Page 12 of Worth Every Risk

“Nervous. Yes. You said that. But seeing as you aren’t one to Google people, you might as well get to know me face-to-face. Nine o’clock. Downstairs in the dining room.”

That hint of worry never leaves her face, but she agrees to the meeting. I give Lucie another kiss and leave them to do the bedtime routine.

Evening light streams in the dining room windows, a hint of orange in the night sky. We’re approaching the longest day, and it’s still bright outside.

I’m sitting at the head of a dining table that’s far too long for one man who lives alone with his four year old daughter. It’s like a scene from Beauty and the Beast. I snort at the thought. Aries and Lucie have me comparing real-life scenarios to Disney cartoons. A pretty miserable comparison too.

The house is silent but for the tick of the grandfather clock in the hall. Eerie, but I’m so used to it I hardly notice. I push my plate away and pour myself a glass of wine. I take a sip of the deep red, feeling the tannin hit my teeth.

I let a lot of the staff go after the divorce went through. They’re still on the payroll, but I sent them with Gemma. I prefer the house this way. It does mean that I normally clear my own plate after I eat. But not always. Either way, it’s gone in the morning; I still have enough staff to make sure that’s the case.

Tonight, there’s no one in the house but me, Lucie, and the new nanny. Aries.

Who calls their child Aries?An odd hollowing sensation starts in my stomach as her name passes through my mind.Maybe not hollowing… maybeflipping.

A tentative knock at the door breaks my contemplation.

“Come in.”

Aries, in a fresh, dry t-shirt, enters. She closes the door and stands before it, her hands clasped. The stance is more formal than I expected.

“Yes, sir?”

The question hangs in the air, and something about the way her voice edges up, that soft Scottish accent folding over the sounds, sets me on edge. Or maybe it’s her use of the word ‘sir’. Either way, I’m unsettled. And when she looks likethat… so casually sensual, effortlessly sexy, with the breasts and the hair and the lips and the bare fucking feet… I can’t help imagining the filthy instructions I want to give her…

I abort the thought and force my face into neutral. It’s wrong to think of the woman who’s here to care for my daughter that way.

“Take a seat,” I say, gesturing to the chair at my right hand side. There’s nothing friendly about my tone, and Aries’ usually relaxed brow creases, while her full, pink lips pull tight. The smile she so readily brandishes is absent, and I regret that I’ve frightened it away. I have to smother the urge to apologise, to put her at ease, to dosomethingto bring it back. This is a professional relationship, and I need to keep those boundaries in place.

She doesn’t look at me as she sits. There’s a compressing sensation in my chest, as if she’s radiating some kind of force. It’s mildly alarming.

She places her phone on the table. I stare at it as I haven’t seen a model that old in years. “What’s that?” I ask.

She looks up, noticing my focus. “Oh. My phone.”

“You can’t use that.”

She runs her fingers over it but doesn’t lift it up. “It works. I use it all the time. Calls and texts. That’s all I need it to do.”

To my amazement, she appears completely serious. “What if you get lost? You’re new to London, aren’t you?”

“I am. I’m not worried about getting lost. I’ll ask someone.”

“You’ll…asksomeone?”

Those large green eyes expand, and I get the sense she’s suffering the same amazed bafflement I am, but for an entirely different reason. “Yes. And I have an A to Z upstairs. It’s small. I can take it in my handbag—”

“An A to Z?” I blurt. I haven’t seen one of the pocket street maps of London for about a decade. They became redundant when the smartphone came in. “Where did you get one of those?”

“Ebay.”

This woman is something else. “I’m ordering you a new phone.” I lift my own phone, intending to send my PA a message about it.

A small, slim-fingered hand touches my wrist. It’s so unexpected that I nearly drop my phone. I don’t know if Aries noticed my reaction, but if she did, she doesn’t comment on it.

“Please, don’t,” she says, her hand still resting on my wrist.

Why is she touching me?“Don’t?”

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