Secret Daddy: A Billionaire and the Nanny Romance Read online

  I nod again. “OK. I think that will be fine.” I don’t mention that I won’t let our one-night stand interfere with my ability to manage a pleasant friendship with his ex-wife. That can be implied, since we’re never going to speak of that night again.

  “Then you can sign.”

  I place my pen to the dotted line, then glance up at Lucas. “Has she ever hurt anyone?”

  “Not intentionally,” he answers. “And not another adult, no.”

  My heart aches. She accidentally hurt one of the kids? My heart goes out to both of them, though I don’t ask who it was. “OK,” I whisper. “I’m ready to sign.” I scratch Maggie’s name down with a flourish.

  “Thank you for that,” Lucas says, rolling up the contract again. He stands and hesitates, peering down at me with sudden consideration. I could tell he was on autopilot until now. For the first time since he entered the room, he’s really seeing me. “Hey,” he adds, eyes tipping over me. He almost settles back down onto the couch beside me, but then thinks better of it. “How are you, by the way? You doing OK?”

  I nod and smile up at him reassuringly. “Great,” I say.

  Relief moves through Lucas’s frame and he rubs at his forehead, nodding. “Good. Good. Figured I had better check.” He swivels and marches from the room, but hesitates again at the foyer. “Let me know if you need anything, OK? I don’t want you to be afraid to talk to me about anything at all. Now that you’re officially here, you’re family. I’m going to get you a key today.”

  “Sounds great,” I call back brightly, knowing that it won’t last. Not with my picture on the news. Lucas has been busy with work this week, but he’ll eventually turn on the cable and see my face splashed there. It can’t last. I’m not that lucky.

  “I’ll be back tonight. I have some important meetings out of town.”

  “All right!”

  * * *

  I’m about to leave to go pick up Madison from kindergarten when there’s a loud, perfunctory knock at the door, and I freeze.

  Lucas wouldn’t knock like that. I haven’t even seen other people around here. We’re totally hedged in trees and highway and hillside, even though there are houses a few acres away. Who is it?

  I purse my lips and don’t dare budge. I don’t know who it is, and I can’t risk opening that door.

  There’s another series of knocks, still sounding oddly aggressive, and then the heavy thud of footsteps moving down the porch. A car engine rumbles and turns over, and gravel crunches as someone leaves the driveway.

  I dart to the window in time to catch a glimpse of the car.

  My heart hammers against my ribs, and I plaster my hands to the glass without thinking about the fingerprints I’ll leave behind.

  It is exactly who I knew it was.

  A rusted, baby blue, retro Mustang.

  Agent Finn Callahan, the fraud investigator for Priority Platinum.

  Here.

  Chapter 10

  Lucas

  Over the weekend, you would think that Maggie’s sudden spells of chipper, high-strung nervousness would wane.

  After all, there isn’t half as much for her to do. But still, something is off. We play Hide and Seek with Madison. Charlie is uninterested, and a little offended, even. The phone rings, and Maggie jolts out of her skin, but it’s only a pollster. Madison wants to watch The Little Mermaid and turns the television on. Maggie, who is dusting in the hallway, pokes her head around the corner to check the screen.

  “Do you want to watch The Little Mermaid with us, Maggie?” I ask, and she shakes her head.

  “I want to dust the whole place,” she says, “and I don’t like The Little Mermaid anyway.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Maggie doesn’t look like a classical Feministicus Americanus, but looks can be deceiving, I’ve heard. “Because she’s a princess and she gives up her voice and abandons her people and all that?”

  Maggie rolls her eyes and smiles, shaking out her distracting hair. “Because it’s completely improbable,” she answers. “The mermaid just happens to meet the prince immediately after getting her new legs? He’s a prince! He’s very busy.”

  “I think this one is mostly a figurehead,” I say with a grin.

  Maggie grins back at me and literally twirls away, looking thrilled with her duster in hand. She looks like a lovesick princess, too, I want to tell her, but I don’t want to encourage what’s flowering between us. I don’t want to get to know her, I remind myself. I don’t want to find the place where she hides all her weird thoughts.

