“You know, if you’d let me help you look—”
Camila scoffed, cutting him off. She knew that if she let him within an inch of those résumés, he’d choose the first girl under twenty-five. “What, so you can start screwing the nanny now that your secretary resigned?”
“She didn’t resign.” Chris’s voice turned cold. “You forced her out.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have bent her over the kitchen table,” Camila hissed.
“I’m not doing this again.” Chris sounded weary. “I’ll have my assistant swing by and pick him up within the hour. I can work from your apartment, if you’d like.”
Their custody arrangement had been the easiest part of the divorce: Jaime was to live with her and have the occasional weekend with his father. So far he hadn’t spent any time with Chris outside of the penthouse apartment they used to share, and that suited Camila.
“Fine. I don’t know what time I’ll be home.”
“I can hang around until you get there.”
“Thank you,” she said begrudgingly.
“I mean it though, Camila. This is the last time.” He hung up without giving her the chance for a comeback. Camila dropped the receiver back on the phone.
The tasks of the day loomed endlessly in front of her. Camila retrieved her son, knowing that a quick cuddle with him would soothe her.
* * *
Camila finished work well after seven, her mood sour. She stepped out of her town car onto the sidewalk outside her apartment and glanced up. The sky was clear, not a cloud in sight as the sun began its descent on the horizon. Soon the stars would twinkle brightly.
It was the perfect night for stargazing, one of Jaime’s favorite activities. Camila decided to take him out onto the balcony before putting him to bed. She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face whenever he looked up at the sky, wide-eyed and amazed, like he was seeing it for the very first time. It was the kind of childish innocence that made Camila fall in love with him all over again. Jaime made her want to be something more, something better than the cynical and jaded person she had become.
She tapped her foot impatiently as she rode the elevator up to the penthouse, ready to be home so she could wrap Jaime in her arms once more. The elevator doors opened, and she walked the few steps down the hall to her front door.
Before she slipped her key into the lock, though, Camila paused and took a deep breath.
It was a routine for her, a way to let go of the cool, calm—and some would say cold-hearted—woman who had built up a television empire and allow herself to become the mother that Jaime needed.
This time she was also preparing herself for the sight of the man she’d once agreed to spend a lifetime with, the man she could now only look at with contempt. They had been happy once, but Camila’s devotion to her work had pushed him way. Chris was unable to deal with competing for her time—an issue that was exacerbated once Jaime had been born, dividing her attention even more—and she knew he blamed her for driving him into the arms of another woman.
Sometimes Camila even agreed with him.
As she unlocked the door and pushed it open, Camila reminded herself that she didn’t need Chris or any other spouse. She had her network, she had her son, and that was enough for her.
She had barely slipped out of her coat before her beautiful boy ambushed her, bounding toward her with a grin on his face and his favorite action figure clutched in one hand.
“Mama!”
“Hi, sweetheart,” she said as she bent down to sweep him into a hug and kiss the top of his head. “Were you a good boy for your father?”
“He was perfect,” Chris called from the living room. Camila kicked off her shoes and stepped inside to find him on the couch, watching a football game on TV. He stood up and stepped toward her to ruffle Jaime’s hair. “Weren’t you, big guy?”
He looked at their son with affection. He might not have wanted Jaime but he did try with him, one of the things about him that Camila was grateful for. It was moments like this when Camila saw the man she had fallen in love with seven years ago. But then he locked eyes with her and his expression changed, hardening to become the man that Camila now knew.
The one who couldn’t stand her.
“Thank you for today,” she told him, hoping he could see that she meant it.
“No problem,” he replied, already reaching for his coat. “But—”
“—this is the last time,” Camila finished. “I know.” She vowed that it would be, that she would find a solution sooner rather than later—one that worked for them both. “You can stay for dinner, if you want.” It was a half-hearted offer because she knew he wouldn’t accept, but she asked anyway for the sake of her son, a little worried what effect their fractured relationship might have on him.
“I already ate,” he said, and Camila was relieved. “And I should really get going.”
She didn’t ask why. She didn’t want to know if he was running off to meet a woman—she might not love him anymore but she still didn’t want to think about him with anyone else.
He kissed Jaime before he left, leaving her in an apartment that felt too quiet, too empty.
Camila played with her son until it was dark enough to take him outside to look at the stars, completely in love with the pure joy on his face. Afterwards, she put him to bed, and then she sat at the breakfast bar, picking at her warmed-up food, the TV on too loud, trying to feel less alone.
Chapter 2
Emily paused on the sidewalk to glance up at the impressively tall CEBC building, the logo visible on the side of one of the upper floors. Her stomach fluttered. She swallowed hard, wracked with nerves, wondering whether she was cut out for this job after all.
How could she possibly impress a woman like Camila Evans? A woman who worked in a building like this probably lived in a penthouse where a single day’s rent was more than Emily paid in an entire year for her apartment.
She already felt like a fish out of water, and she hadn’t even set foot inside.
