CEO's Secret Baby: A Single Dad & Nanny Romance

by Natasha L. Black

  “Well, for one thing the trust business is real. I want you to administer the trust and be a full partner in our life and property. But it was also to wind you up a little, to make you wonder if I was ever going to propose. You must have known that I wanted to propose when you woke up in ICU. How it was all I could do not to overwhelm you with that on top of saving David, and me knowing about the pregnancy and also being in love with you. It would have been too much. But it was my instinct. To make you mine. To trick you into a shotgun wedding if I had to.”

  “So you wanted me to make an honest man of you?” she said archly.

  “Yes. I want to be your husband. I was a terrible husband once, but I’ve learned a great deal since then. How to love, how to trust. So I’m deeply grateful that you’re giving me the chance to make you my bride.”

  “There is nothing I want more in the world than to be your wife. Can we go to the courthouse on Monday? Is it even open between Christmas and New Year’s?”

  “A courthouse is not good enough for you. You deserve a palace and ten thousand roses and a pair of swans.”

  “Why ten thousand roses but only two swans?” she said, teasing me.

  “I thought ten thousand birds might get a little wild. All that squawking. And swans in general are pretty but they’re aggressive. Have David tell you about waterfowl sometime. Dinosaurs have only been his thing for about six months. Before that, it was ducks.”

  “That explains the troops of rubber ducks in the bathroom.”

  “Yes. And geese and swans and other kinds that I don’t remember their names. The camo rubber duck was his favorite. He used to put it in the tub and pretend he couldn't find it because it was, you know, camouflaged.”

  “That sounds like him. I wish I’d been here. But I’ll never miss another animal obsession or cute phase he has. Have you talked to him about us getting married?”

  “He suggested it. It was my idea first obviously, but when I asked how he felt about you living here, he said I should marry you. He had seen a commercial on TV for diamond engagement rings and said women really liked those. I explained why—that they weren’t just a present. They were a promise to get married. He said that was a good idea. He wanted you to stay and also I needed to ‘say sorry in a big way’ according to my kindergartener who apparently things a proposal and a ring are a form of apology.”

  “I’m not sure that’s right.”

  “I tried to clear things up with him. I told him the only reason to propose was if you wanted to marry somebody and you couldn’t imagine wanting to marry anyone else. That it wasn’t just an apology. He seemed to consider that, but I’m not sure he’s convinced.”

  “I hope he doesn’t try to hand out engagement rings to everyone he needs to say sorry to at school. He’s pretty bossy from what I hear,” she said teasingly.

  “Yeah, we’re not buying them in bulk. In fact, this one is pretty special. I had to wait two weeks for it to get here. But I wanted something unique.”

  “Is it a ring with a tiny bowl of soup instead of a diamond?” she said.

  “No. Should I have gone for novelty or kitsch like that? I sourced a conflict free blue diamond. The blue diamond is the rarest jewel in all the world. Just like you. Just like this glorious woman who stepped in to help me when I was in a bind needing a temporary nanny. Just as rare and amazing as the woman who loved my son and opened up his world and healed my heart. Because no ordinary white diamond was ever going to say all that. So there’s this.”

  The white leather box was in my pocket. I flipped the top open, watched the widening eyes, the perfect oh of her lips as she took in the ring I’d designed for her.

  “The jeweler put up a hell of a fight. He said it was a crime to cut a blue diamond of this quality into a heart shape. That it would be best showcased in a simple classic setting with a square or brilliant cut. I told him it wasn’t for him. It was a ring for the most beautiful, talented, warm, loving smartass in the world. And that she was the one who had made my heart whole, so I could give her nothing less than a whole heart, unbroken and perfect. So here you have a rare blue diamond cut into a heart shape that the Italian gem cutter swore was a design fit only for shopping mall ring shops where everything costs $399 and comes with a free teddy bear.”

  “So no free teddy bear?” she joked.

