Page 5 of Hired For the Billionaire's Secret Son

Ollie wasn’t that interested in any of the above. She wasn’t an accountant; the thought made her break out in hives. Her parents had a super-strong, amazing marriage, the type of marriage everyone aspired to. She wanted what they had but modern life, modern people, didn’t manage marriages like that any more. That had been proved to her by her ex-fiancé, who’d had the emotional depth of a dirty puddle and the inability to keep his fly zipped, and she refused to settle for less than her parents had. As for having children, well, she’d had Becca, and she knew what it was like to love and then lose a kid.

No, she wasn’t interested in being dismissed, ignored and cheated on again and she never wanted to be as emotionally involved with a child as she’d been with Becca. It hurt too much. She’d rather live alone, be alone, loving from a distance.

‘You’re right; I don’t particularly want to go back to London early. I’d have to live with them while I look for a flat and I’d be pressurised to start work early. A vacation will take a chunk out of my savings. Do you have a couple of teenagers who need looking after for the summer?’

‘Most parents with any sense have made their arrangements already, Ollie,’ Sabine told her.

Yes, she knew that it was a bit late in the day to pick up last-minute work. ‘I know; I just didn’t expect my assignment to finish early.’

Now that she was faced with going home, she wasn’t ready and really didn’t want to do it. Spending two months in Goa doing nothing was rapidly becoming an attractive option.

Ollie heard the tap of Sabine’s nails against her keyboard. ‘A request did come in yesterday afternoon. A single father in Denmark needs a nanny for a nine-month-old baby. I told him that finding a permanent nanny will take some time, but he’s so desperate he’ll take anyone. I didn’t think of you because, a, you were heading home, b, you were already committed in Berlin and, c, you prefer to work with older children.’

She didn’t dislike babies—they were cute enough—but older kids, toddlers and up, were so much more fun. ‘Tell me more about him,’ Ollie said, sitting on the edge of her bed. She preferred to work for a couple or single mums. The one single dad she’d worked for at the start of her career had seemed to think that she’d provide additional services as well as looking after his two very precocious children. She’d reported him to Sabine, and he was no longer able to access nannies from Sabine’s agency. That kind of behaviour was not tolerated by her.

‘He’s a yacht designer and builder and, unexpectedly, has gained custody of his nine-month-old son,’ Sabine explained. ‘He wants someone to help teach him how to care for a baby—he has zero experience—and we’ve also been tasked with finding him a long-term nanny.’

Most parents prepared themselves for the arrival of a baby, but this father hadn’t. Why not? Colour her intrigued.

‘And you say he’s in Copenhagen?’ Copenhagen in summer was supposedly gorgeous and she’d never spent any length of time in the city. It might be...interesting.

‘He’s offering above the normal rate, as he needs someone to help with the baby and show him what to do. He readily admits to not having a clue,’ Sabine stated.

‘I’m interested in the job, Sabine. I’m not crazy that it’s a single dad, but I’m not twenty-two any more, and I could shut down any unwanted attention a lot quicker, and with more confidence, if it occurred.’

‘Are you sure?’ Sabine asked.

She was very sure that she wasn’t ready to go back to London yet. ‘Sure-ish,’ she said. ‘Send him my CV and see if he’s interested.’

If he was, then they could do a video-conference call. ‘But he’d have to make up his mind fairly quickly because I have to be out of this place the day after tomorrow.’

‘You could always come to Paris and stay with me for a bit,’ Sabine offered.

She could. But she knew that, if this job didn’t pan out, then it was the universe’s way of telling her that she needed to go home and face the music.

‘I will call him and see what he says,’ Sabine told her. ‘I’ll send you his file too.’

‘That sounds like a plan,’ Ollie agreed. ‘Speak soon, yeah?’

Forty-five minutes later, before she’d had time to read the man’s file, Ollie heard back from Sabine. She had an interview in Copenhagen the day after next, and she was to come prepared to start work immediately. If she wasn’t successful in securing the position—and that wasn’t likely, because this Bo Sørenson was desperate—he’d pay for her flight to any European destination. He was impressed by her references, he needed her and had offered to pay double her usual rate to secure her services to look after his son.

For Ollie, it was an offer she couldn’t refuse. And a way to delay the inevitable.

Copenhagen in summer was a city filled with sunshine, busy with tourists and everyone seemed to be on a bike. As she made her way through the city, Ollie took in the juxtaposition between the grand old buildings and the sleek lines of modern architecture, the old and new cohabiting happily together.

It was bursting with cafés, shops, great-looking people and some of the best restaurants in the world. Honestly, there were worst places to be, and unless her new boss turned out to be a total prat this would be where she would stay for the next two months. How exciting!

She had plans to discover what made this city tick on her off days, which were written into her contract. She wanted to take a boat tour and see the city from the water, hire a bicycle, meander down the side streets or take a walking tour, sampling Danish pastries andsmørrebrød—an apparently delicious open sandwich—along the way. She’d heard about Reffen, an organic street-food market and urban area that had a reputation for innovation and sustainability and she wanted to explore that part of the city.

Oh, she wanted to explore it all—the sights, sounds, smells and food. So far, the city was looking good.

She hoped her new boss would be good too.

Ollie glanced down at her phone and re-read the message she’d received from Sabine fifteen minutes ago. She’d spoken with Mr Sørenson this morning and, despite him having met Matheo, the Danish Social Services were saying that Matheo would only be moved from his foster family into his father’s care when she was in situ. Her eyebrows had raised when she’d realised that this was at Mr Sørenson’s request. Was he so inexperienced that he couldn’t look after a baby for a night, or did he only have his son’s best interests at heart? Or both?

Time would tell.

Ollie watched as her taxi driver negotiated the streets of the city, her eyebrows raising when he whistled his appreciation as the car crawled down what he told her was one of the most expensive streets in the city. He parked at the end of the street, in front of a low concrete wall. A ladder was attached to the concrete wall, similar to ones used in public swimming pools, and Ollie realised that it was an easy way to get to the beach below the wall. In front of her was what she thought was the Øresund Strait, also known as The Sound, separating the city from the Swedish town of Malmo. It looked like a bolt of crushed, aqua velvet, embellished with Swarovski crystals. It was completely amazing.

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