Nanny for the Billionaire

by Jenna Brandt

  “I ordered a dirty martini with three olives,” a red-headed woman said, gesturing towards her drink. “This only has two. You need to fix it—right now.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” Celeste said, picking up the drink, knowing that arguing the point that she had taken the drink order correctly wouldn’t do her any good. It would only infuriate the woman further. Best case scenario, she would leave Celeste a bad tip; worst case scenario, she would report her to Rick. Neither option sounded good to Celeste, so she bit back her defense and hurried away with the drink.

  She returned a few minutes later with the corrected martini and pulled out her tablet again. “Can I get you those appetizers now?”

  “No, having you re-do that drink has made us all far too hungry,” the snide man said with a roll of his eyes. “We’re ready to order our meals now, that is, if you’re able to do your job properly, Sugar.”

  Celeste’s eyes rounded with shock; not sure she heard the man correctly. She was used to rude guests, but this guy was beyond anything she’d had to deal with in a long time. Quickly, she masked her reaction, knowing it would only provoke further ridicule.

  “I’m ready for your order, sir,” she said instead.

  “I’ll take the rib eye with the cauliflower puree,” the man ordered first, making it clear he was the leader of the group.

  “And I’ll take the goat cheese salad with baby arugula,” the red-headed woman said, before flipping her hair over her shoulder and adding, “And don’t forget the goat cheese. I mean, you did forget my olives after all. You need to remember to…”

  The woman was cut off as Celeste watched Roger come into view, saying, “Good evening, everyone. Sorry I’m late, but my father is on the warpath again about getting me in the office.”

  “Why don’t you do it just to shut him up?” the annoying brown-haired man suggested. “You could give him a few hours a week. I’m sure it would do the trick.”

  “You’re probably right, but I just don’t know if I want to spend my life reading oil production reports and managing pipeline repairs.”

  “Boys, I get that you want to talk business, but I’m hungry, and you interrupted my order,” the red-headed woman whined as she scrunched her face up with irritation.

  “Sorry about that,” Roger said, glancing over at Celeste for the first time. His eyes grew wide with recognition as he stammered out, “Celeste, I didn’t know you would be working here tonight.”

  She nodded. “I always work Friday nights.”

  The brown-haired man glanced from Celeste to Roger and then back to Celeste, his eyes narrowing with each pass. “Wait, how do you two know each other?”

  “We go to church together,” Celeste stated, without hesitation, wanting to make it about that rather than their connection through Bryce and Lana.

  “And she’s best friends with Bryce’s fiancée,” Roger added.

  So much for keeping that fact a secret; she wasn’t sure why he had to add it. It wasn’t going to do either of them any good.

  “So, let me get this straight. You’re hanging out with a waitress now too, Roger? I mean, I understand that you worship Bryce, but do you have to end up with the exact same type of woman as him?” the man asked, in a tone that made it clear he was appalled by the fact.

  “I think you have the wrong idea, George. You should probably stop now before you make it any worse,” Roger stated, glancing uncomfortably over at Celeste.

  Frustrated, Celeste decided she had enough; she couldn’t listen to another word. “I think, under the circumstances, another server would accommodate you best. Please excuse me. I’ll send Trinity right over to help you.”

  Without waiting for a response, Celeste spun around on her heel and took off for the employee area. She had just made it through the door when she felt a hand grab her arm and stop her. “Wait, hang on there, Celeste. Give me a minute, will you.”

  “Why? You got a snarky remark to throw my way too? I guess one more can’t make me feel any worse,” Celeste snapped out as she whirled around to find Roger standing behind her. She pulled away and crossed her arms, defensively.

  “Hey, I didn’t have anything to do with what they were saying. As a matter of fact, if you remember correctly, I told them to stop. George can be a real jerk.”

  “You can say that again. How can you stand being friends with people like that?” Celeste asked with disgust.

