Page 51 of The Billionaire & the Nanny: Vol. 3

Paisley

W inter gives way to spring,and spring gives way to summer. It’s been the longest six months of my life. Lots of thinking. Lots. And moving. Last month, I used some of my nanny savings to rent out my own apartment in Chelsea right in the City. I have Logan to thank for that, though some might say I did that myself .

Either way, today I have my first interview since Logan’s .

It’s hard. I’m not going to lie. The memories come strong today, what I wore that morning, standing outside his penthouse worried about the interview, the way I felt when I first saw him. A mixture of terror and pure lust. It was a mistake. Inherently, I know it was. So why does it still hurt so damn much? If it wasn’t truly love, I would’ve forgotten about him by now .

Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I haven’t seen nor spoken to him since the courthouse when I cried and questioned my existence the whole train ride home. But today’s interview takes place near Battery Park, the site of the urban center Logan is building. Imagine my shock when I come up from the subway station to find that the buildings are nearing completion .

At four in the afternoon, the sun slants and glints off a gorgeous edifice of glass. I have to stop and soak it in—it’s breathtaking. About forty stories tall, the building’s exterior reflects the moody harbor so at times it appears light green and at others, like blue iridescent metal. Slightly different from the plans Logan showed me, but beautiful just the same .

Next to it, another building is nearly finished. I’m not sure what it is, but it wasn’t part of the blueprints and renderings he showed me. Must be something new. Then, I notice it—the teardrop pattern etched into the glass. As I walk toward the complex, the pattern appears and disappears depending on the angle .

Paisleys.

Logan worked paisleys into his buildings .

I can’t stop staring, as tears alarmingly rise into my eyes .

But why ?

I don’t want to admit it, because I know whose mind it came from, I know who designed it, but it’s hard to turn away. It’s the most beautiful building I’ve ever seen. And it’s been created with one person in mind .

Me.

An old woman sitting on a park bench next to me speaks. I didn’t even realize she was there, I’m standing here shaking so much. “Isn’t it gorgeous ?”

“It is,” I stammer .

“You should see it when it’s all lit up .”

“They’re already lighting it up? I thought it wouldn’t be done for another few months.” I keep my face turned away, in case the woman knows who I am from seeing my face in connection with Logan in the news .

“Oh, no, the library is finished. Just not open yet. The building next to it will take another month or two, but they’re going to do the ribbon-cutting both at once at the end of this month.” She nods her head, takes out her iPhone and snaps a few photos of it for her Snapchat story .

I almost laugh, because…well, she’s an old woman posting to her Snapchat story. But she clearly needs someone to talk to, and I’m rooted to my spot, staring at the masterpiece. It’s the most beautiful thing this park has seen in years. I could stare at it all day. Problem is, I have to get going. Besides, staring at a manifestation of Logan’s imagination right before my interview might not be the best thing to do .

I start off down the sidewalk again .

“Between the colors and the curves,” the woman continues. I slow down and turn to look at her. She’s smiling faintly. “You’d think the architect was inspired by that lady out there.” Following her gaze, I see she’s staring across the harbor at the Statue of Liberty. “Or maybe some other muse.” She looks straight into my eyes, into my soul, as some might say. “A living Mona Lisa for the architect. Wouldn’t that be something ?”

“Yes,” I reply, averting my face again. She knows who I am. She’s made the connection. “Yes, it would be .”

“A living work of art. Feminine, strong, evocative. Anyway, what do I know?” She laughs and goes back to Snapchatting. “Have a nice day .”

“You, too.” I take off faster than a pregnant woman in need of a bathroom .

Why would he add those paisleys, and what’s with the sea foam glass that changes when the light hits it just the right way? He can’t possibly still think of me. He hasn’t called me in six months. Wouldn’t he have called by now if he still thought of me ?

Maybe he wants to but he’s too proud ?

Tears well up in my eyes. I wipe them. Can’t think about Logan now when I’m three streets from my interview. All I know is if he hasn’t asked for forgiveness, then it wasn’t meant to be. A gentleman would’ve come back to me by now .

* * *

G etting the job was easy.The first thing they did was see that I’d taken care of twins for four months and handed it to me on a silver platter. It’s an old couple caring for their granddaughter, so luckily, they don’t know about Logan Raider, except that he’s a billionaire. The Housens haven’t followed the case or put two-and-two together, so they don’t know I’m the nanny with whom my former employer had “special relations .”

I’ve been working there a month and like it fine, but I miss Becca and Price. Caring for a baby is lovely, but I really miss sitting with the Things and coloring or singing with them or building whole cities out of wooden blocks. I miss their hugs and their “Paisy! Paisy !”

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