  “Do you like it?” I said, wondering for an instant if the heart shape was too on the nose, if I had taken a romantic gesture and cheapened it somehow. The jeweler may have been right about sticking with a classic. Perhaps she hated it, and couldn’t find a polite way to say that I had ruined a very expensive diamond with my stupid idea.

  “Do I like it? Do I like the rarest gem in the world chosen just for me? Or do I like your actual heart? Because I realize we don’t say stupid, but that is about the stupidest question I’ve ever heard. In what universe would I not LOVE that you did this? You created something so special, so specific to represent us and this painful, gorgeous journey that got us here. I can never say how much I love it or how much I love you, William.”

  Then Jessica burst out crying. I swept her into my arms and cradled her against me, kissing her tears away. My heart swelled with happiness that she understood what I had meant by the design, how I was so desperate to express the depth of my love for her, my gratitude that we’d survived everything that should have destroyed us. She knew me inside and out, and she understood fully how much I loved and needed her. That the ring was a symbol, but that even that symbol had to be as precious and strange and unexpectedly perfect as we were together.

  “I think you dropped my ring,” she said, kissing me again.

  “We’ll get it later,” I said.

  “No, I want to wear it.”

  “Well, I need to make love to you now. That was very emotional and meant a lot to me.”

  “Just to you? William, you proposed to me, and it was incredibly moving and brought me to tears and if you don’t mind I’d like to wear my perfect engagement ring for the first time while we make love.”

  “Okay, you talked me into it,” I said, and located the ring on the floor.

  I slid it onto her finger, loving the gasp on her lips as it fitted her. I untied the sash of her silk robe and laid my hands on her bare body reverently, lovingly, and kissed her with every ounce of passion in my body. Like the lucky bastard I was.

  15

  Jessica

  Most people would think that it would be impossible to plan a wedding, a big one in a week. Not only in a single week, but in the week between Christmas and New Year’s. We managed it. The secret was having conviction that we simply must be married on New Year’s Eve, and also having buckets of money to speed up the process.

  The preparations were hectic, but William was careful to make sure I had time to relax. He didn’t want me to be stressed out over the short planning time before the ceremony. He had, in fact, vowed to make it happen when he asked when I’d like to get married. He’d vetoed the courthouse idea. I just wanted to be Mrs. Danes and know that I was his forever bride. But when my second choice was a New Year’s Eve wedding, he promised to fulfill that wish.

  He also insisted that I spend time taking care of myself and resting. So he had his assistant Susan book my friends and me a spa day. I agreed on the condition that Susan got to join us. In the day spa where we got pregnancy massages (for Nicki and me) and a regular massage (for Tara and Susan, the hardworking assistant), we had our nails done, drank sparkling water with a twist of lime and had facials using gold leaf.

  “Is this gonna make me glow?” Nicki said.

  “I can’t believe you ate the cucumbers they put over your eyes to depuff them,” Susan told her.

  “They were good and crispy. No sense wasting them. Plus, that one there gave hers to me because she thought the pickle smell would make her puke,” she said, indicating me.

  “Please don’t say pickle,” I groaned.

  “So you want me to cancel that pickle buffet I set u
p for your reception?” Susan said.

  “God, you’re the worst!” I said, trying not to gag.

  Tara laughed, “She is so one of us. You ever wait tables, Susan?”

  “When I was in college, yes. I was terrible at it. I used to tell people to hurry up. I only had six tables in my section and quick turnover was the key to good tips. People don’t consider that.”

  “I’d say not telling people to choke down their food and leave was a key to getting better tips,” I said.

  “I was not successful as a server,” she said, “but my work as an online assistant was quite profitable. All I had to do was organize people’s tasks, set their schedules and tell them what to do. There is no one on earth that needs strict mothering like an executive. The male ones I mean. The females seem to do fine on their own. But men—they need someone to boss them around,” Susan said.

  “Um, you’re not married, are you?” Tara said, half joking.

  “Oh yes I am. Four years now. To him.” She peeled a cucumber off her eye, fished her phone out of the pocket of her spa robe and showed us the photo on her wallpaper.

