Page 60 of The Billionaire's Temporary Governess (French Conquests 2)

“Keep calling him grandpapa,” Alex advised gently. “It will be easier for you.”

“Everybody says he was a mean and nasty person! Am I going to grow up mean like him? Because Naisha taught me about genetics!”

“Well,” Alex said reasonably. “Liam and I both have his genes, too. Are we mean and nasty?”

“Um, uh-uh.”

“Then why should you be? Why should you grow up to be anything other than the ray of sunshine you always were? It’s the heart and soul that makes the person, no?”

She thought about it for a moment, a very long moment. “Yes. I guess.” Then something seemed to come to her. “What did grandmaman say? Was she mad at grandpapa? Did it hurt her?”

William answered very slowly and carefully, making sure she understood. “He was mean to her, too, but I don’t think your grandmother has any idea what her husband did.”

Her eyes widened with concern. “Do we have to tell her?”

“I think she deserves to know, but I’ll leave it up to us to find the right time, okay?”

When she smiled at him, he thought his heart would burst with love for this gentle soul. As she settled into his arms, Alex got up and quietly left the room, nodding encouragingly at him.

William smiled down at the crown of her head as she began to drowse. Everything in his life was so perfect.

A month is way too long to go without making love, Naisha thought, especially when the guy is as hot and as skilled at lovemaking as William! But long after the temporary hospital had been dismantled, and her in-house doctor and nurse had gone home, William had gently declined her advances, saying the last thing he wanted was to aggravate her injury and thereby hurt his baby.

True, it was still a bit sore. It was, after all, a bullet wound. But she wanted him so badly that she pulled out every seduction trick in her arsenal, including spending the rest of her bedrest in sexy teddies and negligees. But he still wouldn’t budge. They had to settle for teenage-level make out sessions that got them so hot, but never went any further.

Now, he had finally relented, and they’d spent the morning making slow, delicious love in the huge bed in the master bedroom. William, with all the power and wealth at his disposal, had completely stripped down and redecorated it to Naisha’s taste in record time, pending their marriage.

Having showered and dressed, they lounged on the huge, new leather sofa, with William’s arm around her shoulder, looking at the photo of themselves in the local paper, in an article announcing their engagement. “You look very handsome here,” she commented.

“I always look very handsome,” he reminded her, straight-faced.

She prodded him in the ribs with her elbow. “I’m going to have to take you down a peg or two.”

He scoffed. “Oh, please, you know you love me that way.”

She stroked the stubble on his cheek lovingly. “Yes, I guess I do.”

Before she could kiss him and quite possibly initiate another round of fabulous sex, Hurricane Willa blew into the room. “You guys are in the paper!” She brandished her own copy overhead. They’d told her about their engagement with bated breath, and the little firecracker had accepted Naisha becoming her stepmother on the condition that she continued to be her governess. Naisha had happily accepted, proud that the youngster enjoyed having her as a teacher.

“What did I tell you about knocking, kid?” William asked.

“Oh, sorry.” She looked contrite for the merest millisecond, and then repeated, “You’re in the payyyperrr! This is so exciting! I love weddings. And parties. And cake. And I’m going to get to pick the music,oui?”

“You get to pick some of the music,” Naisha reminded her. “Not all. Otherwise we’ll be dancing to K-Pop all night.”

“I would not pick only K-Pop,” she responded with great dignity. “I’d let you guys have some old-people music, too.”

“So grateful,” William murmured.

Willa plopped down onto the couch next to them, bouncing on it experimentally. “I like your new couch, but it’s not as nice as mine!”

Willa, of course, had insisted that if Naisha and her father were getting a room makeover, she would have one, too. They’d already begun converting the adjoining bedroom into a nursery and chose a bedroom closer to theirs for her. The couch Willa had chosen was a skull-jarring combination of electric purple and black, which clashed horrendously with the nightmare combo of watermelon pink and apple green paint on her walls. Willa was over the moon with her first attempt at interior design, and all Naisha and William could do was exchange glances, button their lips, and give her free rein. The strategy must have worked, because the sleepover girls had been back last weekend to play with their new friend, and the squeals of sheer delight had echoed through the suite.

Preteens, right?

Willa reached out and patted Naisha’s flat stomach. “Why aren’t you getting fat yet? When are you going to start looking like tante Jacyn did? I want to see your bump!”

“I’m still early in my second trimester,” Naisha reminded her. “It’s going to take a while.”

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