Page 11 of Hired For the Billionaire's Secret Son

While all this was going on, Ollie taught him how to change a nappy, how to bathe a wriggling Mat and made him hold and walk him while he yelled his head off for who knew what. Ollie had told him that he was just feeling unsettled and a little scared, and that he had to remain calm, that babies were amazingly good at picking up on emotions. Bo had tried but, judging by how long it had taken Mat to stop crying, he knew he needed better relaxation techniques.

He took a huge sip of wine and looked at the baby monitor on the coffee table. He could hear Mat’s soft breathing and he closed his eyes and inhaled. He had a child...in his house. And would be sharing his space for at least the next eighteen to twenty years...

A couple of days ago he’d been responsible for no one but himself, and today he was raising a child. Bo sat up, placed his forearms on his knees and tried to keep the ribbons of terror threatening to wrap him up in knots. He couldn’t do this, he didn’t know how to...

‘Are you okay there? You’re looking a little green.’

Bo looked up to see Ollie standing in the doorway to the living room, her face still looking as fresh as it had when she’d first arrived this morning. Her white shirt looked a little wilted, her trousers had a streak of something on her thigh and she’d lost her hairband, so her curls fell in disarray down the sides of her heart-shaped face, but he could feel waves of energy rolling off her. He had all the energy of a wet noodle but he suspected she could carry on for a few more hours. All he wanted was his bed—and, preferably, Ollie in it.

Was he just reacting to her like this because his life had been turned inside out and because, at times like these, it was natural to look for help, for someone to share the load of what was honestly an overwhelming experience? Was he just experiencing a millennia-old biological urge?

There’s a woman, she knows what she’s doing, I’ll have her.

He was too honest with himself, about himself, to use that handy excuse for his prickly skin, the movement in his trousers or the hitch of his breath. The inconvenient truth was that Ollie would have caught his eye and interest no matter where or when he’d met her. There was something about her that made him look, look again and wonder.

She wasn’t cover-girl pretty—he’d had lovers who’d strutted the catwalks of Milan and Paris—but his eyes were constantly drawn back to her face. He liked eyes upturned at the corners, her wide smile and the hint of a dimple in her left cheek. She was a combination of sexy and sensible, practical and pretty. Ollie was efficient and unflappable and he wouldn’t have coped today—had he coped?—without her calm attitude, flashes of sly humour and pragmatism.

Bo ran his hand down his face; an employee living with him was not a good idea. He gestured to his wine glass. ‘Would you like a glass?’

Ollie wrinkled her nose. ‘I shouldn’t.’

Bo knew she was thinking about whether it was professional or not to have a glass of wine with her employer. ‘Ollie, you’ve had a long, long day. Mat is asleep. Have a glass of wine and wind down.’

She stepped into the room and nodded her thanks. Bo headed for the kitchen, found another glass, poured her some wine and handed it over. Ollie immediately kicked off her shoes and curled up in his favourite chair, her feet tucked under her bottom and her head resting against the soft leather. She sipped and sighed. Bo resumed his seat on the leather couch and stretched out his long legs, placing his hand over his mouth to cover a yawn. ‘How can I be so tired?’ he asked.

‘It’s been a life-changing day for you, and emotional tiredness is a lot more sapping than physical tiredness,’ Ollie told him, and there was a depth of authenticity in her voice that made Bo suspect that she knew of what she spoke. She met his eyes, lifted her glass in a toast and handed him a soft smile. ‘Congratulations on your new kid, Bo. He’s a cracker.’

A wave of pride washed over him and he smiled. ‘He really is,’ he admitted. ‘But, man, I didn’t realise how much work babies involved.’

‘Today was an extraordinary day. Once you are in a routine and know what you’re doing, it’ll get easier and will come more naturally to you.’

He so didn’t know what he was doing. He hoped she was right. If not, he was going to spend the next twenty years running around like a headless chicken. For someone who loved control and order, a man who enjoyed being successful and knowledgeable, it was a terrifying thought. He looked over to Ollie and took in her shocking-pink toenails, the ring on her middle toe, and her soft-looking, elegant feet. He had a hot, smart woman sitting in his living room and he was not only exhausted but they’d only discussed babies. A day or two ago, he’d been an in-demand yacht designer, melded to his work. Today he was a dad.

He rested the foot of his glass on one knee. ‘I never really interviewed you this morning,’ he said, thinking back on the day.

Ollie raised her eyebrows. ‘Are you telling me you are still deciding whether to hire me?’

Bo thought he heard a hint of tease in her voice but he was so out of the practice with being teased—if he ever had been—that he couldn’t be sure. ‘No, of course not—you’re hired.’

He caught the twitch of her lips and knew that he’d been had. It was so strange that this pint-sized person wasn’t in the least bit wary of his bark—compared to his six-four height and big build, she was a feather. ‘Does anyone intimidate you?’

She considered his question, her hair dropping way past her shoulder as she tipped her head to the side. ‘Honestly? My mum.’

Ollie waved her hand in the general direction of the bedrooms. ‘Take my organisational skills today and multiply them by a thousand and you’ll get my mum. She worked full-time as a chartered accountant, raised four boys and a girl and still managed to be a very hands-on mum. God help the world if my mum decides to ever take it in hand.’

That Ollie loved her mum was obvious, but there was a note of wistful defiance in her voice, something that suggested that she and her mum bumped heads on occasion. Choosing not to pry, as he hated it when people dug into his family situation, he asked another question. ‘You havefourbrothers?’

Ollie took another sip of her wine and nodded. ‘Four older, very bossy, very protective brothers. I’m the youngest.’

Ah. With four brothers and a strong mum, it was no wonder that he didn’t intimidate her. Actually, it was quite nice. Having people tiptoe around him was sometimes annoying, mostly unnecessary and always frustrating. Yeah, he was big, and he had a serious face, but he didn’t routinely bite people’s heads off. He demanded a certain standard from his employees, and made it known if he wasn’t happy with their performance, but he didn’t play games and he never held grudges.

‘I’m starving,’ Bo realised, looking towards the kitchen and then at his watch. It was past nine, he didn’t have the energy to cook and the last thing he wanted to do was go out to eat.Oh, wait, I can’t do that any more.

Ollie looked at her watch and smiled. ‘I ordered two pizzas—one fully loaded, one a plain Margherita. They should be here in about ten minutes.’

Ah...what?Ollie smiled at his confusion. ‘When you were trying to dry and dress Mat—not very successfully—I realised that neither of us would have the time to cook tonight. I was starving, and I presumed you would be too, so I ordered pizza. I thought it was the easiest option because everyone eats pizza.’

He was impressed by her ability to think ahead but couldn’t resist trying his hand at teasing. ‘I could be gluten-intolerant.’

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