  “Hot damn, woman! I’d like to find me a man looks like that and wants to be bossed around!” Nicki said.

  I looked at the screen and gaped. Susan was an attractive woman around forty with a sensible bob haircut and an efficient demeanor. Her husband looked like he could headline a male stripper venue starring only Greek gods.

  “Where did he come from?”

  “Mykonos originally. I was there on a side excursion after a business trip and I met him at my hotel.”

  “Was he traveling or did he own it?”

  “He carried my luggage,” she said with a smile. “By the end of the week, we were inseparable, and he came to America with me. He seems quite content despite the cold winters.”

  “Wow,” Nicki said, “He is all kinds of wow.”

  “Very clever as well. Speaks three languages. His only other job prior to working in his grandfather’s hotel was some modeling.”

  “Modeling like runway?” I said.

  “Modeling as in for the illustrated Kama Sutra edition. He’s quite talented,” Susan said.

  “Holy shit,” Nicki said.

  “Any advice for a single girl?” Tara asked.

  “Be confident and don’t settle for less than you want,” Susan said.

  I felt like I should be writing that down, even though I had the man of my dreams. The woman was clearly on to something.

  “You could quit working for William and sell a book with just that advice and a photo of your husband on the front. You wouldn’t need advertising. Women would buy that thing,” I said.

  “I like working for William. He’s brilliant, but too stuffy and has to be kept strictly organized. Although we are taking a holiday on Mykonos in April. My dear Stavros is inheriting his grandfather’s hospitality holdings throughout Europe.”

  “He’s rich, too? I’m gonna faint,” Tara said.

  “Eat a cucumber,” Nicki offered.

  “You’ll find your dresses are ready ahead of schedule,” Susan said, “William specified that he will tolerate no delays. If I may say so, I’m very glad you were patient and persistent enough to make this happen.”

  ‘The fast wedding?” I said.

  “No. The relationship. He very much needed someone he could rely on. He’s grown younger these last few months. You may not see it, but I have watched him for years, inflexible, arrogant, unwilling to indulge himself at all. You changed that. You were exactly what was needed. Warm enough to thaw him out,” Susan said.

  “Thank you,” I said, “I was lonely, too. And I had a crush on him forever. He is exactly the sort of man I never believed I could hope to find.”

  “Man Crush Monday turned out good,” Tara said, “we used to take bets on if he was ever gonna ask her out. We thought she’d be lucky to get a hookup, one and done.”

  “Thanks, Tara. Please say all that in your bridesmaid’s toast at the reception,” I said sarcastically.

  “Should I mention the part where you swore me to secrecy about the baby when I make my toast?” Nicki teased.

  “If they’re doing that, then I get to include the part when William phoned me to send you flowers and when I asked what the message should say, he said, ‘I slept with her and I really shouldn’t have’. That would be a lovely, romantic story to tell,” Susan put in.

  I drank the rest of my sparkling water, “Maybe we should make it sound more of a classic fairy tale and less of a… soap opera than it was.”

  “Soap opera? Ain’t you fancy?” Nicki laughed, “I thought you were gonna say shit show.”

  “I was trying not to.”

  “Well, you all did have sex and he dumped you. And then you had more sex and he dumped you even worse. And he wouldn’t talk to you and then you found out you were knocked up and quit your job…” Nicki said.

  “Don’t forget the part where she fell through a hole in the pond and nearly died,” Tara said.

  “I didn’t fall. I jumped,” I corrected.

  “That doesn't make you sound too smart,” Nicki laughed.

  “And falling in a hole does?” I giggled.