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure what I ever saw in them, except perhaps they ran in the same circles as me. George and I grew up together, but it doesn’t mean I don’t see how awful he can be. To be honest, since giving my life to God, it hasn’t been easy. I find myself drifting away from them.”

  “Well, I guess that makes it a little better,” Celeste said, letting her guard down a bit as she uncrossed her arms. “Over the past couple of months, I was really starting to think you were changing.”

  “I am, but I’m not perfect, Celeste. I’m still trying to figure all of this out. Being a Christian is new to me. Can you give me a little break?”

  Slowly, she nodded her head as she said, “Thanks for coming after me.”

  “Of course, you’re my best friend’s fiancée’s best friend. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  Roger’s words momentarily penetrated the wall she had formed around her heart, and for a split second, she wanted to let herself care about him. Quickly, she pushed away the desire, realizing that Roger wasn’t the type of guy she needed to get mixed up with. She was better off on her own.

  “I have to get back to work. I’ll see you at church tomorrow, right?”

  Roger nodded his head as Celeste walked back through the door and out of sight. She forced herself not to think about Roger, or the fact she could have gotten lost in his piercing brown eyes.

  2

  The buzzing of Roger’s phone caused him to roll over and pick it up. Groggily, he squinted at the screen and forced himself not to let out a string of curse words. Great, his father was calling. He debated about letting it go to voicemail, but Roger knew the man would just keep calling. His tenacity knew no bounds.

  Bracing himself for the verbal assault, Roger answered the call. “Hi, Dad, you do realize it’s Sunday morning, right?”

  “Of course, I know it’s Sunday morning, but do you think I got to where I am by paying attention to traditional days off? Not possible; you have to take every opportunity to get ahead, even if that means working on a Sunday.”

  “So, this is about work then?” Roger asked, a little disappointed that he wasn’t calling about family matters. A small part of him had hoped his father was calling to invite him over for dinner. Roger should have known better though. His father wasn’t the sentimental type; he was all business all the time, as far back as Roger could remember.

  “I’m calling to tell you that I expect you to be at the office first thing tomorrow morning, and by first thing, I mean 8 AM sharp.”

  Roger let out a heavy sigh before saying, “Dad, you have plenty of other people to boss around, can you quit trying to do it to me?”

  “I’m tired of letting you live your life oblivious to your role as the heir to the empire I built. It’s high-time you started learning the business you will be running one day.”

  “I went to college and did my apprenticeship just like you asked, Dad, but I thought you understood I don’t want to run the oil company.”

  “If you don’t, who will?” his father asked with anger. “You’re my only son.”

  “Tiffany has wanted to run Boswell Oil since we were in diapers. You should let her.”

  “Your sister is barely out of university, and a girl at that. With the type of business I run, it takes a firm hand and being able to go to the right places to get the job done.”

  Roger knew his father was talking about the strip joints and gentleman’s clubs that business deals were often made at. Roger didn’t know how to tell his father that he stopped going to those places once he became a Christ
ian. He was certain his father wouldn’t understand.

  Trying to divert the attention from the fact he didn’t think he could do the job, Roger pointed out, “I think Tiffany would do a fine job. She’s bright and could figure out a way to get the deals done another way.”

  “There isn’t another way, Roger, and you would do well to remember that. The way I do things is the way it has always been done. It’s never going to change.”

  Roger decided arguing the point was useless. There was no winning an argument with Roger Boswell II. Instead, he said, “I have plans today, Dad. I must get off so I can get ready.”

  “Let me guess, racquetball with Bryce Montgomery, followed by brunch at some trendy restaurant,” his father stated with disdain.

  “Bryce moved to LA, Dad. I told you that already.”

  “Oh, that’s right, it must have slipped my mind,” his father said with a hint of confusion.

  For a moment, Roger was perplexed by his father’s temporary memory loss. It was completely unlike him. He remembered everything down to the last detail. His father was like an elephant in that regard.

