Page 11 of The Billionaire and the Nanny

We’re both exhausted. I barely have the strength to lift her and settle her down on her pillow, then I curl up next to her. I should probably leave, but I can’t—I’ve never seen such a beautiful sight in what’s left of the moonlight. An angel waking up from a dream, glancing at me like I’m her star-crossed lover, then falling asleep faster than shecame.

I look away. I can’t take in the vision. I can’t stare straight at her or I’ll feel, and that was the last thing I wanted when I camehere.

Still, I stroke her arm gently and move her hair all to one side, because it’s too silky not to touch, and anyway, she’s fallen asleep. Fascinating creature, this Penelope Wallach, some kind of siren beckoning me to the rocks, where I will surely crash and be destroyed if I let myself. And I’m a fucking idiot who needs to get the fuck out of this room before I ravage her all over again.

Once she’s twitching in her sleep a half hour later, I slip out of bed and pull on my pants, carrying my shirt over my arm. I give her one last glance—beauty in sleep—before exiting the way I came in, through the bathroom. Turning off the hallway light, I close that door and quietly shuffle past the baby’s room. Inside, Lilly Belle stirs, whining in her sleep. Did she hear us grunting and moaning in there? Is she dreaming about her mother?

I can’t fucking think aboutthat.

I don’t want Penelope waking up after I so effectively put her to sleep, especially since she’s with the baby all day long. The woman needs a break, and I’m not a total asshole. I slip into the nursery I’ve kept sparse on purpose, because what the hell—she’s not going to stay here very long—and peer over the edge of the crib. The baby pumps her little arms and legs with eyes closed. Bad dream. I turn her onto her side and pat her tiny body. “Shh, shh,” I tell her, like Penelope did on the firstday.

The new nanny has already taught me something.

The baby immediately settles into peaceful sleep again, sucking on an invisible bottle, tiny pouty lips moving up anddown.

My chest tightens and I swallowhard.

Fuck. This isn’t how it was supposed tobe.

Too bad I’m not the right dad for her. I’m not even the right uncle.

But perhaps it’s better this way. Better to lose your parents early, because this is what real life is like—surviving on your own—and the sooner she learns that, the better.

I cover her up and leave the room, making my way back to my wing of the house through empty, cold hallways.

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