  There’s an abrupt knock at the door and I stand, swaggering through the foyer. I sweep by Maggie and almost don’t notice that crazy glint in her eyes. But I register it and hesitate. Her lips are drawn and cold. Her eyes are fixed on some invisible point, filled with dread. She clutches the duster, but she stops moving.

  “Are you OK, Maggie?” I ask her, trying not to scoff at how dramatic her expression is.

  Maggie swallows and says, “You know, I’m actually not, because I meant to dust the TV first, because it’s such a hotbed of mite activity, and I’m going to do that now or it’ll haunt me forever, excuse me.” Seeming dazed, she shuffles back down the hall and disappears into the den where Madison is.

  I turn from her and back to the insistent, perfunctory knock.

  “What?” I snap, throwing the front door wide open.

  The man glaring back at me looks like me, but a few years younger: James Gray, all of thirty-four and still has no idea what he wants to do with his life. Work for me? Hell no. Not fun enough for him. Right now, he’s modeling. But he’s thinking about journalism, I think. Or did he want to give culinary school another try?

  “Hey, don’t be a dick,” James admonishes, still beaming. He steps across the threshold and hollers for Charlie, who comes galloping out of his room with no hesitation. It’s more energy than I have seen from him in months. “Hey, man.” He draws Charlie into a deep hug and pats his back. Madison comes skittering out of the den and leaps into his arms. James pitches her over his shoulders and she squeals with delight.

  Maggie pokes her head out of the den and smiles meekly. “Hello there,” she offers in her husky little voice.

  James whirls and literally drops Madison, and I have to lunge forward and catch her behind his back. I hoist her up into my arms.

  “Watch it, dipshit,” I snap at James.

  “Yeah, Uncle Dipshit,” Madison parrots. I smile down at her, my sour mood lightened.

  “I’m James,” he says, ignoring us both to step forward and give Maggie an awkwardly long handshake. “I’m your boss’s better-looking, younger brother. Part-time model. I like boating and wine and rubbing suntan lotion on girls who might be prone to sunburn. I’m an Aries, but don’t freak out. I’m one of the sensitive ones.”

  Maggie snorts, then shakes her head. “I’m Maggie. Maggie Marshall.”

  “That rings a bell. Shit, I heard something about a Marshall the other day. What was it?” He taps his bottom lip, then sweeps his index finger into the air. “Ah, any relation to Sofia Marshall? I heard about her on the radio.”

  “I don’t think so,” Maggie breathes.

  Who is Sofia Marshall?

  I’m about to ask who the hell he’s talking about when Madison belts out, “Uncle James draws the best zombies!” She squirms from my arms, bolting for the kitchen.

  “Come here, Uncle James,” she yells over her shoulder. “We got new green chalks!”

  “I don’t know if it’s going to be dry enough for chalks outside anytime soon, Mad Cow,” James yells back, breaking off from the foyer and following her into the kitchen. “You want to try inside?”

  “Yes!” Madison shrills.

  “How long are you going to be here?” Charlie whines, shuffling down the hall after them. “Because you said you’d help me with the last level of Amnesia and that was, like, weeks ago!”

  “We shall play and beat Amnesia, my dear boy.” James’s voice waxes and wanes fro
m the kitchen.

  “I’m going to head upstairs and gather the laundry, get a jump on Madison’s outfits for next week, maybe,” Maggie says, drifting toward the staircase.

  I almost insist that she spend more time with James, but then I remember that she’s not really part of the family. She’s an employee and can spend her free time however she likes, so I wave goodbye to her and go to hang out with my brother, who lives on the other side of the mountain and doesn’t visit every week by a long shot.

  After Charlie has been satisfied by completing the final boss fight on Amnesia, and Maggie is upstairs, helping Madison with her bedtime routine, James shrugs on his coat and says he’d better get going if he wants to be home before dark.

  “It’s already pitch black out there, boy,” I tell him, slapping his back and dragging him close for a quick, hard hug. “Better get going. Drive safe, OK?”

  “Hey, man, before I go,” James says, glancing upstairs and then back to me, lowering his voice further. “Are you sure about this new nanny? Did you check her out before you let her in?”

