Page 65 of Nanny for the Firefighters

"I'm not scared." Dropping her hands, they plunk onto her hips.

"Yes. You are." I take a step forward, and she doesn't back down, letting the sweet scent of her skin, her shampoo and conditioner, and how it mixes to create her own unique smell hit me with the kind of feelings I've always been to afraid to feel.

And she doesn't want to take the chance on me? It tears my insides to pieces.

"You're scared. And I just wish you'd let me help you instead of pushing me away." I reach out to touch her, but she pulls back.

"You're wrong. You can't help me. Not right now. I can't do this." Ella turns back toward the house.

"I feel sad for you, Ella. Terribly, terribly sad for you."

"Even so. I can't risk being in a relationship right now. You're wasting your time. You should just go." And Ella finally leaves me, marching back into the house and closing the door loudly.

I sink back against the tailgate and rub my face in my hands. Well, that could have gone better. Stupid fucking impulses. Yanking myself back up, I drive to the manor to meet the guys, thinking all the while of what Ella said and what she didn't say. What it all alluded to.

There's something going on. I park the car near a secluded spot on Ocean Drive and make a call to a friend. I ask him to fetch me some information— and this guy is good at what he does. If he can't get to the bottom of all this, no one can. I quickly send him Ella's profile and stats, plus what Theo has told us about her. I also tell him about her odd taste for vanishing at nights and not returning till the bleak hours of the morning.

Back at the manor, I tell the boys what I've learned.

Two days later, , I have a few of the puzzle pieces put together.

30

ELLA

AMonth later

I settle into the soft embrace of my new couch, sinking into the deep blue cushions with a contented sigh. The apartment is finally mine. Warm, cream-colored walls and gleaming hardwood floors surround me.. Sunlight pours through the large bay window, casting a golden glow that dances across the room. A gentle breeze carries the scents of fresh paint and newly sanded wood, mingling with the aroma of the sweet milk tea in my hands.

The kitchen, with its polished granite countertops and white cabinets, issmall but well-equipped, perfect for the simple meals I'll prepare for myself and the baby once they cross six months. I take a sip of my tea, savoring the blend of cardamom and cloves.

The nursery, just off the living room, is a haven of soft pastels and whimsical animal decals. I've left enough space for a floor bed and a crib, whichever seems right at the time.. I rub my belly. There's nothing yet, but a few days ago, I heard my little one's heart beat like trains running through fields at night. Nothing has ever sounded so perfect. I'm ready for them.

Balancing my cup of tea, I move to my work desk—a sturdy oak piece that once belonged to my father. It's cluttered with papers, photos, and my laptop, which hums softly, its screen filled with documents and surveillance footage. I push aside a stack of notes to make room for my tea, my mind already shifting gears.

My phone buzzes, drawing my attention. Vanessa's taunting text lights up the screen. "Tick tock, Ella. Don't forget our little deal." I clench my jaw, anger bubbling up inside me. I can't let her win. Not now.

I open the folder marked Vanessa, my fingers trembling slightly. It's packed with incriminating evidence. Photos of her cozying up to unsuspecting men, financial records of her siphoning off their money, and the sham marriage certificate from Vegas. She was still married to Marcus when she pulled that stunt, and now I have the proof.

"One last asshole," I mutter, flipping through the pages. "Then I can finally put Verity Vixen to rest." My alter ego, the fierce protector of families, has been my armor, my outlet. But with my baby on the way, it's time to pull the plug. Vanessa's threats have pushed me to the edge, but they won't break me.

I scan the notes I've gathered on Vanessa's latest target—a wealthy businessman with a penchant for young, exotic women. The pattern is all too familiar. She woos them, wins their trust, then drains them dry. But this time, she's slipped up. I have a recording of her boasting about her fake Vegas wedding, a critical piece of evidence that could expose her and save her latest victim.

I lean back in my chair, my mind whirling with plans. I have to be careful. Vanessa is dangerous, and she's already proven she won't hesitate to use my secret against me. But I have the upper hand now. This is the final piece of the puzzle. I just need to play it right.

My fingers dance over the keyboard, organizing the evidence, compiling it into a damning report. The adrenaline courses through me, a familiar rush that sharpens my focus. This is what I was born to do—unravel lies, protect the innocent, and bring justice to those who think they can get away with anything.

As I finish, I take another sip of my tea, savoring the calm before the storm. I touch my stomach once more, reminding myself of what is truly important. "Almost done, sweetheart," I whisper. "Just one last mission, and then it's you and me against the world."

I glance at the clock. Time is running out, but I'm ready. Vanessa's reign of deceit is about to crumble, and Verity Vixen will have her final victory. With a deep breath, I close the folder, resolve hardening in my chest. It's time to end this once and for all.

But maybe I will take a nap first. While I'm still functional,the first trimester blues are pretty hard. I'm having the sweetest time waiting for my baby's arrival, and while I've missed Lily and the boys terribly, it's been… good knowing that I'll never be alone.

I have a feeling she's a girl. I almost know it in my bones.

Part of me is still convinced the men should know. I don't care about having a specific dad for my baby, but if they choose to be involved, it'll be amazing. The more love there is, the more a child flourishes. I've made up my mind that once I've left Vanessa inhaling dust, I will tell the men about my pregnancy.

Lazy thoughts swirl in my head as I make my way to the couch. I settle back, adjusting a pillow behind my head. I sigh, closing my eyes. Every last ounce of energy will matter tonight.

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