Page 28 of The Billionaire & the Nanny: Part 4

Kase

A week later,I’m back to work and highly impressed with myself for staying away from Alana this long. It took determination and a healthy dose of masturbation, but it worked. But I’d by lying if I said those jack-off sessions weren’t filled with memories of her open mouth, her sexy hazel eyes looking up at me, and that fine line of spit hanging off her chin as she choked down my cock.

Holy shit.

Then, I get a call. Though I haven’t talked to him in a few weeks, my “father-in-law,” Bert Roper, the man for whom Evie and I got fake-married so he wouldn’t judge her for having a baby out of wedlock, wants to come and see us. “Miss the little tyke,” he says about Liam, but I know he really wants to see the new nanny and make sure she’s purebred and worth the money.

I’m nervous for several reasons.

One, because Alana’s nannying skills are so not worth the money I’m paying her. But for some reason, I keep her around. I never would’ve put up with an ineffective employee this long, but I also sympathize. She’s not a nanny at all—she’s in finance, trying to earn some cash while waiting for the market to stabilize and start hiring again. Also, Liam seems to be starting to like her, or at the very least tolerate her, and this kid is a lot like me (which is interesting) in that he doesn’t do well with change. If I were to hire a new nanny now, it would put him back to square one.

I’m also nervous because Bert Roper is an old school dinosaur who rules his family and ad agency with an iron fist. Besides the fact he never would’ve allowed Evie to take over the family business if he’d discovered she’d had a child without marrying the father, he’s also a staunch perfectionist. Every time I see the man, I feel the pressure to put everything in order for his visit. I live in constant fear that he’s going to find out the truth about everything—about Liam having another father, about the fake marriage to his daughter, and the fact that I don’t have legal rights to anything of Evie’s.

He loves me, but if he were to ever find out, I could end up ruined in business. And I wouldn’t put it past him to make sure I wind up dead either.

It’s five minutes ‘til four o’clock. I sit in my office trying to keep busy and not think about how every Bert Roper visit skates the edge of possible disaster. Alana walks down the hall, holding Liam, and glances into my office. Every look of hers brings erotic flashbacks to my mind. “Alana, could you change Liam into something nicer?”

She pauses, looks at the cotton onesie the baby is wearing. “This is nice.”

I sigh. Why can’t she just do what I ask of her? It’s like she’s got a massive iceberg on her shoulder that doesn’t allow herself to be ordered. “It’s fine, but my father-in-law is…” I don’t have to explain anything to her. In fact, the less she knows about me and my life, the better. “Just please change him into something evocative of a wealthy man’s child. Trust me on this.”

Alana smirks. “Fine.” I hear an audible sigh down the hall.

Two minutes until Roper’s supposed to arrive. Alana has returned holding Liam in what could be a baptismal outfit. I have no idea who gave Evie this piece of work, but he looks like a girl in a cream dress. “Is that supposed to be better?” I check the time. One minute ‘til four.

“I’m sorry,” she says, full of attitude. “Why don’t you tell me exactly which outfit you want him to wear, so I can be sure it pleases you?”

This woman and her mouth. The things I can do to it. The ways I can tame her. I have to admit, I think I like the fact that she doesn’t fawn all over every little thing I say like the ladies at the office. In short—Alana couldn’t give a rat’s ass.

I get up and wipe a speck of dust from my desk. “Because I would like for you, a grown woman with a job in childcare, to take the bull by the horns and make my request a reality, not be given every little instruction as though you were two years old.” My stomach’s in knots.

Alana glares.

Ugh, I fucking hate getting to this point with her, but she makes it so difficult.

“You know, Kase, I don’t appreciate being harassed like this,” she finally says, adjusting Liam on her hip. “Not by you, not by anyone.”

I stop a foot away from her and stare into her eyes. There’s flecks of green and brown and gold in them. There’s also heat and passion and spunk. Speaking of spunk… “Funny, I thought you liked being harassed.” I can’t help it and swipe my finger along her jawline.

Alana takes a shallow breath, presses her lips together in what looks like an effort to control her feelings, and walks off. “Can you tell me who this man is that’s coming to visit?”

“Bert Roper.”

“Wow. Thanks for elaborating, Kase.”

“He’s just…a friend, Alana. You don’t need to know anything else. And when did we stop addressing each other formally? You should be Miss Frasier, and I should be Mr. Hardwin, so make sure it stays that way, especially with Mr. Roper here, or he’ll wonder.”

“Wonder what?” She pauses at the end of the hall. Both she and Liam stare at me.

The doorbell rings. Fuck, the old man’s here. The sooner I get this visit over with, the better. When I open the door, I gasp quietly to myself. He’s looking older and more haggard than the last time I saw him, and that was only four weeks ago. “Hello, Kase. Where’s my grandson?”

I plaster on a fake smile. “Just your grandson, huh? No love for me?” I avoid using the word son-in-law, because it’s just not true. I hold out my arms.

Roper gets wheeled in by his nurse, Nettie, who’s been with him for the last ten years or so. Nettie is nice enough to give me a hug. “Poor Kase,” she whispers and pats me on the back then rolls in the old man all the way through the foyer, down the hall, and into the living room.

I check everything, as I walk behind them, making sure the house is impeccable and that there’s no baby toys, milk bottles, or plastic sippy cups on any of Evie’s teak furniture. “The house looks messier than normal,” Roper still manages to say.

I manage an easygoing laugh. “Well, there is a six-and-a-half month old living here. Speaking of which…” Moving past the wheelchair containing his oxygen tank and backpack full of life-sustaining supplies, I stretch my neck into the other hall to look for Alana. I wish she would’ve been standing here ready to receive us. “Miss Frasier? Mr. Roper’s here. Won’t you bring the baby out to see him, please?”

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