  I scoff openly. “You know me. I made her pee in a cup and everything.”

  “OK. She does seem perfectly nice. I worry about the kids, after Astrid and Charlie and all that.”

  “I ran her social,” I explain tersely. “She’s a clean twenty-two-year-old who just got her degree from Oberlin. Child psych. With old lady neighbor references.”

  “All right, all right, if she’s got old lady neighbor references.” James puts his hands up in surrender and laughs, shaking his head. “And if Rachel picked her, she must be on the straight and narrow.”

  We say goodbye and embrace again. We agree that we’ll see each other on Thanksgiving, and I open the front door. Bitter black night howls outside the porch, and I close the door a little, telling James that he can stay in the guest room, if he wants to.

  “Hell yes,” he barks loudly. Then he lowers his voice, “That’s the new nanny’s room now, isn’t it?”

  I glower. “The other guest room,” I clarify. “So, you don’t trust her enough to be around my kids, but you’ll still sleep with her.”

  “I’m a skeptical man, which means that I only believe in the things that I can touch and feel,” he tells me with a proud little smirk. “Give me one night with her and I’ll check her out. I’ll make sure everything is… on the up and up, as they say.”

  “Thank you, that won’t be necessary,” I grumble, now ushering him out into that hellscape.

  “I’m FBI!” James cries proudly, pivoting in the door frame. I slam it as he adds, “Female Body Inspector!”

  I turn from the closed door and Maggie stands on the stairs, peering at me with amusement crinkling her large gray eyes. “I wanted to let you know that Madison wants you to read her the bedtime story tonight.”

  “Of course.”

  I step past Maggie on the stairs and she adds, in a warm, flirtatious voice, “And thank you for not letting your brother inspect my body.”

  I’m reminded of how deeply I inspected her body only a few days ago and nod stiffly, refusing to turn around and look at her.

  “No problem,” I croak. “Good night, Maggie.”

  One of us has to be strong.

  Chapter 11

  Sofia

  My itinerary around the Gray cabin doubles when Graytech suffers a plummet in stock and Lucas unexpectedly flies to California for the week, trying to smooth out public relations with what seems to be a tour of press conferences, all centered around a new virus in one of their apps. It seems to all be in malicious fun, because all it does is brick your phone, but it’s still enough to send Lucas packing his suitcases with his hair practically falling out.

  “And Thanksgiving is next week, too, so this couldn’t have happened at a worse time,” he babbles, shoving suit after suit into his polished, taupe-colored suitcase. “What with Black Friday and all, it’s so vicious, a corporate blood sport, I’ll be amazed if I can sleep a wink on Thanksgiving.” Lucas pauses to swiftly punch the air with a right cross, then continues packing like he wasn’t socking at phantoms.

  “Thanksgiving is next week,” I echo softly, verging on a panic attack. “Aren’t we hosting it this year?”

  “Yes, for Astrid and James and the kids and my parents and ourselves,” Lucas growls. “It’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

  “I’m going to have to do it all alone,” I say, the thought of cooking that massive dinner looming on me now.

  “No, no, no, I’ll be back in time,” Lucas reassures me, crossing over the foot of his bed and bracing my shoulders with his fingertips.

  My eyes pan up to his and the urge to kiss him rolls through my body like a physical push. I hold myself at bay, even though I can almost pretend that I’m his wife when he speaks so supportively and doting like that, talking about our domestic responsibilities together. “Things will still be crazy,” he adds, clapping me on the shoulder. “The kids will be out of school. So, good luck.”

  Lucas stoops down and delivers a quick, friendly kiss to my cheek. Tingles spread from the contact point and my eyelashes flutter up at him. My lips throb for his.

  “And good luck to you, too, on your business trip,” I offer him in a whisper, arching on the tips of my toes and pressing my mouth to the corner of his.

  He freezes, rigid, and doesn’t respond, but the impact moves through his body. The air between us seethes with chemistry.

