Page 4 of The Billionaire and the Nanny: Part 2

Zayden

I’m completely takenwith this Bailey Rainville—her gorgeous heart-shaped face, her kickass hourglass figure, her blonde pulled-back hair...even her hotheaded little attitude. Everything’s fine…up until the baby starts crying in her arms. What in the actualfuck?

She begins bouncing her around, shushing the baby, as everyone watches, and it’s like the poor girl is auditioning for America’s Got Talent right before Simon Cowell buzzes her off the stage.

Shit. Did I just sign her on without even testing herout?

Was I that blinded by her gorgeous tits, the sexy pouting mouth, those innocent yet sensualeyes?

I liked what she said in the interview room, too. It made sense to me. All you need is a ton of determination, passion, and the rest will come naturally. It’s how I built my business from the ground up. I didn’t come from a wealthy family and wasn’t given a huge business loan. I didn’t know shit about the plane rental business. But I figured out my own way. Her words spoke to me. Plus, she looked so fucking cute while making her case, I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

But now, watching her crash and burn, I wonder what I’vedone.

That’s the last time I hire someone based on how hot they’d look walking around my house.

I’m ready to take the contract and rip it up, claim temporary insanity when suddenly, Miss Rainville pulls her set of keys out of her purse and begins dangling them in front of the baby. Immediately, the thing quiets down, and watches her jingling with deep fascination. Even I’m watching with deep fascination.

Damn, the kid’s eyes. She looks like me. There’s no denying that’s mykid.

After a minute, she stops crying, and everyone lets out this sort of collective sigh of relief. Maybe Miss Rainville will work out afterall.

“I’m sorry,” she says, a sheen of sweat forming on her brow. I wonder if the same happens when she’s coming like a freight train. She blows away a wisp of hair that’s fallen into her face. “Maybe I should’ve asked before, but could someone explain whose baby I’m holding?”

Eleanor from social services steps forward. “Forgive me, Miss Rainville, I thought Mr. Hawthorn would’ve explained during the interview…” I give Eleanor the evil eye and she gives it rightback.

“This is why we insist on being part of the interview process,” she adds, insulting the way I wanted to handle things. Why social services should be a part of interviewing my caretaker for my baby was a mystery tome.

Eleanor clears her throat. “You’re being consideredfor—”

“Olivia is my daughter,” I interrupt, turning to Miss Rainville. No one needs to explain this for me. It’s my child, my situation, my nanny. “I only found out a week ago. The child’s mother, I’m sorry to say, has landed herself in jail for…what is it again?”

“Selling counterfeit purses,” George, my lawyer, says, hands in his pockets.

“Selling counterfeit purses,” I echo, facing Miss Rainville’s wide questioning honey brown eyes again. “A repeat offense, apparently. The guy she was with failed the paternity test, and then the woman claimed I was the father…and anyway, none of that is important. All you need to know is that I’ll be watching Olivia while her mother serves her prison sentence, which should be a few months, tops.”

Miss Rainville paces back and forth, still dangling the keys in front of Olivia’s eyes, quite hypnotically. “So you need a nanny temporarily.”

“If all goes well, yes.” I try to smile as if this is all completely normal.

But the truth is, I feel uncomfortable explaining this situation. I barely remember the baby’s mother.

She was the waitress at a restaurant in Atlanta when I was there for business. She assured me she was on the pill, and I had a brief moment of doubt. But sometimes, when I’m on business, and it gets a little lonely, I find companionship.

Or often enough, it findsme.

Either way, I suppose I screwed up and now I’m going to pay for mysins…

I’ve only accepted the baby’s placement with me out of pure obligation ever since the paternity test came back positive. Because the truth is, I don’t like babies, I never expected one to be dropped off on my doorstep, and I plan on avoiding it as much as I can while it’s staying at my house.

The woman to care for her has to be utterly perfect, a baby guru, but soon, the jingling of the keys begins to lose its magic, and soon, Olivia is crying again.

Fuck. I chose too quickly. “Can’t you give her a bottle or something?” Iask.

“I, uh…I think she’s fighting sleep,” Miss Rainville says, switching the baby’s position from cradling to over her shoulder, and the crying hushes down again. Within a few seconds, Olivia is sucking on her hand and closing hereyes.

I’ll be damned.

I have to say, Miss Rainville is two for two. Twice now, the tiny human has been on the edge of losing it, and twice now, Miss Nanny has managed to work some sort of baby sorcery on her. Not bad. Not bad at all. Maybe I did choose well after all, and the pretty face and voluptuous body are only an added benefit.

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