Page 28 of A Convenient Secret
She hugs the toy tight to her as I kiss her forehead.
“I want Lily to stay,” Zoya whispers before I reach the door.
So do I. So do I.
“Sweetheart.” I return and sit on her bed. “Lily has a different job. She was only helping us. She helped to find a new nanny.”
“I don’t want a new nanny. I like Lily. Even Zach likes hew, but he doesn’t want to say it.”
I sigh. “I like Lily, too, but she is not a nanny.”
“I’ll miss her.” Zoya’s eyes mist with unshed tears, and her typical pout makes its appearance. Only this time, I’m pretty sure it’s not a manipulation tactic. And as if her sadness is contagious, suddenly I’m filled with regrets.
So many fucking regrets. About Lily. About my kids. Even about Kendra.
I wrap Zoya in my arms and kiss her crown. “It’s late. Get some sleep, so we can chase pigeons tomorrow.”
“It’s Satuwday tomowow? No wowk?”
“No work tomorrow. Good night, Zoya.”
“Good night, Daddy.”
I look through the adjacent door at my sleeping son.Even Zach likes her, but he doesn’t want to say it.
Just my luck that my kids would take to the one nanny I can’t have. Goddamn Lily, with her sunshine personality, pulling people into her orbit.
By the time I get downstairs, my irritation seeps through me, and I’m ready to shove Lily out of the door and never see her again.
That determination dies a quick death when my gaze lands on her.
She sits on the armrest of the double-seater, her profile to me. She’s staring at the flickering lights of the city, my glass in her hands.
I don’t dare to move, rooted at the base of the staircase. She is completely still, as if mesmerized by the view, unaware of my presence.
I’ve been watching her through my cameras the whole week, but this genuine moment in time doesn’t compare.
She must have run her hand through her hair because it’s slicked back, showing her exquisite cheekbones. She’s not wearing glasses, which is probably why I noticed her sleepy eyes before.
With her imperfectly perfect crooked nose, her profile is arresting.
She lifts her hand and puts the glass to her lips, taking a sip from my drink. Her lips touch where mine were moments ago, and I hit a new low. I’m jealous of my own glass.
“I hope you don’t mind. It’s better than vodka.”
I startle. “Of course.”
She giggles and slides back, down across the armrest, plopping into the soft cushions of the sofa. “I don’t drink hard alcohol, and Saar and Cora got me drunk on vodka once.” She shivers. “But this is good.” She takes another sip and sighs.
The sound is soft, and has nothing to do with me. And yet my body reacts, and my cock stirs. Fuck. My. Life.
Abandoning any remains of common sense, I walk over and sit beside her. It’s a fucking two-seater, but somehow I feel indecently close. There are feet of sitting surfaces around us, and I choose to squeeze in with her here.
I take the glass from her. “You better pace yourself if you’re not used to this.”
“Fair enough, but I can see the appeal. It makes me feel lighter.”
I take a sip and savor it, hoping to feel lighter. All I feel is coconut, her warmth, and persistent heaviness.
