Page 11 of Nanny for the Bossy Billionaire

Iam so ready for something to finally go my way.

Ever since I heard about Eve’s moves to kick me out of my own company, I have been able to think of nothing else. I’ve been trying to do damage control to keep her hounds at bay, but everything I’ve tried has fallen flat. I am so hopeful that I can stop this, but that doesn’t negate the fact that she has so much of a fucking head start on me.

That isexactlywhy I need today to go well. Naomi Davidson starts as Ethan’s nanny today.

I take my son’s development very seriously. It is important to me that not only is he provided with the best education money can buy, but I want him to be a good and well-rounded person as well.

Andthat’swhy I chose Naomi instead of the more qualified candidates that I interviewed.

This could either go horribly wrong or phenomenally well. Of course, I hope it’s the latter.

Most people that I have met who are in my financial and social situation often see themselves as being beyond reproach. I am not like that. I am very conscious of my fallibility. I know that I am capable of screwing up just like anyone else. That is why I know that it’s possible I have made the wrong decision where Ms. Davidson is concerned.

Whatever the case may be, I will find out soon enough.

The doorbell rings, and because I happen to be waiting in my foyer for her arrival, I let her in.

When I open the door, I am pleased to see that Naomi has done away with that ridiculous get-up she was wearing upon our first meeting.

Today, instead, she’s opted for a very lightweight, pink oversized sweater that falls off one shoulder, revealing the strap of a tank top. She is also wearing loose-fitted high-waist jeans and sneakers. Her hair, which was up when we met, has been left to tumble down to the center of her back in chestnut waves, and her face is alight with the California morning sun.

She isn’t wearing anything revealing. In fact, she’s more covered up than the last time I saw her, but she has managed to look sexy as all hell. All I want to do is run my fingers through her hair and place soft kisses along her slender neck…

Reid? Holy shit!

I quickly snap myself out of that thought at the precise moment that I feel my cock thickening in my pants.

That’s the last thing I need; a sexual harassment complaint on her first day.

“Ms. Davidson. Hello, good morning. I hope you were able to find your way here with no problem.”

She is panting slightly but smiles. I can tell it’s a nervous smile, but her face lights up with it nonetheless. “No, sir. I didn’t have any problems. You’d have to be trying to miss a place like this! The walk up the hill will take some getting used to though.”

I move out of the doorway. She walks in with a look of awe spread across her face as she takes in the interior of my mansion.

“You have an amazing home,” she says, almost breathless.

I often forget that I live in a modern-day palace. Yes, I was impressed when we moved into this Santa Fe hideaway two years ago, especially after I had it professionally decorated. But I have to say, the novelty wore off quickly.

It’s an eight bedroom, 10 1/2 bath, American craftsman mansion with mountain views. It comes with its own swimming pool, bowling alley, movie theater, and private zoo. I made sure every room in the house was decorated in the same style; modern, but cozy. It’s a mix of glass, marble, plush furniture, and rugs in homey tones.

Every room is decorated the same, except for Ethan’s bedroom and playroom, which I went all out on. Originally, they were blue, but as time has gone on, black and gray have been added to reflect his love of Batman.

So yes, even though I fail to recognize it sometimes, my home is impressive.

“Thank you,” I say. “Anyway, you should meet Ethan.”

I bellow his name. A second later, I hear apitter-patteras he comes running out of the kitchen in his pajamas.

The second my three-year-old sees that I am not alone he stops in his tracks and walks to me a little more apprehensively. When he reaches us, he’s twiddling his thumbs and stands behind my leg, peeping at Naomi.

“He’s shy at first, but usually gets over that within five minutes,” I say.

I squat so that I am on the same level with my son. “Ethan, this is Ms. Naomi Davidson. She is going to be your new nanny.”

“Stephanie,” he whines.

“Ethan, we’ve spoken about this. Stephanie is your old nanny. Naomi it’s going to be your new nanny.”

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