Page 44 of The Billionaire & the Nanny: Part 4

Kase

I could tellAlana wanted to go, but I can’t risk it. What if she tells Roper what a lovely oxygen tank he has this time? Or what if Roper suspects that more is going on between me and Alana, not just sexual relations? The old man is more perceptive than I give him credit for. I wonder if he knew all along that there was no romantic love between me and Evie.

But between me and Alana?

The truth is, I just need a break from her tonight. She means well, and she has every right to want to know what’s going on between us, especially after I nearly broke down that night on the Miami Beach hotel balcony. Another second holding her, and I would’ve lost it. As it was, the tears stung my eyes. I’d never felt that close to anyone in all my life. And I’ll never feel that close to anyone again.

I couldn’t let her feel it.

I had to push her away.

All week, I’ve kept a safe distance. I don’t ignore her like I used to, and I don’t order her around either, but I haven’t shown my feelings for her. I’m not even sure what they are, and that’s why I have to go to this business happy hour alone. I’ll just tell the old man that his grandson was feeling a little under the weather. He did ask me to bring him along, and the only way I could do that was by inviting Alana, too.

It’s better this way.

Bert Roper lives in a mansion north of Sleepy Hollow, one of those old places to rival the Rockefeller’s home at Kykuit. I take the 6 down to Grand Central then buy a train pass on the Metro North. I have a car—a beautiful Bentley—but I rarely use it. All my life, I took the trains to get around, and I still prefer it even today. Nobody looks at you when you’re on a train. Nobody wonders how much money you make. Everybody’s on their own path, getting where they need to go. The synergy of so much difference coming together for one common moment gets me every time.

By the time I’ve reached the old man’s estate, expensive cars of every make and model fill the driveway, and the house is aglow with warm yellow light. The house Evie grew up in really is an architectural gem surrounded by lush formal gardens, but now I see it so differently.

No matter how great we got along, having our industry in common, I never felt she earned her way to the top.

She knew it, too. Knew she never would’ve made it to the top on her own, having been handed a multi-billion dollar company by her rich father. She never made it a secret either, or tried to pass his successes off as her own. Because of this, I respected her. Loved her as a friend.

But there never would’ve been more between us, even if I’d allowed my walls down.

So, why the undeniable attraction with Alana?

Roper is thrilled to see me. He wheels around in his sports chair, introducing me to every single person in the room. Many I already know from the days I used to do conventions, before I rose to the top of the agency and started sending others in my stead. People are happy to see me. Many tell me how sorry they are for losing Evie, that she was a great woman who will be greatly missed.

By none more than her son.

My son.

Thanks to Alana, I’ve learned to see Liam as more than just a Keynote subject, a charge in my care, one who needs strict scheduling and monitoring. I’ve never spent as much time with him before, never seen him giggle so hard as when Alana is pulling him up by the arms on her lap then letting him fall flat onto his back. I swear, every time he laughs like that, I see his mother.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” Roper calls from his throne on wheels. “Now that we’re all gathered and present, I’d like to formally announce the transfer of Roper Industries over to my son-in-law…Kase Hardwin.”

The room fills with applause and cheers, people clap me on the back, and faces appear in my line of vision, but it’s like I’m watching it all unfold from behind a thick sheet of glass. Voices slow down, smiles stretch like melting circus clown makeup, and all I can do is nod and force myself to smile.

“Congratulations, Kase.”

“There’s no one better to follow in my daughter’s and my footsteps,” Roper assures everyone, and more glasses of champagne are passed around. A few high-ranking officials of the company don’t look too thrilled at the news, but they also don’t seem surprised. The last thing I need is people hating me for receiving something I didn’t earn.

I’m not Evie—he can’t just pass the company over to me. I never agreed to this. He only told me to think it over. Crouching low by Roper’s ear, I mutter through a smile. “Can’t we talk about this, sir? I never exactly got the chance to accept your offer.”

“Nonsense, Kase.” Roper pulls a drink off a silver platter and hands it to me. “After dinner, we’re signing the contracts.” He coughs, lights the cigar he’s kept in his pocket all evening, then coughs again. From a nearby chair, Nettie rolls her eyes at me and shakes her head.

Nobody notices Nettie, but I notice Nettie.

She could be Alana’s mother, father. She could even be Alana, sitting there, invisible to everyone else, but highlighted to me, saving money for her son’s college, silently battling breast cancer in an effort to live another day so she can see her son graduate. Mom didn’t get that chance, and part of me wishes I could, in turn, pass the business off to Nettie.

Lord knows she’s been by Roper’s side more than anyone all these years.

I don’t deserve this. I don’t half the things I’ve been given in life, especially Liam, but somehow, I made it into this family, and I shouldn’t be ungrateful. For the business, for Liam, nor for the old man’s attention. I smile at everyone. People are still clapping and giving me thumb’s up. It’s like some awful dream from which I can’t wake up.

Sometime after dinner and before the signing of the documents, I escape to the restroom to breathe in, breathe out, while staring into the mirror. Just sign the goddamn documents, Kase. You’ve always wanted to be a billionaire, and Evie would’ve wanted it. Yes, but I wanted to get there on my own, not be handed the golden chalice.

Suddenly, there’s a noise outside in the formal parlor. Someone is shouting at the top of his lungs, a man’s voice, and he’s angry. What the actual fuck? My defenses kick into gear. I run out of the bathroom, ready to take someone down if I have to. A few men are crowded around another man, and I immediately think someone’s had too much to drink. Either that, or someone’s not happy about this business arrangement.

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