be on the road and busy a great deal of the time, he requires someone to provide round the clock care for the baby. We will, of course, provide a part time caregiver for your days off while he’s home, but I must warn you, on the road, that may not always be possible.”
He pauses when I don’t answer right away. But I’m still trying to process. “I’m sorry,” I finally sputter. “I didn’t know I would be working for a celebrity. They said an up and coming musician.” I take a deep breath. “I’m just a little…caught off guard.”
“Perfectly understandable. Don’t worry, it won’t take you long to see them as the normal—well, normal may be pushing it, artists are spectacularly abnormal—everyday people they are.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not the starstruck type.”
Milo chuckles and gives me a sideways glance. “Everyone is struck by Axton, he just has that star quality, but as long as things stay professional, there won’t be a problem.”
His warning is clear, but laughable. As if Axton Todd would give me more than a passing glance. I mean, I’m pretty enough, I guess, but not super-model-who-could-date-a-rock-star beautiful.
Up and coming. Bullshit. Tragic’s song, Away from You, was played so much most people seem to love to hate it now, though it’s a beautiful song. There’s no way I’d mention this to Milo, but I have the album and have nearly worn it out. The starstruck thing is true. I don’t tend to fangirl over people, but the man’s voice is something else entirely. Smooth and deep. Coupled with the modern blues, folk rock mix of music Tragic produces, it’s a unique sound that grabbed me from the first song.
Judging by how often I still hear the singles from that album play, and the fact that the tour has already sold out—I tried to get tickets—up and coming is way off. They’ve made it.
“Not a problem,” I finally reply, as I’m driven into an upper class neighborhood. Milo turns down a street that dead ends at a small cul-de-sac and pulls into the driveway of the house on the end.
“Are they still building here?”
“No, Mr. Todd owns the adjacent lots as well. He likes the privacy.”
He has plenty of it by the looks of things as I’m led inside. Music plays faintly from some unknown corner of the house, growing louder as I follow Milo down a hallway that could really use some decoration
. The whole place feels a bit bare, with no pictures or paintings on the walls.
Milo taps on a door as he opens it, which draws a frown from the man sitting on a sofa with a guitar across his lap.
Before this moment, I would’ve said a beautiful scowl doesn’t exist. That it’s a ridiculous oxymoron, but there’s no other way to describe the expression on his face. Pink lips pressed together, his eyebrows drawn and as dark as the hair that lays over his forehead.
“Come in,” he snaps.
Milo nods at me, gestures to the chair across from the broody man, and retreats. “Mr. Todd, I’m Naomi Wells. It’s nice to meet you.” My voice is even, and I hope it doesn’t betray the sudden nervousness gripping me.
Silence hangs heavy as I take a seat. Still silent, he sets the guitar aside, grabs a hairband and pulls his hair back into a small bun. It reveals the shaved sides and back, and I gaze at the dark stubble that continues down to his chin and cheeks. Not quite a beard, but a beard would suit him. Anything would suit him.
Sitting back, he props his ankle on his knee and regards me for a few moments. The scrutiny is excruciating. What is he looking for?
“How old are you?”
I wince at the sharp tone of his voice and force some steel into my spine, sitting up straight. “I just turned twenty-four.”
“And you’ve been a nanny before?”
“No.” His frown deepens, and I continue before he can dismiss me, because that looks like his intention. “I was a teacher for the past year. I have a degree in early childhood education and elementary education. I’m also certified in infant and child CPR and first aid.”
When he continues to stare at me like some kind of interesting bug, I add, “I love children. It has always been my goal to work with kids.”
Nodding, he continues to unnerve me with that green-eyed stare. The star quality Milo talked about isn’t apparent to me but there’s definitely an intensity to him that a smarter woman might find intimidating instead of fascinating.
“No kids of your own?”
“No.”
“The agency said you’re not married. Do I need to worry about a boyfriend showing up?”
“No, I’m single.” Annoyance with his attitude is melting into anger, and I try not to show it. “And if I weren’t, I’m quite capable of remaining professional and keeping my personal life apart from my work.”
His tongue creeps out to lick his upper lip. “The agency has assured me you’re very qualified and you’ve been filled in on everything required of you. I wanted to meet you face to face before making a final decision.”
Relaxing a bit, I force a smile to my face. “Of course, I understand. You want to make sure I’m the right person to nurture your child.”
My head jerks back as he suddenly lunges forward, uncrossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees, pinning me with a glare. “I want to make sure you understand your job is to take care of him and stay out of my face and business.”
My heart pounds in my ears though whether it’s from anger or fear, I’m not sure. A mixture of both, I guess. I’m not going to let him intimidate me. “I’ve signed your non- disclosure agreement. I understand what is and isn’t my business, Mr. Todd. I assure you I will take great care of your son.”
After a moment, he nods. “Fine. You can move in tomorrow. I have to pick him up at three the day after. You’ll go with me.” He gets to his feet. “I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”
Relief softens my shoulders, and I unclench my jaw. A small part of me wonders if I really want this job after all, since he’s clearly going to be an asshole of epic proportions, but I can’t pass up this opportunity.
He leads me out into the hall and opens the door to a large bedroom with an attached bathroom. A queen size bed sits against the middle of one wall, a nightstand and lamp on either side of it. There’s a large dresser, and a small sitting area with a recliner. Everything is as depersonalized as the rest of the place, but I’m not concerned. I’ll have my own bathroom and private area to relax.