“Wow.” Cassie, who had agreed to walk with her so she wouldn’t get lost, stopped beside her and let out a low whistle. “I know you can see this building from nearly anywhere in the city, but it’s even more impressive up close. Are you sure you wanna work for someone in there?”
“Pretty sure.” Emily nodded, trying to convince herself. “I can do this, right?”
“Yeah, you can.” Cassie bumped her shoulder into Emily’s. “You’ve got this.”
“You think?”
“For sure. Just, you know, don’t think about how hot she is.”
“So not helping my nerves.” Emily groaned.
“Right. Sorry.” Cassie wrapped an arm around Emily’s shoulders and hugged her. “But seriously, you’ll be fine. She’d be crazy not to hire you; you’re great with kids.”
That was true. She had earned the money for a car from babysitting jobs in high school, and it had been her main source of income in college too.
“I don’t know how you do it.” Cassie scrunched up her nose, and Emily grinned—she and Cassie had very different opinions about spending time around children.
“Kids are great.”
“Kids are messy. They’re messy and they scream and I just—” Cassie shuddered. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“You work as a CSI,” Emily reminded her. “Your job literally involves dead people and analyzing bodily fluids.”
“While wearing protective clothing. And speaking of work”—Cassie glanced at her watch—“I should be heading back to the lab. You gonna be okay here?”
“I’ll be fine,” Emily assured her, though her stomach flipped whenever she remembered she was about to meet Camila Evans.
“You wanna meet for lunch? You can tell me how the interview went.”
“Yeah, sounds good,” E
mily agreed, because at least then she had something to look forward to if the interview was a disaster.
“Place down the street from the station?” It was Cassie’s regular haunt, being so close to where she worked. She and Emily had met for lunch there a number of times.
“Sure. One thirty, right?”
“Right.” Cassie pulled Emily into a tight hug and kissed her cheek. “Good luck.”
“Thank you.” Emily squeezed back just as hard. “I’ll see you later.” She watched Cassie make her way back to the moped she had parked down the street earlier, waving one last time as Cassie slipped onto the seat.
That was her cue to move. She turned back to face the imposing building and, taking a deep breath, forced herself to push through the revolving doors and step inside.
The cavernous lobby was bustling with activity. Emily felt like she was out of her element, but she gathered her courage and weaved her way through the harried workers to approach the front desk. She almost expected the receptionist to look at her in her bright blue dress and tell her she must be in the wrong place, but instead he smiled pleasantly. Emily rested her hands on top of the counter, barely refraining from bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“May I help you?”
“I have a job interview with Camila Evans.”
Was that a look of pity that flashed across his face?
“The nanny job? Well, I hope you do better than the girl who went before you because she came back crying.”
Well, that didn’t settle her nerves.
“Elevators are there.” He indicated the left side of the lobby with a grand sweep of his arm. “Thirtieth floor. The receptionist there will show you to Ms. Evans’s office.”
He smiled. Emily almost wanted to ask for more details about the crying woman but decided it was better if she didn’t know.
She squeezed onto an already full elevator, clasped her hands in front of her, and tried not to tap her foot nervously as the floors slowly ticked by, people trickling out at each stop. She was the last person on the elevator when it got to the thirtieth floor.
She stepped out and faced another long counter. The bored-looking receptionist waved Emily down the hall when she explained why she was there. The wall along the outer hallway was glass, offering her a glimpse inside executive offices, and Emily looked around wide-eyed, taking it all in.
It was a world away from the labs of her college days. She dodged people rushing up and down the hall as she approached the door at the end. A plaque on the wall beside it bore Camila Evans’s name.
Camila’s office walls were glass too, although they were frosted to give the illusion of privacy. But the door was open, revealing a pair of black leather couches on either side of a glass coffee table and a plush white rug stretched out across the center of the room.
The huge wooden desk was dominated by a row of four monitors. Emily glimpsed Camila between two of them. Her dress was a mix of different shades of red, a statement necklace hung around her neck, her hair was perfect, as it always was, and oh, she was even more gorgeous in person than anyone had a right to be.
Emily’s knees wobbled, butterflies erupting in her stomach.
“Where is my eleven o’clock?” Camila called, voice carrying clearly through the open door. Emily’s mouth was dry because Camila looked and sounded annoyed as if being ten minutes early was late in her book.
Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
She almost turned around and bolted, but at the last minute, she straightened her spine and stepped into Camila’s office.
* * *
“Where is my eleven o’clock?” Camila asked again, well aware that it wasn’t yet eleven, yet entirely convinced that when her next appointment showed up, she could pierce them with a withering glare and berate them because, as the saying went, early was on time, and on time was late.
Her first three interviews had all been disasters, and Camila was in a sour mood. She almost felt sorry for the last unlucky soul who had interviewed. She was starting to wonder if she was going to have to give up her search and keep bringing Jaime to work with her. At least it was only another year before he started school, and she could probably make it work, if she had to.
