Page 18 of Mr. Wolfe's Nanny

He studies me for several uncomfortable beats. Should I start explaining? I’m not sure what to say. “What’s your game, Ms. Quinn?”

“Game?” I ask, confused.

“Your angle. Your scheme.” I frown. “When did you figure out who I was? And what do you hope to gain by this arrangement?”

“I… nothing.”

“We fucked. It was consensual. That’s it. You don’t have anything to hold over me.”

I cringe at his callous phrasing. “I’m not holding anything over you. I just needed a job. I didn’t-”

“A job? Sure.” He leans forward, dark blue eyes stormy. “A month I’m away and here you are waiting for my return.”

“It wasn’t planned.”

“Really? You’ve already got my kids wrapped around your little finger. I assume my mother is ignorant of how we really met. How’d you score an interview? I saw your application. You’ve got the education degree but zero experience as a nanny.”

“I’m not sure why your mother chose me for an interview except based on my teaching experience. My sister is a nanny and I think her employer might’ve put a good word in. I was grateful for the opportunity-”

“You seized the opportunity without a doubt.”

His smugness sparks my temper. Maybe he’s lucky I’m not holding a drink. “None of this was planned. I had no idea who you were when your mother hired me.”

He scoffs. “Am I supposed to believe that?”

“You can believe it or not. It’s the truth,” I snap, crossing my arms over my chest. “I came here to be your children’s nanny but I didn’t know their father would be… ”

“What? A widower? A billionaire? I’m sure you were kicking yourself for running out that night after you figured it out.”

“No, I didn’t know their father would be a dick who’d throw a past indiscretion in my face over a coincidence!” His jaw clenches. I’ve fucked up now. “I meant…”

“I understood you perfectly, Ms. Quinn. Past indiscretion,” he mutters darkly before his eyes rake over me again. “So, I’m supposed to believe you had no idea who I was until earlier today? Forgive me but you didn’t appear surprised to see me.”

“I wasn’t,” I whisper, my voice growing faint. I fist my hands in the hem of my shirt. My chest and shoulders have started to ache. The oxygen has seeped out of the room.Please, not now. “I saw your photograph the day I moved in.”

He chuckles but it’s as far from amused as can be. “How convenient. And yet, you didn’t say a word. You waited to ambush me in my own home with my mother and daughter in the room.”

He’s so bitter, so angry. I can’t exactly blame him. It does look intentional. I should’ve said something sooner. He’s definitely going to fire me. Where will I go? What about Jill and Ryder?

A long shaky breath and the walls are closing in. I feel tears welling in my eyes, spilling down my cheeks, hot and fast. “Please, I didn’t know they were your kids when I applied. I didn’t know your name. I just needed the job. I’ll stay out of your way. Just don’t…”

If anything, he looks angrier as he coolly sips his drink. “I’ll have you know I despise grown women who use crocodile tears to manipulate men, Ms. Quinn.”

“I’m not… I’m not…”

And it’s all I can say before it hits with crushing force, sucking every ounce of strength from my body and mind. I curl up in the leather chair and start to shake all over. A broken sob tears its way past my lips against my will. I’m drowning. He’ll sit there and watch me. Maybe he’ll finish his drink while he does.

“Ms. Quinn?”

I imagine he’s rising to his feet but the room turns dark and I’m lost.

The night is cold. Inside my head, the wolves howl, the snow falls and my father’s death rattle echoes in the crushed cabin of our SUV while my mother whispers my name for the last time.

The hydraulic power cutters tear through steel with a jarring screech and strong hands pull me from the wreckage but my mind doesn’t accept it. I’ll never leave this space. Every night they die while I watch, helpless and alone.

“Quinn, look at me.” He shakes me. Not roughly, just enough. “Quinn, where’d you go, sweetheart? Breathe for me, okay?”

I gasp and scramble upright as he breaks into my memories like a giant ripping weeds out by the roots. I grip his forearms, find a strange comfort in the muscle and sinew that’s alive and warm and well beneath.

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