“Sufficient?” he demands.
“Yes.”
“The nursery is across the hall.” I follow him to the door directly opposite of mine and I’m shocked when we walk inside. While all the other rooms are plain and boring, he has gone all out in here.
A crib that can convert to a toddler bed is tucked in one corner. There’s a changing table, dresser, rocking chair, and a small bookshelf bearing some children’s books. Stars and comets have been stenciled onto the dark blue walls, and the gray carpet under my feet is soft.
White letters spell out Caden above the crib. It makes me realize he hasn’t once mentioned his son’s name. He has only referred to him as my son or him.
Axton stands at the doorway, his arms crossed, scowl still firmly in place. “My bandmate’s wife put this together in a day, so you may find there are things he needs she didn’t think of. I’ll have a credit card for you tomorrow that can be used for whatever he needs. Clothes, diapers…” he trails off.
“Toys,” I add, glancing around the room.
“You can move in tomorrow,” he says again, then turns and walks away. I hurry to catch up and follow him back to the living room where Milo waits.
Milo slaps his hands together with a big smile. “Right? Everything go well, then? Are we all set?”
Axton drags his gaze over me, and it feels like he can see every mistake I’ve ever made. “We’ll see how it goes.”
Relief washes over me once I’m out of his sight and back in Milo’s car. He doesn’t have to worry about me being starstruck or hung up on Axton, that’s for sure. I don’t even like being around him.
As if he can read my thoughts, Milo gives me a reassuring grin. “He’s not always like that. It’s been a tough week. It’s not every day you find out you’re a father.”
What? Stunned, I turn to him. “He just found out?” I know he only recently gained custody, but with his attitude and the distant way he spoke of him, I assumed he probably knew and didn’t give a shit. He didn’t even know about him?
“The mother kept it a secret, but the truth was revealed when she passed away. It’s been a mad rush to make preparations, as you can imagine.”
It takes a moment for it to all sink in. “He didn’t know he had a baby?”
Milo shakes his head. “A week ago, he didn’t know his son existed.”
Wow. Maybe I was judging him a little harshly. I can’t imagine finding out you have a child, and that you’ve missed out on ten months of his life. He must be devastated. Poor Caden has lost his mother and been uprooted from the only home he’s ever known. I’m going to do everything I can to help him heal and adjust.
Determination replaces the trepidation about this job. I’m needed here. I can make a difference in Caden’s life, help him as he adjusts to his new family.
Finally, I feel the sense of purpose I’ve been looking for. I’m in the right place.
* * *
There’s not much to take with me from my tiny apartment, since I rented it furnished, but my friend, Paige, insists on helping me move. We put my housewares and other random items I won’t need into a small storage unit that I’ve paid up for the next year. My new quarters aren’t exactly tiny, but I don’t want things to be cluttered.
“I can’t believe you won’t tell me who you’re working for,” Paige says for the umpteenth time. The metal door to the storage locker rattles in its tracks as I force it into place and put on the lock. “I’m the one who got you the job.”
It’s true. Paige’s place at the nanny agency is exactly why I have this opportunity, but she was only told to find a suitable candidate for a traveling musician. The only names she was privy to were Milo’s and Caden’s. Since Caden’s last name doesn’t match Axton’s, it kept his identity safe. She’s been trying like crazy to guess who it might be.
“I signed an NDA. He could sue the shit out of me.”
She has no idea how muc
h I want to tell her. Going to live with this guy without telling my best friend where I am is terrifying. He may be pretty and rich, but there’s an air of danger around him that’s unsettling. The distant eyes and coldness in his demeanor wasn’t an act. More than ever, I’m glad I made this decision, for the baby who may need me more than I thought.
“Yeah, I know. But you’re going to be living with him, surely you can have an occasional visitor,” she says, as we climb in my car.
“I don’t know how any of that works yet. There are still some things we need to address.” My mind was working a hundred miles per hour during the interview. I didn’t ask many questions.
The afternoon traffic has picked up, and we inch along. “Can you tell me what he’s like? Is he hot?”
Of course, that’s her first question. “He’s attractive enough, I guess.” Understatement of the year.
One glance at my expression and she bursts out laughing. “Oh, he’s a smoke show. You lucky bitch.”
“I spoke to him for a total of fifteen minutes, but as far as I can tell, he’s an asshole. His only concern was that I stay out of his way.”
Paige shrugs, and I park in front of her apartment. “Musicians are moody. But damn, girl. If he’s that hot and successful, don’t discount climbing him over one bad meeting.”
“I will not be climbing him. I’m there for the baby, you know that.”
“I’m trying to live vicariously through you, and you aren’t being very cooperative.” Brushing her blond hair over her shoulder, she leans over to hug me. “Good luck. I hope everything goes well. Text me tonight.”
“I will. Thanks for everything.”
It hits me as I watch her let herself in her apartment how drastically everything has changed and how fast. I’m not headed home to curl up in my tiny apartment. That’s not home anymore. Home is a huge house in a neighborhood I could never afford, with a man I suspect would rather not have me there.
I’m not exactly poverty stricken, but I feel poor pulling into the driveway of his expensive house with most of my possessions in a suitcase and a couple of boxes. A young, dark haired woman steps out the door and approaches me with a smile.
