Page 18 of Meeting the Billionaire Boss

‘Yes, Joe.’

‘I had fun today.’

‘So did I, sweetheart.’

‘Charlie has a mummy.’

I try to hide my shock at his words. I didn’t see this coming.

‘He does.’ I don’t sayand she’s horribleeven though the words are on the tip of my tongue.

‘I used to have a mummy.’

My throat closes over. ‘Yes.’ Nodding, I slide my arm around his shoulders.

‘She’s in heaven now. Daddy said she still loves us.’

‘Of course she does.’ I bite the inside of my cheek to stay in control.Poor baby.

‘You won’t go to heaven, will you?’ His eyes are so earnest as he peers up at me that I have to bite harder on my cheek. ‘I’d miss you.’

‘I won’t go to heaven. Not for a long time.’

He taps the book. ‘You can read now.’

And just like that, the conversation is over and he has moved on. But it’s a reminder that he thinks about these things and needs to feel secure.

When I start to read, he joins in with the bits he knows, and soon I feel him relax against me, his head resting against my arm. Peering down at him, I see that his eyes have closed. I close the book quietly then set in on the nightstand and slide him down so his head rests on the pillow.

I gently tuck the covers around him then sit back down again to wait for ten minutes in case he stirs. His blond hair is soft and shiny from the baby shampoo I used to wash it and his skin glows with health and vitality. He is four, almost five, in that stage between toddler and child. His wrists have lost the baby chubbiness but his cheeks still carry some of it and I can see how he would have looked as a baby. He is the sweetest child and we grow closer every day. I am, in fact, becoming worried that I’m growing too fond of him. Five weeks is a long time in the life of a child and he’s already accepted me. I am the person he searches for in the morning, the one he calls for at night if he’s had a bad dream. My contract states that I will be here until January rolls in, and I worry that in that time, we will be too attached. And yet, what can I do? I can hardly hold back from him, retain a professional air. He’s four and he needs people around who’ll love and nurture him.

With these thoughts swirling around my brain, I lean against the headboard and close my eyes. They are burning now with exhaustion so closing them offers me significant relief. A blissful warmth envelops me and I enjoy the sensation of floating as I drift away.

Chapter20

Edward

The open bottle of Pinot Gris sits on the kitchen table, beads of condensation forming on the glass. I showered when we got in and put on some jersey shorts and an old T-shirt. Apart from Hattie’s nonsense, we had a good day and I feel sad that she tainted it for Ava and for me. Ava didn’t deserve that at all and I’m keen to try to repair the damage. I was hoping that some wine and perhaps a movie of her choice would make up for what happened at the party, but Ava took Joe to bed an hour ago and hasn’t resurfaced. I was going to go in and say goodnight, but I could hear her reading him a story and I didn’t want to disturb them. But now, I’d better go and check that he’s not making her read twenty stories because he’s quite good at manipulating people who care about him. I’ve fallen victim tojust one more story, Daddy, pleasemore than once.

Upstairs, I stop in the doorway of Joe’s bedroom. The sight before me takes my breath away.

Joe is tucked into bed and Ava is next to him. They are both fast asleep. Ava is curled up on her side facing Joe and he’s mirroring her as if they fell asleep whispering to each other. Ava’s hair has come out of its ponytail, and it tumbles down over the pillow. In sleep, all self-consciousness has fallen away from her face, her dark lashes flutter on her cheeks and she is utterly beautiful.

Something inside me shifts and it makes me grip the doorframe.

What the hell is happening to me?

I barely know this woman and yet, what I do know of her, I like. We had fun today. She made me laugh. Not just surface laughter but deep belly laughs. The heaviness I’ve carried around with me slipped away as we went from ride to ride, as I watched her with my son, caring for him, nurturing him in the way a mother would do. Ava isn’t just professional with Joe, she’s like Cynthia is with him. She genuinely cares and that’s all I can ask for in the person who looks after my child.

I’m torn between wishing that I could spend the evening with Ava and not wanting to disturb her, but she looks so tranquil that it seems unfair to wake her now. So I take the soft blanket from Joe’s chair and gently place it over Ava, tuck it around her shoulders. This close, I can smell her perfume, some light apple scent that mingles with her coconut conditioner. It makes me imagine burying my face in her hair and breathing her in, holding her against me in the way I’ve imagined doing recently. She shifts slightly and I step back, not wanting to startle her if she wakes and finds me gazing at her like some kind of weirdo.

Am I a weirdo staring at the sleeping nanny like this? It could be seen that way but there’s something going on here and it’s confusing the hell out of me. Ava is… getting to me.

Dragging myself away is hard but I can’t overstep the line. I stand in the doorway for a moment, taking a mental snapshot of my son and Ava, wanting to capture the peacefulness of the scene, and then I turn off the light and leave them in peace.

As I pad down the stairs to the kitchen and pour myself a large glass of wine, I know that I need to do something nice for Ava. But what? And then it occurs to me that it’s her birthday next week.

I know exactly what I’m going to do to show her how valued she is, how much we appreciate her and everything she’s done already. And then, perhaps, I can broach the subject of a different kind of contract because it’s becoming clear to me that Ava could be the perfect fake wife.

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