Page 48 of The Billionaire's Temporary Governess (French Conquests 2)

Naisha didn’t come.

He rose, determined to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering her now, and headed toward her bedroom. He felt rising dread. Was she mad at him, or was she worried? Was she getting more obnoxious texts from that jackass? Because if she was, William almost felt sorry for the guy when he was done with him.

But if that wasn’t it, then it was clear that in Naisha’s mind, William had committed some grievous sin. There was no better time than now to find out.

Not for the first time, he regretted the fact that her bedroom was just across the hallway from Willa’s. Despite the sturdy construction of the château, sound did transmit through the doors, and behind Willa’s, he could hear peals of laughter. And if he could hear them, they certainly could hear him. So he discreetly tapped on Naisha’s door, even though his instinct was to start pounding on it like a toddler who wanted in.

“Naisha,” he said softly, and then again.

Finally, he heard her at the door. “What?” she asked shortly.

Her tone surprised and hurt him. “What’s wrong? Are you upset? Scared? Did you get more texts?”

“No.”

Abrupt. Clipped. His heart sank even further. “Are you mad at me? What did I do?”

“I don’t want to talk, Liam. Go to bed.”

That did it. His ire began to rise. He wasn’t used to being spoken to like this, and he wasn’t having it. “Look, if you’re going to behave like this, at least do it to my face. Open the door.”

Silence. He was almost sure he heard her breathing.

“Open up, goddamn it!” Louder now, maybe too loud. He glanced at the door behind him, and as if Naisha was reading his thoughts, she said sarcastically, “Why don’t you just kick down the door, so all Willa’s friends can see you acting like a neanderthal?”

Putain,she was right. Even though every ounce of him wanted to start kicking at the door, he knew that to give in to the impulse was to invite disaster. And true, he had keys to every room in the château, but he’d rather die than become the kind of man who unlocked the door to a woman’s bedroom.

Defeated, he took a step back. It took great self-control to modulate his tone. “Suit yourself, mon trésor.I will go to my own bed—alone. But this isn’t over, Tomorrow, we talk.”

She didn’t say anything. He heard the sound of her footsteps walking away.

The next morning went by in a haze, with the girls dragging a trampoline out onto the lawn next to the monkey bars he’d had erected, and racing around for a couple of hours. Then they actually had the fortitude to plow through the mountain of hand-grilled burgers and fries that Yvette prepared for them. Even William was impressed, and he’d had boy days of his own. Who had the courage to stuff their faces with that much greasy food after having spent the morning hanging upside down?

He made sure to be there to give the girls a boost when they needed it, and to chide them firmly when they attempted dangerous moves. He didn’t want to be the one to explain to a parent why their child was allowed to do a triple-header onto paving stones.

Throughout the morning, Naisha was there, encouraging, even getting in on the fun but never looking his way. If her eyes happened to move unconsciously in his direction, she swiftly looked away, finding something to keep her busy.

When the games were over, and it was time for them to get changed for the trip back to their homes, they all trooped back inside, and William seized the chance.

Naisha was in the garden, picking up balls and stacking gym mats. He stalked up to her, angry even before he opened his mouth. “I need to talk to you.”

She didn’t look up. “I’m busy.”

He prized the heap of mats from her arms and dumped them on the grass. “I pay people for this stuff.”

“And one of them is me.”

“This isnotyour job.”

“I’m doing it, anyway.” Still no eye contact.

He was about to go insane. He grasped her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “Don’t do this, Naisha. If you have a problem with me, spit it out.”

Her face colored up as her barely concealed anger came shooting out of her eyes like flames. “You want me to spit it out? Okay, fine. I just realized what an idiot I’ve been. It’s funny, for someone who conducts a math class every morning, it turns out I’m crap at counting to nine!”

He squinted, completely perplexed. “Nine? What do you—?”

“Months, William! As in, counting backwards to the date of Willa’s conception. Which, I’ve realized, predates our breakup—or rather, whenyoubroke up withme.Your daughter was conceived while you and I were still dating. When you and I were still making love, every chance we got. You got Sophia pregnant while you were still swearing to me that you loved me. Making plans for us!” Her face was contorted with anguish. “You cheated on me, didn’t you, William?”

---