  I was so glad I’d taken the day to spend with my girls before the wedding. We were all relaxed and pampered by the middle of the afternoon. The next day was the big day. David was serving as best man, and we had found him a cummerbund for his tux that had tiny dinosaurs embroidered on it. You would think that would be a special order thing that took forever, but apparently there’s a demand for dino tuxedos. My bridesmaids had green dresses—green because our entire Christmas holiday that was so perfect had been themed in green. My own gown was stunning, a simple column of satin that did nothing to hide my growing baby bump, but showcased it proudly. The gown was strapless, a creamy shade of ivory, and my hair was caught up in delicate curls, held with a jeweled comb studded with emeralds to match my bridesmaids. We didn’t have swans, but there were thousands of white roses filling the hotel ballroom as I walked down the aisle.

  William stood at the gorgeous altar, an arch of sweet soft blooms, in his sharp James Bond looking tuxedo. He was impossibly handsome. So perfect I felt my body heat as I looked at him. The warmth in his eyes, those eyes that used to avoid mine, that used to be cold an arrogant—now they were filled with love and happiness. I took his hands at the altar. He kissed me full on the lips without waiting for the vows. His lips were on mine, and I was in his arms. The crowd cheered and clapped and laughed, but it was no show off stunt. It was proof of the connection, the intimacy between us. That we couldn’t resist.

  “My prince,” I whispered as I drew back.

  We spoke our vows in hushed, serious tone, our eyes locked on each other. I lifted my face for his kiss as the music swelled, my new wedding band heavy on my finger.

  William swept me up into his arms and carried me down the aisle. I laughed and tossed my bouquet. Nicki scowled at the guest who caught it, mumbling that I could’ve waited to do that when she wasn’t ten feet ahead of me down the aisle and about a million months pregnant. I laughed again.

  The dancing went long into the night. I kicked off my shoes and had one last dance alone with my husband to the same Ed Sheeran song we’d danced to in the kitchen so long ago. Only this time, Ed Sheeran was singing it live. My husband had hired him to sing three songs at the reception, for an exorbitant fee that was to be donated to the charity of his choice. It was an exquisite wedding gift to me. But not as good as the one I was about to give my husband.

  I stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear.

  “My love,” I said.

  “Yes?”

  “We’re having a daughter,” I told him. He picked me up and spun me around.

  “I knew it. This is perfect.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, “everything is just perfect.”

  More perfect than I could ever have imagined.

  The love of my life.

  His son. />
  Our baby daughter on the way.

  All the love in our hearts, and a whole life to discover each other.

  Nothing could have been more perfect.

  Epilogue

  Jessica - Three Years Later

  I signed my name with flourish. Jessica Ruth Danes, right on the line beside my husband’s name. We completed the purchase agreement on the downtown building I’d had my eye on.

  Our daughter Olivia had just turned two years old. She was home with the nanny while David was in school—in third grade and interested in robots now. He and his dad were building one in the upstairs bedroom that I now called the STEM Lab. Olivia was more into bugs and worms. She was no fancy little girl with bows in her hair. She had her brother’s love of animals—all kinds. For her second birthday she had wanted a goat. We went to a petting zoo for the celebration, but that did nothing to dissuade her. So she was now the proud owner of a pair of pygmy goats that lived in their own shed on our property. I teased William for spoiling her, but I knew he couldn’t help it.

  Never had a man been so happy. I had thought the novelty of our marriage, our family and the union between us would eventually become ordinary to him. But it had never paled. Each day he woke telling me how lucky he was, how desperately he loved me, how he’d fly me to Paris for dinner if I wanted. We had gone to Paris a few times, but our dinner was more likely chicken nuggets than escargot with Olivia in the house. She was a picky eater who put David’s former pancake demands to shame. She ate chicken. She ate donuts. She ate cherries. That was about it. This was a misery to me, since I had completed my culinary training and prided myself on innovative twists on comfort food. There are really only so many ways to make a chicken nugget, even if you vary the dipping sauce.

  I was ready at last to open my restaurant, just the way I’d described it over dinner years before. With a plain pancake with margarine and syrup that I would still call David’s Special. With artisanal macaroni and cheese, a hearty Bolognese, a thick roast beef sandwich with melted provolone and grilled onions. The kind of food that stuck to your ribs, gave you sweet memories of a warm, wholesome time when everything was safe and good.