Page 6 of The Billionaire and the Nanny: Part 2

Bailey

This is his house?

Seriously???

This is a magazine home come to life. It’s the most amazing house I’ve everseen.

I’m standing inside the foyer of Zayden Hawthorn’s multi-million, ultra-modern home on the Upper West Side in New York City, my stomach jittering like crazy. The place is so fancy, the platinum has platinum on it, the marble has marble on it, and the doorbell alone is nicer than anything I own in my crappy Queens apartment. Luckily, I won’t be there for long. A few months to possibly a year at the Hawthorn home, theysaid.

It all depends on when the baby’s mother gets out of prison and when social services allows the child to go home toher.

So sad. It’s a good thing the baby, whose full name is Olivia Noelle Bardem, is young so hopefully, she won’t remember this confusing time. I fully intend on making her transition here as smooth and happy as possible, and with the credit card Mr. Hawthorn plans on giving me for anything the baby or I should need, that shouldn’t be a problem.

After a minute, the sound of airy footsteps comes up to the door. It opens and there stands the sexiest maid I have ever seen. Like something out of fantasy porn, complete with short black skirt and apron. All that’s missing are the fishnet stockings. “Hello, are you Bailey?” At least she’s warm and friendly.

“Yes! I’m here as Olivia’s nanny?” I say brightly, even though she already knows why I’m here, considering she knew myname.

“I’m Vero. I’ll show you to your room.” Vero, slinky cat that she is, lets me in, closes the door, and proceeds to lead the way as though she were modeling a Versace gown down a catwalk in Milano. Every so often, she speaks over her shoulder, lets me know where the kitchen is, where the living room is, where the bathroom is…who that woman is cooking in the kitchen (Mr. Hawthorn’s personal chef, Miss Helga…yes, Helga), but all I can think is that I’m out of place.

Even fish out of water feel at home compared tome.

For starters, I don’t look like the rest of the staff. I don’t exude sex, and my round ass would never fit into a skirt like that. My makeup is from Walgreens, not Sephora, and I got my clothes from the clearance rack at Target. Then again, I’m the one who’s going to have baby grunge on my clothes by the end of the day, so why bother with anything nice? I’m in a class all my own, I decide. I don’t have to look likethem.

My room is on the second floor at the end of the hall connected to the baby’s room. Vero says with a breathy, rehearsed, perfect voice, “I will be here until five today. Let me know if you need anything.” She should be in the movies, she’s so gorgeous.

“Thank you. You’ve been so sweet,” Isay.

“My pleasure, hon.” Her smile radiates starshine.

I close the door to my room and exhale a huge sigh of relief. Taking a long look around, I notice that my bedspread is gray, my walls are lighter gray, and the furniture is gray antique wood. The rug in the middle of the room is gray, and my ceiling fan looks like the propeller of a twin-engine plane. “First thing I’m getting with your credit card, Mr. Hawthorn, is a yellow accent pillow and an orange throw blanket.” I laugh to myself. “This place needs brightening.”

“Does it?” The deep, alluring voice of Mr. Hawthorn comes out of nowhere. I whip toward the sound, and there he is, standing in the doorway to the connecting room. Was he watching me all along?

“I’m sorry,” I swallow, palm to my chest. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“It’s my house. I think I’m allowed.”

“Oh! Most definitely! I just…should stay quiet from now on is what I should do.” My smile is forced and full of hesitation. My laughter sounds like a hyena cackling in the middle of The Great Gatsby’s living room. How do I move on from this? “Your house is absolutely beautiful, Mr. Hawthorn. Clearly, you have wonderful taste.”

“Except for the drab gray room?” He stares down into his phone as he talks tome.

“Oh, gosh, no. I was just…I was just kidding. It’s perfect.”

I see the bullshit detector built into his eyebrows when he glances up at me. “Find something you like online. I’ll have it delivered before the end of the day.” He checks his watch and clucks his tongue, like he’s runninglate.

“Um…thank you. Should I get started right away? Is the baby awake?”

“She arrives this afternoon. In the meantime, prepare her room however you like, purchase bedding, arrange things however you need. Get yourself situated. Just so we’re clear, you are Olivia’s full-time nanny. You’ll spend time with her as you would your own child. More so, because you’re being paidwell.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have it any otherway.”

“You won’t go out. You won’t meet up with friends while you’re watching the baby. And also, so we’re clear…” His sharp eyes mean business. “I don’t want to be taken out of my schedule for any reason unless it’s an absolute emergency. I didn’t ask for this, so I can’t be bothered with questions. Pink or purple, this outfit or that, I don’t care. Use your best judgment. It’s why I hired you. Clear?”

It’s hard to look away from his mesmerizing, cold blue eyes. They’re like ice, so calculated, yet I can see where the laugh lines would go on his face if he were in a lighter mood. “Crystal,” I reply, wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myselfinto.

* * *

It’s latein the afternoon when baby Olivia finally arrives from social services. By that time, I’ve already made her nursery into a compilation of bright patchwork blended with muted vanilla sheets and furniture, along with a few beautiful hand-crafted stuffed animals and a mobile for her crib. Though it was fun to order furniture from a catalog and have it all delivered and assembled faster than it would take me to dry my hair, I err on the side of sensibility and order nothing for my bedroom, as Zayden suggested.

---