Page 10 of Worth Every Risk

It’s only one summer, I suppose.

The click of heels on the floor draws my attention and I look up to find Mrs Minter standing before me, buttoning up her camel trench coat.

“Mr Hawkston,” she greets, and I nod. “Is there anything you need before I head home?”

“A word, actually,” I say, beckoning her to follow me to my office. I hold the door for her to pass in before me, then close it behind us. “The nanny,” I say as I walk around my desk and take a seat behind it. Mrs Minter stands to attention on the other side.

“Yes?” she says, caution evident in her tone. I’m immediately alert.Does Mrs Minter expect me to have issues with this woman already?

“She’s been fully checked out and vetted?”

“Of course. Background checks run. She has an excellent record. I spoke with her former employers. They all raved about her. Said she’s honest and trustworthy and very loving.”

Loving?“She’s not your usual hire. Not a Norland Nanny.”

Mrs Minter’s lips purse at the mention of the esteemed agency.What is she not telling me?“If you don’t like her, I can find someone else. But Lucie’s very fond of her. They’ve been playing together all afternoon. I’ve just left them doing bath time and Aries is going to put her to bed if you want to go up in half an hour to say goodnight.”

Aries. What a fucking ridiculous name. “Thank you. And you’re fully behind this hire?”

“I am. I sent you all her details. Her CV. You approved it.”

“I did?”

Mrs Minter narrows her eyes on me, but there’s a softness there too. She knows as well as I do that I’ve not been on the ball since the divorce. “You did, sir.”

I scratch the back of my neck. “All right. Thanks.”

“Will that be all?” she asks, as she fixes her last button, and I nod. “Then I’ll bid you good night and see you in the morning. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything. We did a walk around the area so Aries knows where the nursery is andthe routine. If there’s anything she doesn’t know, she has my number. I doubt she’ll need to disturb you at all.”

For some reason, the idea of this strange young woman not disturbing meat alldoesn’t feel great, but I don’t let it show on my face. “Great. Thank you. It’s an important role, caring for Lucie. But you know that…”

Mrs Minter smiles, and her face wears such a kind expression that an odd feeling of comfort seeps through my chest. Perhaps this is what it feels like to be looked at by a mother who actually gives a flying fuck. I wouldn’t know.

“Lucie is a wonderful little girl, Mr Hawkston. And to my mind, Aries is the perfect woman to nurture her, if you can bear to give her a chance to settle in. I know she’s a bit… much.”

Much?Understatement of the century. “I think I can bear it,” I reply, my voice expressionless.

Mrs Minter smiles again and bows her head to excuse herself before she leaves the room.

I sit alone for a few moments, not wanting to rush out after her and appear too eager in my rush to see Lucie and Aries. But I’m itching to go upstairs and I last less than a minute at my desk. I rarely take the lift, preferring the exercise of the steps, and tonight I take them faster than usual.

When I reach the landing the sound of Lucie’s giggles coming from the bathroom greets me, frothy and delicate like bubbles.So fucking easy to pop.When Gemma and I were together, Lucie’s laughter died pretty quickly if she heard us fighting.

Aries’ voice, light and full of laughter, stretches along the corridor. “Oh, no, you’ve soaked me.”

I approach the bathroom door and gently tap it with my knuckle.

“Yes?”

“It’s…” I pause for a moment, wondering what to call myself.

“Daddeeeeeee!” comes Lucie’s excited squeal and I push open the door, to find her still in a bath, half-submerged beneath more bubbles than I’ve ever seen. The surface of the water is entirely obscured, and still more bubbles dangle from Lucie’s chin like a flimsy white beard.

“Ho ho ho, Daddy. I’m Father Christmas.” She scoops up more foam in her palm and holds it out to me. “Can I make you Father Christmas too?”

I glance at Aries, who’s kneeling by the bathtub, long red hair falling down her back. Her eyes are green, but not pure green—a million colours are swirling in there—Christ, I’m far too close to her if I can see that. The thought causes discomfort beneath my ribcage, but even so, I can’t stop looking because her eyes seem to glisten with happiness. I’ve never seen eyes like them.

My gaze falls to her white t-shirt, which is sopping wet and entirely transparent. She’s not wearing a bra, and her breasts are distractingly large. The impulse to reach out and cup one in each hand and brush my thumbs over the nipples assaults my mind.

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