Page 7 of A Merry Penthouse Christmas
I don’t fit in a place like this. A baby doesn’t either, something that feels more apparent as we continue past a guest bath and through a small sitting room area beside a staircase—because again, two floors. The dining room and kitchen are equally as extravagant, also with the exterior walls being all windows, which makes this place feel huge. It is huge, but it feels practically doubled and so clean and stylish. Not at all baby proofed, just like Arik implied. Though he has a while yet before he has to worry about crawling and grabby hands.
As we pause in the all-white eat-in kitchen with its giant island to confirm that the formula has indeed cooled, I immediately start on feeding, which is absolutely why the baby was screaming. He looks even cuter happily eating, not yet able to hold the bottle himself.
“This place is incredible,” I say, in no way trying to hide my awe. “I know you run an entire corporation, but what does Anders Enterprises do exactly?”
“Think…Pretty Woman.”
“You’re a prostitute then?” I joke.
Arik snickers. “Cute.”
“Seriously though, Richard Gere’s character was a corporate, um… trader?”
“Raider, to be more precise. I’m not quite that ruthless, but the short of it is that I invest in companies, sell them or pieces of them as necessary, and I always come out ahead and make a profit. So, as you can see…” Arik is about to lead us out of the kitchen when his phone rings. “Sorry, I need to take this.” Before answering, he points upward. “Laundry, master bedroom and bath, and my office with its own private bathroom are all on thesecond floor. Nothing is off limits unless in use by me. Out this door and to the right, you will find the nursery and what will be your private bathroom, which adjoins your bedroom. I set it up this way so the nursery is closest to you.”
“Makes sense.”
Arik nods that I can continue on my own before answering his call and walking back the way we came in. “Sandra, darling, so sorry I couldn’t answer your texts yesterday. Shall I make it up to you with a late dinner?”
And he’s the usual billionaire playboy to boot. No surprise there. It’s weird that it leaves me with this sourness in my gut, which is silly. He’s rich, charming, and gorgeous. Of course he has an active social life. It’s ridiculous to feel disappointed.
On behalf of the baby! Not for me.
Definitely not for me.
I look down at the still happily eating infant in my arms, and he’s already nearly finished with his bottle. “What do you think, um… huh. I don’t know your name yet. Well, until I do, kiddo, let’s say you and I keep exploring?”
I have a feeling my jaw is going to drop when I see my bedroom.
ARIK
“Soundsperfect,Sandra.Seeyou then.”
I hang up my call, having paced while chatting with tonight’s eventual dalliance all the way back through the living roomand into the foyer, where Skylar is waiting with his tablet out, tapping impatiently on his watch.
I nod and hold up a finger as I breeze past him to the right of the foyer and the other entrance to the area with the nursery and guest room. They were both guest rooms until recently, with Beau’s also having doubled as my library. As a teacher, I didn’t think he’d mind being surrounded by books.
I find him in the nursery, settling the baby into his crib. Makes sense he’d fall asleep again after eating. I only had him a few hours before Beau’s arrival. The real test of this is yet to come.
I am about to call out when I see just how sorrowful Beau’s expression is while ensuring the baby is properly swaddled. He’s smiling, but it’s a sad, grieving smile. Which is no wonder. He expected to have this experience with his own child. With his wife and child. I can only hope nannying will be therapeutic for him.
“Everything to your liking?” I rap on the open door.
Beau startles but manages to banish the shadows marring his smile. “Everything is great. Seriously. I know it was mostly happenstance that we met, but I really appreciate this opportunity. Plus, he is the cutest!” Beau leans over the crib, and the angle hitches his T-shirt up a little. He must have taken his jacket off in his room.
I told him to dress as casually as he liked. This is a domestic position, and babies aren’t known for keeping clothes clean. The little peek of revealed skin also shows off the deep grooves of Beau’s toned hipbones. There he goes being demurely attractive again, completely unaware of how much he might affect someone.
It is a godsend he’s likely straight.
“Looks like you’re settling in well,” I speak quietly as I join him beside the crib. “Skylar has your number and will keep you informed of my schedule throughout the day should it change.If you ever need anything, go through him first. He’ll answer faster. But if you do need me, you have my number too.”
Just as I finish saying that, Beau stands straighter and pulls his buzzing phone from his pocket.
“I imagine that’s today’s schedule—and another nudge from Skylar that we need to be going. Remember that you are under no obligation to clean, other than general tidying as necessary. Gabby, my maid, comes in twice a week. Everything else with taking care of a newborn should be self-explanatory. When he is napping, feel free to do as you please.”
I look down at the now peacefully sleeping baby, my son, and lean in to press a kiss to his forehead. Everyone that mentions the intoxicating aroma of a newborn isn’t wrong. It’s like sugar cookies and warm milk at Christmas.
Beau is grinning when I stand back up.
