Page 6 of Protecting My Nanny

"I'm not sure, Nicole," Shane tells me. "He's just lost his parents, this is a new area, and the people here can be... usey..."

"Usey?" I question, glaring at him across the black wood desk of his home office, where Shane sits nestled deep in his black leather recliner.

"I'm not exactly just some banker," he responds. "Not to brag or put anyone else down, but I am a bit known. And people tend to want to attach themselves to me and those around me, sometimes not wholeheartedly."

"Right," I say. "So you don't want him to go out because... you think... children will know he's your nephew and take advantage of him?"

"Not just children, but their parents. Opportunists. I just want him to have friends who are truly friends. I could take him out to the property upstate, where there are plenty of gardens, and I could even arrange for some children to come and play with him, ones we can trust."

"You're not getting this," I respond. "He wants to go out and make friends, not have some arranged for him. He needs to explore the world again, to not be afraid of going out and meeting people. That means trusting them."

"I just feel it's too soon," he responds. "He's still fragile, and people will take advantage of that. I just..."

"You just hired me to help with these kinds of things, right? Do you think I'd let that happen?"

He goes silent, seemingly pondering my proposal.

"He isn't a business, Shane. There is no corporate approach you can use to help him, and you can't micromanage his life from your office across town."

I see his face grow hard; he doesn't like that.Too much, Nicole,I tell myself.

"He needs you to trust me and trust him," I add. "If you really want him to get better, to get on with his life, you need to start letting him live it again."

Shane exhales deeply, then looks me in the eyes. "Fine," he says. "You're right. I trust him and you. I give you full authority on this."

I smile. "Thank you, Shane," I say in my most sincere voice.

"Sure," he responds.

"Well, on another note, you'll be joining us for dinner, right?" I ask.

"Yeah, I think I can work that out," he responds. "But... if you'll excuse me, I need to take a call."

I give him a nod and turn to leave. As I walk out, I stop myself in the doorway and turn to look back at him. "You should try getting out a bit yourself," I say.

He looks at me but doesn't respond. I leave, closing the door behind me.

I find him on my mind again as I walk toward my bedroom. Getting through to him never seems to get easier. There is something there, I think. Something other than his sister or Jaime, something that shuts him down each time I try to dig deeper. A shame—his sharp frame and gorgeous features are all blurred by that cold and uncaring demeanor he carries. Still, I find myself wanting to touch him each time he's around.

Shane misses dinner again that night—another work call. He paces around the living room as I chat with Jaime about our upcoming park adventure. No matter how hard I try, I can't stop looking at him.

Chapter 3

Shane

At times, I feel like Nicole is constantly observing my every move. She keeps track of when I come and go and what I do during those times. She expects me to spend time with Jaime when I'm at home, which is understandable. However, she has her own ideas of how much time and how often we should interact. She asks me to join her and Jaime if I'm home for a meal, and I usually agree. But I am a busy man, and my schedule is never predictable, no matter how hard Kristen tries. Meetings and clients span different time zones and hold various work hours. I've got 12 branches to oversee, an R&D division in need of three new supervisors, and a sales team responsible for my entire eastern division, which I've had to silently begin investigating for potential theft. Time with Jaime is vital, but mybusiness is just as crucial to his livelihood as being a parental figure. Besides, that's what I hired Nicole for.

When Vivian was around, I had my Saturdays free. She took Jaime for walks around the estate, and made sure he ate his food and finished his homework, allowing me one day of respite from the busy week. Nicole has other things in mind.

Sometimes, as I walk down the hall, I hear her soft voice through the partially closed door of Jaime's room. She's reading to him, her tone animated and engaging. For a moment, I pause, listening to the story and the occasional giggle from Jaime. It tugs at something deep inside me—a mixture of gratitude and a pang of guilt. I know I should be the one reading to him, but there's always something pulling me away.

After my morning shower, I make my way down the hall from my master bedroom on the second floor, passing by Jaime's and Nicole's neighboring rooms. Upon her moving in, I offered her the larger room with the private bathroom, but she refused, insisting on being as close to Jaime's room as possible.

I'm expected to at least stop in for breakfast and ask Jaime about his week—another agreeable routine I've become accustomed to. I head downstairs and cross the soft black and white Persian rug of the main hall, enjoying the way it caresses my feet as I head into the kitchen. I look at the wall clock over the kitchen entrance. It is 8:30, and it is just on time. As I enter, I find Jaime and Nicole sitting opposite each other at the long dining table, empty plates in front of them. A spread of bacon, pancakes, eggs, sausages, fruits, and fresh-baked buttermilk biscuits sits beforethem. There is a third place set up at the head of the table, just in front of them.

"Don't look so surprised," Nicole says. "I didn't cook this." She smiles, and instinctively, I do the same in return. "It's from Ralph's. Jaime said he wanted to do something special for his mom's birthday, and I told him you had said the same."

That was a lie. I certainly had told Nicole no such thing. I had forgotten it was today.

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