Page 114 of Winning Brynn

I don’t know why, but that statement makes me angry.

Shoving the saucepan of leftovers off the stove so it doesn’t burn, I march around the island toward her, stopping just short of her knees and looming over her with fire in my eyes. I grip her chin and tilt it up so she’s forced to look at me.Reallylook at me. Not just stare through me like I’m not even fucking here.

“Of course it’s about what you want.”

“No.” She bats my hand away from her face with a sharp scowl. “It’s about what’s best for you. For Salem and Issy too. It’s about what’s best for yourfamily.” She spits the last word like it burns her tongue to say it.

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you thatyouare part of this family?” I’m speaking too loudly—yelling, really, I know I am—but I can’t hold myself back. She needs to hear this. She needs to understand. “You are more a part of this family than Isabella will ever be.”

Her entire face collapses.

Her eyes fill with tears so instantly it’s as if she’s spent the last four days trying to hold them back, and my words have finally given them the go ahead to explode down her cheeks.

She shakes her head and speaks with a strangled voice, “No, Leo, I’m just the nanny.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and look to the heavens. What doesn’t she understand about what I’m saying? Why doesn’t she fucking believe me?“ Okay, fine. You’re fired.”

“What?”

“You’re fired.”

I don’t even blink. I just stare her down with the force of a million stars combusting simultaneously, willing her to realize how ridiculous she’s being, willing her to understand everything I’ve been trying to tell her for weeks.

That I’ve fallen fucking ass over tit in love with her.

That I want to keep her forever.

“From this moment on, you are hereby relieved of your duties. Your contract is terminated. You are no longer Salem’s nanny, effective immediately.”

If heartbreak had a face, it would be Brynn at this moment.

Her crestfallen, grief-stricken expression is one I will never be able to forget, no matter how hard I’ll try.

But it’s necessary.

It’sproof.

Proof that she isn’t—has never been—"just the nanny."

"Then who will look after Salem?" she asks through her sobs. “Issy?” The last word is hissed, like the possibility of Issy taking Brynn’s place is too much for her to bear.

“God no.” I shake my head vehemently.

“Then who?”

I shrug as if it doesn’t really matter. It does, of course, but we’ll get to that.

“I don’t understand,” she whispers.

Reaching back for her face, I cup her cheek in my hand, capturing her tears with my thumb and brushing them away. “How much of the money you've earned from being Salem’s nanny have you spent on yourself?”

She frowns like she doesn’t understand the question. “I don’t know.”

I thought she’d say that, so I answer for her. “Not a cent.”

All the packages of clothes she’s ordered for Salem, all the toys, the baby equipment that she’s bought because she’s either replacing old things or has found something else we might need, I’ve been keeping my eye on all of it.

From the very beginning, she has spent more money on my daughter than I’ve paid her for watching her.

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