  Before Roger could question his father about it, he said, “8 AM sharp, Roger. Don’t forget. If you don’t show up tomorrow, there will be consequences.”

  Roger knew what that meant. He would cut Roger’s line of credit off and freeze his trust fund. Maybe if he just went for a few weeks, his father would relent after seeing Roger wasn’t a good fit.

  “Have it your way, Dad. I’ll be there in the morning.”

  By the time the call ended, Roger couldn’t go back to sleep. He might as well get up and make himself a cup of coffee. He padded through the stylish penthouse apartment on the Upper west side of Manhattan.

  His interior designer did a good job of keeping the clean, modern lines Roger preferred, along with sticking to the gray and white pallet. He entered his state-of-the-art gourmet kitchen—which he never used except for coffee—and hit the brew button on his expresso machine. His stomach grumbled and he looked in his fridge, even though he knew only emptiness would greet him.

  He had contemplated hiring a live-in chef but figured he would much rather go out and dine at various hip restaurants. Now that he wasn’t partying like he used to, he wondered if he should revisit the idea.

  A loud knock at his door drew Roger over to it, surprised anyone would be bothering him at his home. His apartment building had security and a doorman.

  Roger swung the door open to reveal a tall brunette woman standing next to a small boy, who looked to be about four years old. He didn’t recognize either of them, that was until the little boy looked up at him, and Roger saw his own brown eyes in the child’s face.

  His blood ran cold as he realized his biggest secret was standing right in front of him. As he wrote each monthly check and sent them to the boy’s mother, Roger forced himself not to think about the boy in a real sense beyond an obligation. They had never met, and he figured they never would. As he looked at his illegitimate son, Roger realized something must be terribly wrong for him to be here now.

  Celeste was trying to get used to going to church without Lana by her side. The first few weeks had been exceptionally hard, but she forced herself to go anyway, knowing that her reasons to go went beyond socializing.

  Though she had some other church friends, no one could fill the void left behind when her best friend moved away. Celeste often found herself sitting on her own or avoiding group hangouts because it made her miss Lana even more.

  As she entered the lobby of Journey Church, she glanced around for any familiar faces. She saw several of the members from the young adults group standing in one corner, but they were already in conversation. She didn’t feel like bursting into the group and hijacking the conversation. On the opposite end, she saw several of the women from the moms’ group; she definitely didn’t fit in there either. With a small shrug, she figured she should just head into the sanctuary and find a seat. Sitting by herself wasn’t so bad once she got used to it. Before she could reach the doors though, Reggie Fields came rushing up to her.

  Great, just what I need. One more reason to wish Lana was here.

  Before Lana left, Reggie’s focus had been squarely on her, but once she moved to LA, he turned his attention to Celeste. Not only was it awkward because Celeste felt like he viewed her simply as a consolation prize, but also because he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer when she rejected his offers to take her on a date.

  “Good morning, Celeste, it’s good to see you. Want some company inside?”

  Celeste looked up at the tall green-eyed man with slicked back sandy blond hair. He was wearing his signature off-work style—if you could call it that—a plaid button-up and jeans. He looked more like a lumberjack than a police officer. She found it hard to imagine him in a cop uniform when he was at work.

  “I’m good, Reggie, but no, thanks for asking.”

  “I just figured since you sit alone all the time now that Lana is gone, you might be interested in having some company.”

  “Watching me rather closely, aren’t you, Reggie? You know, for a cop, you are a borderline stalker.”

  He crossed his arms as his smile turned into a frown. “You know, Celeste, you don’t always have to be so combative. It can be real off-putting.”

  “You’re right, Reggie, which is why you should probably just give up on trying to get anywhere with me. I’m probably just way too sarcastic for you.”

  “No, I don’t think that’s it. I think you’re just afraid to get close to anyone, but I’m a patient man. I don’t mind a challenge.”

