Page 78 of Nine Week Nanny
I run a hand through my wet hair. "Any word from Chris or his attorney going into this?"
"He's claiming he's been trying to establish a relationship, but you've prevented contact. Complete bullshit, obviously."
"He hasn't tried to contact me. He's a fucking liar."
The bathroom mirror fogs as Warren outlines strategies. I wipe a clear patch and stare at my reflection. I look like him. The same jawline. It makes me sick.
"The court wants what's best for Lennon. My hope is that is clear from this meeting.”
“Well, he has a history of being a drunk abuser who abandoned his kids.” My voice echoes off the tiles.
"Unfortunately, that isn't on the record. So we have to show. He will crumble under the accountability. Just keep that anger in check tomorrow. Chris will try to provoke you."
I close my eyes. "Got it."
After hanging up, I immediately dial Lenoir.
"Morning, boss." Her voice is crisp, efficient.
"I need you to confirm that the jet is ready for tomorrow morning. Early. We should take off by eight."
"Already confirmed this morning. I've got the car service to the airport at 6:30. And I have a driver waiting in Jacksonville who will stay with you until you're done."
This is why I pay her what I do. "Thanks."
A pause. "Anything else?"
"That's all."
I dress methodically, picking out my navy suit, white shirt, and a silk tie. Armor for battle.
The worry about the possible outcome of this ambushes me as I tighten my tie. Weeks ago, I barely knew Lennon existed. Now, the thought of handing him over to Chris makes me physically ill.
And Sloane. A heavier weight presses down with her name. I should tell her. She could probably help, coach Lennon, even coach me. But letting her in on this means showing her where I’m weakest, where I’m barely keeping it together. Vulnerability has never done me any favors.
So I frame it as protection. She doesn’t need the noise of this custody fight clouding her job. She doesn’t need the stain of Chris Carrigan creeping into her life. She’s Lennon's nanny. That’s where the line should be.
The truth is, I don’t trust myself not to lean on her if I let her see the full picture. And leaning on someone has never done anything but let me down.
I smooth my cuffs, the mask settling back into place. Time to be Pope Carrigan, the man who doesn’t flinch. The man who never loses.
I walk into the kitchen and head straight for the coffeemaker. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air as I pour myself a cup, adding a splash of cream.
My mind is still caught in the web of tomorrow's meeting with Chris and Dana.
The sound of laughter drifts through the open window. I move closer, coffee in hand, and look out at the pool area.
Sloane sits on the edge of the pool, her legs dangling in the water. Lennon and Micah are splashing each other while Angela watches from a lounge chair, bouncing a baby on her knee.
Sloane's hair is pulled back in a messy bun, tendrils escaping around her face as she laughs at something Micah says.
My body reacts instantly as memories from last night flood back. Sloane's legs wrapped around my waist. Her breath against my neck. The way she felt pressed between my body and the cool tile of the pool wall.
I shift my stance, subtly adjusting my pants. I shouldn't be thinking about this right now, but I can't help it. Every time I look at that pool, I'll see her there, with her head thrown back, and moonlight on her wet skin.
Lennon shrieks with laughter as he splashes Micah. It's the most carefree I've seen him since he arrived. Sloane catches him mid-splash and tickles his side, earning another burst of giggles.
Something stirs inside of me. It's not just desire anymore. It's something deeper, more terrifying.