She just didn’t want to.
She didn’t want to spend another second interviewing a terrible candidate either. She was about to ask Jessica what the hell she’d been thinking selecting these goons when a young blonde woman stepped through the door.
“Ms. Evans?” She sounded so chipper, a bright smile and a goddamn spring in her step. And she looked barely old enough to be out of school herself.
Camila stared at her and almost dismissed her out of hand. It was childish, she knew, but she was just so tired, and there was no way in hell this woman was the right nanny for Jaime.
“Auditions for the next season of Love Island are two floors down.” Camila waved the woman away and reached for her tablet to check her emails.
“I…I’m not here for that.” Camila glanced up again. The girl looked a little uncertain, her smile slipping from her face, and Camila wondered if this would be the second candidate to burst into tears and flee the room in the space of ten minutes.
She wouldn’t be surprised. The girl was so bright and sunny that it would take no effort at all to dash her hopes and dreams, and then Camila could go about the rest of her day.
“I’m here for the interview. For the nanny position.”
Camila studied the girl for another moment. She may as well give her a chance, seeing as she was there.
And she was early.
“Okay, then,” she drawled, leaning back in her chair and adopting a bored-looking expression. “Tell me why you want this job. What can you offer me?”
“Well, I’m a hard worker, and I’m reliable, and—”
“That’s all very well.” Camila cut her off, folding her arms across her chest, her eyes never leaving the girl’s face, impressed when she didn’t look away. “But I didn’t ask for your résumé. I already have that. Why are you here?”
“I just… I want to be useful, Ms. Evans.”
The girl fiddled with her hands, as if to stop her fingers from trembling. She looked terrified, which was a trait she normally relished in a potential employee but not in someone who was going to spend a lot of time with her son. She needed someone confident enough to communicate with her, not someone who might sidestep.
“And I think I could be useful to you. I would like to be useful to you. I’m new to town, and I saw the job advertised, and I thought a nanny position would be a worthwhile way to spend time while I save up for my master’s degree. I think I can do this job and do it well, if you’ll take a chance on me.”
The girl’s sincerity piqued Camila’s interest, but she didn’t want to make it too easy for her.
“Look”—she squinted at the name on the résumé—“Emma, I—”
“It’s Emily, actually, Ms. Evans.”
The correction was timid, but it was there, and Camila reappraised her original assessment—maybe she had a backbone after all. For the first time, she studied Emily fully, tried to look past the hideous sweater, glancing up into brilliant blue eyes, and tried not to think that the woman was beautiful because that would be dangerous.
“Oh, my gosh!” Emily cowered under Camila’s scrutiny. “That was so rude. I’m so sorry—”
Camila raised her hand to silence her rambling and studied her with renewed interest.
“Perhaps I underestimated you, Emily.” No one interrupted her or stood up to her, ever, and it was—well, it was kind of exhilarating. “Look, I’m not going to lie to you. I expect complete and utter devotion to this job, to my son. I’m a busy woman. I work long, sometimes unpredictable hours, and I expect you to do the same. As you can tell, I am also not an easy woman to work for. You need
to think carefully about the kind of commitment I’m expecting before we go any further.”
“I have thought about it,” Emily said firmly. “I knew who you were before I came here, Ms. Evans. I know what you do and I know you’re busy. I can’t imagine how hard you must work, but I’m willing to put in the time, if you’ll give me a chance.”
“Even if it means having no life of your own?” Camila asked. “You’re young—how old are you, exactly?” She didn’t look old enough to have graduated from college.
“Twenty-three. I graduated a few months ago, but I took a year off to do some charity work in Africa before my senior year.”
Of course she did—the girl was practically a Girl Scout.
“And like I said, I’m new to town. I don’t have much of a life to speak of at the moment. I want this job, Ms. Evans.”
“What do you have in the way of experience?”
“I’ve never been a full-time nanny,” Emily said. “But I…I spent some time in the foster system”—Emily looked away briefly—“and I spent a lot of time looking after younger children, keeping them safe and out of trouble. I also did a lot of babysitting in high school and college.”
“Mm.” Camila stroked her chin thoughtfully, but she had already made her decision. “Very well. I’m going to give you a chance, Emily. And you only get one”—her warning cut Emily off in mid-squeal—“so use it wisely.”
“I won’t let you down, Ms. Evans,” Emily gushed.
Camila held up a hand. “Don’t get carried away,” she said, and reaching for a piece of paper, scrawled her address on it. “You need to meet my son first. He’s with my assistant right now, but I’d prefer you meet him in an environment that’s familiar to him. I need to get to know you a little better too, make sure you’re the right person. Can you come over for dinner tonight?”
“I…I’d love to.”
“This is my address,” Camila waved the paper at Emily. “I’ll notify the front desk that you’re coming, and they’ll let you up. Be there at seven sharp.”
“Yes, Ms. Evans,” Emily said, turning to leave.
Never Say Never Page 2