Page 45 of The Nanny Next Door

When I was done, caught up completely to how I was practically living every woman’s fantasy, both of their jaws dropped. Gina was the one who finally had the huge, hilarious reaction I really wanted. “Lila Dawson, you lucky, slutty bitch! Why don’t you save some of the orgies for the rest of us?”

I was on cloud nine when, after answering plenty of just-a-bit-intrusive questions and finally getting my friends’ staunch approval of my following my bliss, Jamie and I headed back to the subway. I probably should have called a car, since we were a bit far out from the Kramers’ Brooklyn brownstone, but the few times I’d taken Aaron up on that offer, it had been on rainy days or other times when I’d been less inclined to walk. Today, I was more than happy to enjoy the perfect weather, the little bit of exercise, and the freedom to be by myself in a crowd. Well, by myself with Jamie, too.

The nearest subway station to the brunch place was pretty busy, but not an unbearable crush. I people-watched a while as I waited for the next train, and while I was scanning the throngs, I spotted the timid woman I’d run into at the restaurant. She was talking to a slender, reedy man in a leather jacket, his greasy hair pulled back in a low bun, and their expressions and postures were tense as they had some kind of argument. It piqued my curiosity, but only a little.

Jamie started to fuss a little, wanting out of his stroller, so I hoisted him up into my arms and awkwardly struggled to fold the stroller back up—Aaron had only the fanciest, most high-tech baby gear, since his money was basically a love language. The train started to chug toward us as I was fumbling with the stroller, the baby, and my purse. Someone bumped into me from one side, and then from the other direction, a pair of arms were snatching Jamie right out of my arms.

“No!” I shrieked, my panic drowned out by the screech of the train pulling up to a stop. I spun around and saw stringy hair, an insubstantial woman’s frame retreating, Jamie screaming in her arms. “Jamie!” I called as I started to race after him down the platform, abandoning the stroller and my hopes of boarding the train. My brain was struggling to catch up, but I started to piece together details—I could have sworn that was the same woman from the restaurant, the woman who had been arguing with her seemingly-shitty boyfriend, and it dawned on me all at once where I knew her from.

It was from Jamie’s face, and Aaron’s, and the framed photo that lived in Jamie’s temporary bedroom at the penthouse. The woman who had just snatched a child from my arms was Whitney Pierce. There was no other explanation that made sense.

“Whit—” I started to call out, hoping I was right even as I wished this wasn’t happening, but then a pair of strong arms were grabbing me from behind, my nails digging into leather sleeves, and I was screaming. A struggle, a sharp pain, and then everything went black.

32

MILES

As I stood in the foyer of my brownstone, pacing back and forth, I couldn't help but glance at the clock again. Lila was late for her shift, just like that day when she’d hugged me and shifted things between us forever. Only she’d been so reliable ever since then, and this wasn’t just a little late, like the usual five or ten minutes due to traffic or a slow subway. This was over an hour. Olivia, sensing my unease, clutched her stuffed rabbit, Princess, and looked up at me with her wide eyes, just like her mother’s.

“Daddy, where’s Lila?” she asked, her small voice tinged with worry, a sharp contrast to the cuteness of her softened consonants—whewe’s Wiwa?

I forced a smile. “She’ll be here soon, sweetheart. Maybe she just got stuck in traffic.”

But deep down, I felt a gnawing worry I couldn’t shake. Lila was never this late without a call or a message. I took a deep breath and tried calling her phone again. It rang, and rang, and then went to voicemail. The sound of her cheerful, recorded voice did nothing to calm my nerves.

“Hey, this is Lila! I can’t come to the phone right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

I left another message, my voice tight with anxiety. “Lila, it’s Miles. Please call me back as soon as you get this. We’re worried about you.”

Hanging up, I ran a hand through my hair. I had to stay calm for Olivia’s sake, but the knot in my stomach was tightening by the minute. I quickly sent a text to Felipe, my business partner and friend, hoping he had some insight.

Miles: Have you heard from Lila today? She’s really late and not answering her phone.

Felipe’s reply was almost immediate.

Felipe: No, I haven’t. That’s unusual for her.

Another text pinged my phone while I was trying to call Aaron Pierce. Maybe Lila had mentioned something to him, or perhaps she was caught up in some errand related to her work with Jamie. But Aaron didn’t answer. I imagined him in one of his high-stakes business meetings, oblivious to the turmoil I was in.

“Come on, Aaron,” I muttered, leaving a voicemail. “Call me back as soon as you get this. It’s about Lila.”

I checked the text, finding another message from Felipe.

Felipe: Do you want me to come over?

I hesitated. Was I overreacting? But then I looked at Olivia, her eyes filled with concern, and my resolve hardened.

Miles: I’m going to Pierce Enterprises. Meet me there.

I couldn’t just sit and wait any longer. Making a decision, I scooped up Olivia, who wrapped her arms around my neck, clearly sensing my distress. “We’re going to see Uncle Aaron, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” she said softly, her head resting on my shoulder.

I called us a cab instead of taking the train, wasting no time. The ride to Aaron’s office felt interminable. Every red light, every slow pedestrian crossing the street—it all compounded my anxiety until my pulse thundered at dangerous speeds. Olivia remained quiet, her little hand clutching Princess Bunny, her eyes on my face. I made sure to keep my cool outwardly for her sake, and I even shot off a message to Mrs. Nguyen, who I knew was in town, hoping to get some arrangements for Olivia while I tried to sort out whatever brewing crisis I could feel in my bones. For once, my compartmentalization was serving someone other than myself.

When we finally arrived, Felipe was already there, waiting for us in the lobby. His normally relaxed demeanor was gone, replaced with a tense urgency that mirrored my own.

“Any news?” he asked as we approached.

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