by Sofia Finn
Collins screeched as I retrieved her from the backseat, and I was extremely relieved she was still dry.
“We’re here,” I announced needlessly. “Potty’s inside.”
“I don’t need to potty,” Collins announced haughtily. “I want to go to the cafeteria.”
“Later, baby,” I said as I tried my best not to lose my shit when my daughter tugged free from my grip and sprinted toward the entrance of the building. “Collins! No running!”
As far as Mondays go, this one was pretty shitty.
I finally caught up to my daughter in the lobby, corralling her before she could jet off to the cafeteria—a route she knew by heart.
“We had breakfast before we left, remember?” I informed her, tucking her under my arm like a briefcase. “Come on. Time to get to work.”
She giggled at the swinging pace I struck—far from the prying eyes of employees—as I stopped short outside my office. Rita, my secretary, was in the midst of a heated discussion with another woman just outside the door.
When the woman noticed Collins and me approaching, she stopped what she was doing and squealed. Loudly.
“Oh my goodness, you’re so cute!” she exclaimed, springing forward to get in Collins’ face. “Aren’t you just the cutest little girl in the whole wide world?”
“What the hell is this?” I hissed at Rita as Collins recoiled around my leg.
“She said she had an appointment,” my secretary muttered. “Not on my books.”
“Ma’am.” I took a meaningful step backward, shepherding Collins away. “You need to leave.”
“I’m right on time,” she insisted, flipping her platinum blonde hair off her shoulder. “I’m Bebe Wild, applying for your open nanny position.” She leaned forward, exposing ample cleavage spilling from her blouse as she rippled her fingers at Collins. “Hi, cutie. Want to play with me?”
“That’s enough,” I barked, running out of patience. “Get out of here. I don’t know who sent you, but this is not the time or place for this kind of interview.”
I haven’t told anyone but my family about Carol as it had only just happened this weekend. I certainly hadn’t had time to create a job posting.
“Oh, I’m great with kids.” The woman preened at me, and I had to almost swallow my tongue to keep from saying anything rude in front of my daughter.
“That won’t be necessary,” I informed her, tugging on Collins’ arm—perhaps a little too hard—making her yelp and begin to cry. “Goodbye.”
Collins was like a little sponge at this age. One wrong word was literally the wrongest word you could utter in front of her. She’d overheard me stubbing my toe a month or so ago and had gleefully chirped “motherfucker” to anyone who would listen.
It was only Carol who had gotten Collins to move on from her foul-mouthed obsession.
That sense of desperation, and the limited time I had to supervise my kid between meetings, led me to do something I swore I wouldn’t do.
I called Carol.
“Mr. Hilborne, is everything all right?” That’s how she answered the phone. Not a simple “hello.” Not a curiosity as to why I might be calling her. And not even the slightest hint of irritation at being bothered by her former employer on the first day of her retirement.
No. Carol assumed I had fucked things up. And I had.
“Name your price,” I said, bouncing Collins on my hip, trying to ease her irritation at me. I knew I hadn’t really hurt her. I just kept her from something she wanted to do—explore the wild world of the office with a stranger.
“Mr. Hilborne?”
“I will pay you whatever you want if you come back out of retirement,” I said. “Carol, please.”
“I am so sorry, but I can’t,” Carol said, her voice catching. “My doctor told me how important it is to rest as much as I can. I want to work, I really do. But my body just won’t let me.”
God, I felt like an asshole. But as Collins started to wail and push against me, completely fed up with the entire situation, I felt like I had to do whatever I possibly could.
I mean, I was a businessman. Plain and simple.
“I will pay you a million dollars a year, Carol.” I sat Collins down and watched her tear across the carpet toward my bookshelf, furious at me and the world. “No, two million. That’s how serious I am.”
“Mr. Hilborne…” She hesitated.
I pressed my luck. “Carol, please. Three million dollars. Yours. Each year. For God’s sake, I can’t do this without you.”
“I’m—oh my. I’m going to have to talk to my doctor about this, Mr. Hilborne. He’s not going to agree, but I’ll, gosh, I’ll try to figure something out for you and Collins—wait!”
There was the sound of a brief battle—mostly squawks and curses and cries—before it grew quiet again.
“Hello?” I asked. “Carol?”
“No.” The voice on the other end of the line had changed, grown colder. “This is her daughter, Heather. Is this Graham Hilborne?”
“Yes.” Carol had mentioned a daughter before, but I didn’t know anything about the woman on the other end of this call. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Heather. Even if it’s just over the phone.”
“Let me stop you right there,” she said, her voice dispassionate. Clinical even. “My mother has worked hard throughout her entire life, and she deserves to rest. Don’t contact her again.”
The call ended right as Collins started to rip books off the shelf and toss them across the room. My pulse pounded at the blatant rejection. I wasn’t used to hearing “no” from anyone. And I urgently needed to figure out who was the woman who crashed my office because it was a security threat—one directed toward my daughter.
I didn’t give a shit if she broke every item in my office because material things were replaceable. No matter what, I was going to keep her safe. I was her father, and I was going to protect her.
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