  “And good luck with all the shopping,” Lucas whispers back, ducking down and kissing me once, lightly, on the mouth. His hand wraps around my upper arm and doesn’t let go, though. “And the cooking.” His mouth crushes to mine again, robbing my breath, and my free arm comes up and winds around the back of his neck. “And the cleaning,” he adds, and this time, our mouths open together and we ditch the pretense of a conversation. His tongue is in my mouth and his hands grope down my back. My fingers are in his hair. I suck on his tongue and his erection thrums against my belly button and I whimper softly.

  The whimper seems to break the spell, and he releases me. His hands twist up around my arms and unhook them from behind his neck. His hair and his eyes are wild. His chest heaves and his gaze on me is hot.

  “You should go,” he commands me, simple and abrupt. There’s no hint of emotion to tell me if he’s mad.

  “Yes, sir,” I whisper and scurry from the room, feeling like an asshole.

  We don’t talk again, and he leaves me another several sheets of paper on the kitchen counter. More itineraries. I guess he’ll be back next week, and then, it’s just me and these kids. Agent Callahan knocks at the door again. I don’t answer. I stand on the other side of the door and tremble.

  If I was a true criminal, I would take this time to steal all Lucas’s stuff and sell it. Then I would take the cash and disappear because, let’s face it, this can’t last forever. But I don’t. Because I’m not a true criminal. I love Lucas, as a person, of course. And I love his kids. And I want to pretend that this is my life for a few more weeks, or even days. I want to pretend that I could be Maggie Marshall, nanny and dirty secret.

  One lonely night, while Lucas is still gone and the kids are fast asleep and the sound of a snowstorm rages all around the dark cabin, I light a candle on the vanity and take out a piece of paper. I pull out a pen and lean over the paper.

  Hey, Maggie.

  It’s me. Sofia.

  I glance at myself in the vanity mirror, examining my features in the soft yellow light of the flame. My blond curls hang over my brow, unruly, and my eyes are brooding, my mouth sullen. I’m wearing another silk nightgown, because I have a huge soft spot for flowing, feminine things. This nightgown is pure black with a hint of olive green filigree. It’s darkly sexy, and it makes me wish that Lucas was here to keep me warm tonight.

  This is Sofia’s reflection, all right. Maggie and I have pretended to be each other throughout our lives, but when anyone looks closely, they can tell. Maggie is a sparkling snowflake, like human su
gar. But I’m kind of a bitch. I prefer not to think of it that way. I am like a spider, or a cat, or a shark. I will do what I have to, in order to survive. Even lie.

  But I’m not a bad girl. I might have been the evil twin, but I’m not a bad girl.

  I glare at myself and then tear my eyes away, turning my attention back to the letter. I haven’t spoken to Maggie in weeks. The last thing she knew was that I had disappeared from Cleveland. I have to write her. I have to let her know that I’m OK, even if there are some risks.

  I won’t give too much information, but the investigator already knows that I’m somewhere here. I just want to say that I’m safe, and I’m happy where I am. I hope you’re safe and happy, too.

  Trust me, baby sister. I will never regret what I did for you, even if it costs me my life.

  I met someone, if you can believe it. I’m working for him right now. It’s the only way I can survive. I don’t have a car. Oh, wait, that sounds bad! “I met someone, I’m working for him, it’s the only way I can survive,” lol. Let me rephrase everything.

  He’s... fuck. Where to start?

  He reminds me of the kind of strength and serenity—and danger and mystery—that you feel when you’re in the woods at night. Like anything can happen. I don’t want to give away too much, just in case this is all intercepted, but he’s hunky. Trust me, the sex is willing as fuck.

  Live your life, mamacita. Love it. If you don’t, then everything I risked was for nothing. I love you, baby girl. Happy Thanksgiving and if I don’t get another chance, Merry Christmas!

  Love

  Your best sister

  And your only sister

  SOFIA

  I fold the parchment and slide it into an envelope, licking and pasting it shut. I write Maggie’s current address on it—likely the same address that appeared on the background check that Lucas did—but I don’t write his address.

  I scamper outside in my nightie and a pair of snow boots, being mercilessly pelted with warp speed snowflakes as I bolt for the mailbox. I skid into the thing, pry open its cold metal door, put the letter inside, slam it, then scamper back inside, rubbing my arms, teeth chattering.