Page 19 of Hired For the Billionaire's Secret Son

She’d been engaged? Bo tugged her to the side of the room and they stood in front of eight-feet-high windows decorated with pure silk, fuchsia-coloured curtains. Pieces of incredible art dotted the walls but he only had eyes for Ollie. Nothing painted by Reuben or Vermeer could compete with the lovely woman standing next to him. ‘How long have you been unengaged?’ he asked, trying to sound casual and missing by a mile.

‘Ah, for a few years now,’ Ollie replied, her eyes not meeting his.

He caught the flash of hurt in her eyes, the twist of her lips. ‘What happened?’ he asked, confused by his curiosity. He’d never cared about his lovers’ pasts before; it had never been a factor, mostly because they’d never lasted long enough for it to be an issue. He was also in his late thirties and knew what had happened before his arrival was none of his business. But, with Ollie, he couldn’t help feeling annoyed and a little jealous.

Ollie took her time replying. ‘When I needed his support the most, when I needed him to step up and be there for me, to listen and not try to fix the situation, he couldn’t give me the support and empathy I needed.’

The sadness in her voice couldn’t be missed and Bo knew it had been caused by something other than their break-up. She’d been hurt deeply and her ex’s behaviour had compounded that hurt.

‘How long were you together?’ Bo asked, wondering why he was still asking questions, the conversational equivalent of jabbing a sore tooth with his tongue.

‘We met in our first year of university. He dropped out, joined the army and is now a captain in the Grenadiers. We had a very long-distance relationship for most of our time together and maybe that’s why it lasted longer than it should’ve. In hindsight, I don’t think we knew each other very well,’ she admitted.

‘There’s nothing like living together to get to the heart of a person very quickly,’ Bo said. ‘Take us, for instance—you’ve only been in my life and house a short time, but I know that you need three cups of coffee to wake up, that you are more patient with children than you are with adults and that you are struggling to make a decision.’

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in surprise. ‘Why would you think that?’ she asked.

She had the worst poker face in the world. ‘Eh, it might be the fact that you spend a lot of time staring off into space and you bite the inside of your cheek when you do it.’

A hit of pink flooded her face and she looked younger than her twenty-eight years. ‘Well, I’ve learned some things about you too,’ Ollie told him, lifting her chin. Oh, he enjoyed her fighting spirit, and liked that she gave as good as she got.

He leaned a shoulder into the wall, his tuxedo brushing the gilt frame of a Monet. ‘Really? Like what?’

‘That you are completely in love with Matheo and your emotions scare you. You never expected to love him this much. You thought he would slide into your life and you’d be able to keep your emotional distance.’

Well, yes. It was his turn to feel shocked, but he hoped he hid it better than Ollie did. He considered denying her words but didn’t see the point. ‘You’re right, I didn’t expect to feel so emotionally connected to him so quickly.’

‘He is your son, Bo, that’s what happens between parents and children,’ she pointed out.

Not always, he wanted to tell her. Sometimes parents had children and didn’t feel much for them. His mother didn’t love him. Then again, as the spoiled only child of a media mogul, she’d never been taught to love anybody. His father had never spent any time with him; partying and being seen had been far more important than spending time with his son.

And, at that moment, Bo made a conscious decision, a silent promise that he would never neglect his son the way his father had him. He’d never put himself, or his work, first. But wasn’t that what he was doing tonight—leaving Mat with Greta to land a client? Had he already failed his first test?

‘Good grief, you look like you’ve sucked on an ultra-bitter lemon,’ Ollie commented. ‘Whatever is the matter?’

‘I left my son to attend a ball so that I could land a client,’ Bo told her, his voice sounding a little strangled.

She nodded. ‘Yes, you did. And why is that suddenly a huge problem?’

‘I don’t want to neglect him, Olivia. Iwon’tneglect him. He has to know that he’s not second best, or an afterthought, or way down on my list of priorities.’

Ollie placed a hand on his arm, and through his tuxedo and his cotton dress shirt he felt the heat of her hand. ‘Bo, when we left Mat was asleep; he doesn’t even know that you aren’t there. And, while I firmly believe that you as his primary caregiver should spend most of your nights at home, you are still allowed a life. Kids are smart—they know when they are wanted or not—and you spending a night out of the house now and then isn’t a big deal. In fact, it’s important that you do.’

He kept his eyes on hers, his panic receding at her soothing voice. ‘Why?’

‘Because, if you don’t, you will go off your head. You’re a new dad—you were Bo before and, like any single parent, it’s not healthy to have your life completely consumed by your child.’

He took her hand and squeezed her fingers, keeping his fingers linked in hers. ‘This would be so much harder if you weren’t around, Olivia.’

‘Well, don’t get too used to me—I’ll be leaving soonish,’ she told him. He thought she’d aimed to sound crisp, but he heard a hint of sadness. Or maybe he was projecting his feelings onto her. He couldn’t imagine her leaving, and didn’t want to. She’d slid into his life and Mat’s without so much as causing a ripple and, in some ways, it felt as though she’d always been there, a part of the furniture and the fabric of the house, in the nicest way possible.

It seemed right to look up from working at his desk in the mornings to see her stumbling to the kitchen, sometimes with Mat on her hip, sometimes without, yawning as she made herself a cup of coffee and working his complicated coffee machine with practised ease even though she was still half-asleep. Watching her do yoga in the garden was a pleasure—she was hot. He often found himself laughing at the silly things she said to Mat, at her dry commentary on her yoga skills.

He’d spent a few mornings at work, at meetings he couldn’t miss, but for the first time in his life his entire focus wasn’t on his business, it was on his house and what was happening within it. He frequently wondered what Ollie and Mat were up to and resented time spent away from his son.

And his son’s nanny.

No woman had ever intrigued him as Ollie did. No one had ever made him want to scrape that superficial layer and see what lay beneath her smooth skin and within those deep-brown eyes. He wanted to know her history, what made her tick, what twists and turns she’d taken to bring her to his son and him. Why he’d lucked out on having one of the Europe’s best nannies looking after his son; the owner of the agency she worked for had been deeply serious when she’d made that claim.

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