Page 30 of The Billionaire and the Nanny: Part 2

Zayden

It goeson night after night.

After night.

Me and Bailey, hooking up after hours, after the baby goes to sleep. Sometimes it’s hardcore. Sometimes it’s sweet. Sometimes I leave right afterwards and sometimes I fall asleep in her arms. Those are the most conflicting moments. On one hand, I want to breathe in her skin and stay warm by her chest all night. On the other, I yearn for days gone by, a family torn apart, and paradiselost.

Yes, paradiselost.

We had it all as a family, but Callum’s death destroyed it. Some families pull together after tragedy. Some fall apart. That was us. I’d put the death of my brother and family out of my mind and locked it away in a safe, but being with Bailey and Olivia these last two weeks has brought lots of memoriesback.

Memories I don’t think I can handle.

So I drown out the pain with nightly visits to Bailey’s room. I’ll do this for as long as she’ll let me. We don’t go out much, and when we do, I keep my distance. I don’t want anyone thinking we’re a family, because I don’t want it getting into Bailey’s head. At a café the other day, someone said that she and her “husband” and the baby made a cute little family, and Bailey didn’t bother to correct them. I know that being intimate is blurring the lines and sometimes it might be hard for her to remember that she’s the nanny I hired, not my girlfriend.

Of course, if I wasn’t damaged goods, she would be my girlfriend. My girlfriend and so muchmore.

Not only is she gorgeous, but she’s great with the baby, she’s smart as a whip, and she’s the only woman I’ve ever allowed to feel like she’s keeping me in line. Whenever she gets sassy on me, I’ll smirk, let her get away with it, and that makes her happy. Again, it’s all about that smile. I’ll do anything to see it everyday.

Almost anything.

While I work from home all day, I can hear Bailey having a tough time with Olivia. Those teeth are coming in something fierce, and the little thing can scream her head off. After she finally falls asleep, I come prowling around Bailey’s room. The first few days of this ongoing sex streak, she comes looking for me, all gung-ho into it. But lately, it’s been me seeking herout.

I knock and open the door. She’s wrapped in a towel. “You lookhot.”

She smirks, no smile. Instead, she walks around the room, throwing a brush here, tossing a hair clip there. “I can’t find my fucking round brush for blow-drying.”

Bailey, cursing? Doesn’t happen often. “Why do you need it? You look sexy as fuck just like that with your hair allwet.”

Another smirk fromher.

A red flag goes up. Maybe it’s that time of the month. “You okay, sweetheart?”

She sinks into the edge of the bed and crosses her arms and legs. Serious shit’s coming. I can feel it. And this is how the honeymoon phase begins to end. “Why do you call me sweetheart?” she asks, a seemingly innocent question—but somehow it makes the earth vibrate beneath myfeet.

“Because it’s my name for you, and you love it. You don’t want me calling you sweetheart anymore? Fine, sourheart. Better?” I laugh, but she doesn’t think it’s funny.

“I used to love it,” she says, her foot shaking violently up and down. “I don’t know why it bothers menow.”

“Fine, then I’ll stop.” I walk up to her and brush her hair back behind her neck. She takes my hand, waits a moment while she decides what the hell’s bothering her, then lo and behold…shoves my hand away like it’s a snake about to bite her. “What the fuck, Bailey?”

“What the fuck, Zayden?” She stands and begins pacing. “What the fuck is that we’ve been doing this every night for what? Almost three weeks now? And I don’tknow…”

“You don’t know? What is it you don’tknow?”

“I don’t know what we’re doing. I mean, is this all there is? You come to my room at night, take what you want, then rinse and repeat?”

“You take just as much from me,” I reply. “Nobody’s forcing you to be with me, Bailey. If you don’t want me coming anymore, I won’t. End of story.” I head out of the room. I don’t need this shit, and this is why I don’t do relationships—complication.

“No, that’s not it. That’s what you don’t understand,” she says, moving toward me. “I do love us spending time together, but we only see each other at night, in private, and that’sit.”

I turn and face her, my patience waning. “What do you want from me? I’m a busyman.”

She scoffs. “Yeah. Okay.”

“You don’t believeme?”

“Remember when you started working from home? Remember the day we went out shopping and spent the day together?” Her eyes plead with me to remember. I do. I’m just trying to forget the happiness I felt that day. It was most certainly only temporary. “Why can’t we do that again?” sheasks.

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