Page 56 of Nanny for the SEALs

“What if Asher is opposed to it? You’ll just stop?”

“I don’t know, Heather…”

“You’ll let him control your life like that? It’s none of his business what we do in our free time.”

Rogan reached for me, but I moved out of his grasp. “It’s not that simple. We’re a family—Asher, Brady, and me. And you work forallof us, nannying for all three of our children. At the very least, he should know I’m sleeping with the woman who is taking care of Cora.”

“I’m still confused about this whole situation,” I argued. “You each have a child. They’re the same age. There are no mothers in the picture. And you have some sort of communal situation together. What exactly is going on? Why are your lives intertwined like this?”

Rogan looked at his watch. “That’s going to take a while to explain. And I’m late for my conference call. But I have to tell Asher. We’ll figure things out from there. I hope you understand, Heather.”

I didn’t really understand. These were grown-ass men. What Rogan and I did together had no bearing on Asher’s life, so long as I continued to nanny his daughter.

But I nodded and said, “I guess I understand.”

Rogan took me in his arms and kissed me. “I’ll take you to the hotel to get your things tonight. And maybe we can have one last night of fun before we come home.”

“If Asher signs your permission slip,” I muttered.

He cupped my chin and tilted my face up toward his. “I’m not done with you yet, Heather Hart.ThatI can promise you.”

That made me feel a little better. I smiled as he went out the front door and down the stairs.

“Miss Heather?”

I whirled to see Micah standing in the hallway. His blanket trailed behind him like a cape, and his eyes shimmered with unbroken tears.

“Micah… Did you, um, see anything?” I asked.

Micah only stared at me. “Miss Heather, I had an accident.”

I realized the front of his pants were dark. “Oh, sweetie…”

“Does this mean I lose my star for nap time?” he asked. “I didn’t mean to…”

I bent down and hugged him. “Accidents don’t count. You still get your star. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

21

Asher

“How do we look today?” Rogan asked me.

My fingers flew over the keyboard. I had four monitors arranged in a grid on my desk, each one showing different social media data for our seventy-four clients. A few keystrokes and mouse-clicks later and I had filtered out everything except Amirah Pratt’s data.

All celebrities got daily threats from fans. There was an amount of background noise on social media that was, for all intents and purposes, normal. This was the case especially for female celebrities. It was an unfortunate truth: they were constantly bombarded with abuse on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and via email.

But I had flagged a few specific threats.

“It’s getting worse,” I said.

Rogan exhaled. “Worse?”

“The threats from the man Brady visited last night have ended. But six more sprang up in his place.”

“Anything specific we should be worried about?”

I filtered the results further. My computer had access to all of Amirah Pratt’s accounts. Instant Messages, Direct Messages, emails—you name it. Everything was fed through my computer so we could identify real threats.

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