Page 20 of Nanny and the Beast

There’s a photograph of his mother on the mantel. That’s what he comes here for.

I remove my suit jacket and drape it over his small form before lowering myself to the ground, my eyes fixed on the photograph of my sister.

“What am I supposed to do, Sera?” I whisper.

The only reply I get is the crackle of the fire.

“Emma is the only one the kids took a liking to,” I say. “But she’s…very distracting. And mouthy. Not to mention, there’s something about her that I don’t trust.”

James shifts in his sleep.

One of his small hands brushes against my neck. His fingers remain pressed against my skin.

I freeze.

I tell myself that it’s just my nephew. But the panic inside me builds and builds. It mocks me, reminding me that broken people can’t raise healthy children.

I can’t breathe until I move away from his touch.

I glance back at his sleeping face. His long, dark lashes are fanned out over his rosy cheeks. His small shoulder rises and falls softly.

I’m all he has in this world, yet I still can’t get myself to hold him.

I notice that he’s frowning, even in his sleep.

He deserves so much more than I can ever give him.

I know what I need to do. Before I can talk myself out of it, I type out the message on my phone.

Let Emma Turner know that she starts on Monday.

Victoria reads the message and replies right away.

I thought you didn’t want her?

I changed my mind. The kids took a liking to her.

I wish you told me this sooner.

She’s no longer interested in the job.

Why not?

I’ll find someone else for you.

I feel a knot forming between my shoulder blades. I don’t want to look at any more resumés or go through another interview process. I looked through her file after she left, and it’s obvious that she’s a good candidate for the position. She was a straight-A student with stellar recommendation letters from her past employers.

Instead of texting her back, I call Victoria.

She picks up with a sigh. I can hear soft music in the background, telling me she’s still at the club.

“Good evening, Mr. Sinclair,” Victoria says.

“I’m sorry for calling so late,” I say.

“No, you’re not,” she says. “What can I do for you?”

“Is there a reason Miss Turner is no longer interested in the job?” I ask.

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