  Why couldn’t he take the hint? She was basically telling him he had no chance, and yet, he continued to ignore what she was telling him. Engaging with him further would serve no purpose. “I need to go find a seat, Reggie,” she stated dismissively, and took off towards the sanctuary, hoping he didn’t follow after her.

  “Celeste, wait up. I need to speak with you. It’s important,” a voice said from behind her.

  “What now?” She turned around with irritation, ready to be even firmer with Reggie.

  To her surprise, it wasn’t him. She found Roger standing there with a young boy next to him, who looked to be no older than four or five.

  Her eyes quickly fixed on the child, and she tilted her head, trying to figure out why the boy seemed familiar, though she had never met him before. He was adorable, with curly brown hair, tan skin, and piercing brown eyes. It was the eyes that drew her in and made her feel like she knew him, but she couldn’t place why.

  “Can we talk for a few minutes?” Roger glanced around with a weary expression. “Privately.”

  She nodded her head as they headed back through the doors. “What’s going on Roger? Who’s the boy?”

  Roger glanced down at the child and stopped moving. “I should probably introduce you. This is Marcus. He’s…going to be staying with me for a while.”

  Celeste’s eyebrows arched in surprise as she glanced from the boy to Roger, wondering how they were connected. Bending down, Celeste reached out her hand to the boy and said with a warm smile, “Hello, Marcus, my name’s Celeste. It’s nice to meet you.”

  The boy looked at her hand for several seconds before hesitantly taking it. He gave her a small smile as he whispered in return, “Hello.”

  Celeste straightened up and turned her attention back to Roger. “Are you going to explain what’s going on?”

  Leaning towards her, Roger said, “I’ll explain everything once we’re alone. There’s a kid’s place around here, right?”

  “Sure, I can help you check him in if you’d like,” Celeste offered, pushing away her confusion and focusing on the task of getting the boy to the kid’s wing.

  “Thank you,” he said with a stiff nod. “I could use the help.”

  They made their way into the children’s area of the church. After a few minutes, Marcus was checked in and comfortably playing with the other children.

 
; Celeste and Roger headed over to the café area of the church taking seats at a small table in the corner.

  “So, what’s going on?” Celeste probed, noticing that Roger looked nervous, almost afraid. “How do you know that boy?”

  “This is really hard for me to admit,” Roger started, his voice barely a whisper. “The only other person that I’ve talked about it with is Bryce. Of course, Lana knows, and Gabrielle, which is why she was able to use it against me to get me to help her do all sorts of awful things.” He pressed his lips together and shook his head with frustration. “I shouldn’t have let her manipulate me the way she did, but I was afraid.”

  “I can see that,” Celeste confirmed, “but if you don’t tell me about it, I can’t help you.”

  “Marcus is my son,” he choked out. “I got a woman pregnant five years ago, and she didn’t want to get rid of it—though I tried to convince her to. I think she wanted to keep it so she could get money out of me, and it worked. I’ve been paying her to keep the boy a secret.”

  “I don’t understand,” Celeste stated, her brows bunching together in confusion. “Having a child outside of marriage happens all the time. Though I wouldn’t want to be in that situation, it’s not something you need to hide. Why are you?”

  “Because of who the mother is,” Roger whispered with embarrassment. “She’s a notorious Manhattan escort—Brianna Bradley. Her list of famous and political clients would astonish you. She was very, very good at her job and I was a regular, up until she got pregnant with Marcus. I knew I couldn’t marry her, but I’ve provided for her and the boy since she got pregnant.”

  Celeste couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Not that she was passing judgment, but she had no idea Roger had a secret illegitimate son no one knew about.

  “Okay, so that explains who Marcus is, but how did he end up with you? Does he stay with you regularly?”

  Roger shook his head unwaveringly. “I took care of him financially, but my father thought it best if that was the extent of the contact. I’d never even met Marcus until today when one of Brianna’s friends dropped him off at my place.”