Dragon's Secret Baby (Silver Dragon Mercenaries Book 1)

by Sky Winters

  Once she felt her appearance was to her satisfaction, she put the requested documents into her bag and headed out. Her roommates, both in the service industry, were still asleep. To her surprise, Anna felt too nervous for a full breakfast, choosing, instead, to pour herself a thermos of coffee. On the train ride to Midtown, she found herself unable to shake the strange feeling she had about all of this, as though she were walking into something that wasn't what it first appeared to be.

  Soon, she stood at the base of 432 Fifth Avenue, the building where the agency was located. The tower was one of the ultra-modern skinny skyscrapers that'd been popping up all over Manhattan in recent years, and this, too, struck Anna as strange.

  These are some nice digs for a nanny agency, she thought as she walked through the front doors of the building and into the sleek lobby. Nicer than Flintlock, so far.

  "Um, hi," said Anna, approaching the smartly-dressed young woman at the tower’s front desk. "My name is Anna Clinton; I'm here to interview with Ladon Nanny Services."

  The young woman's eyes flicked to Anna, and she looked her over with suspicion.

  "Two forms of identification, please," she said brusquely.

  Anna fumbled in her bag for her New York City ID and passport, handing them both over. The receptionist looked over the documents, her eyes going back and forth between Anna and the IDs. Once she was satisfied, she handed the documents back over. Next, she pressed a small button by her computer, which revealed on the desk, a small, electronic sensor.

  "Place your thumb there and hold it until I say so," said the woman, typing away at her keyboard.

  "What's…what's this for?" asked Anna.

  "Agency policy," said the woman, her tone sharp and her eyes still on her screen.

  "Oh, okay," said Anna, placing her thumb on the sensor.

  She held it for what seemed like a full minute, her eyes darting around at the serious-faced, professionally-dressed men and women who made their way through the lobby.

  "Okay," said the receptionist, "remove your thumb."

  Anna did so, a red imprint of her thumb remaining on the sensor; her name, date of birth, and other information listed below it.

  "That will be all," said the receptionist. "Please go down and to the right to the elevators. Take the third one on the left. The forty-fourth floor."

  Then she turned her attention back to her computer, making it clear to Anna that the conversation was over.

  That was…weird, she thought as she walked through the lobby.

  Soon, she arrived at the elevator. A press of the call button later, she stepped in and pressed another button for the designated floor. The elevator rushed up silently and opened moments later, revealing an ultra-modern office space. Anna stepped into the lobby, her mouth slightly open.

  This is a nanny service? she asked herself, her eyes scanning stylish, contemporary furniture, the young, attractive professionals who darted here and there purposefully, and the clean white and gray color palette of the décor.

  Anna approached the front desk, where yet another attractive, seriously-faced young woman sat at a long, gray desk, the words "Ladon Nanny Services" written above her in sharp, silver letters.

  Anna stated her business, and the woman gave Anna the same skeptical treatment as the girl downstairs, requesting her documents and thumbprint.

  "Take a seat and wait there," said the woman, gesturing to one of the free seats in the lobby.

  Still feeling on edge, Anna hurried over to the seat and quickly sat down, as though she might be scolded if she didn't follow the directions to the letter. As she waited, she noticed the high-tech security cameras in the upper corners of the lobby, their jet-black eyes scanning everyone and everything.

  Not very homey for a nanny service, she thought. This place feels more like some kind of tech company.

  Before she could spend too much time considering her situation, a voice called out her name.

  "Anna Clinton?"

  Anna looked up and saw that the voice belonged to a trim, middle-aged woman with severe features and dressed in an women's power suit.

  Standing up, Anna nodded.

  "Come this way," the woman said.

  Then, without waiting for Anna, she turned and headed down the hallway. Anna hurried to keep up and was quickly at the woman's side. The pair walked silently, and soon, the two of them entered a stark office of white walls and simple furniture, a pair of windows looking out onto the city, the only strange detail of note to Anna being the dark glass of one wall.

  "Have a seat," the woman said.

  Anna did just that, taking a seat at the large table dominating the room.

  "Anna Clinton," said the woman as she sat across from Anna and began to go over her file.

  "That's me," said Anna in a sheepish voice.

  "First of all, welcome to Ladon Nanny Services," said the woman, her voice clear and authoritative. "I hope none of the front desk employees gave you too much trouble."

  "No," said Anna. "It was all, um, very business-like."

  "That's how we do things here at Ladon. If you haven't noticed, by now, we're not your average nanny service."

  "I had noticed," said Anna. "Everything's so…fancy and modern."

  "That's right," she said. "Let me start by telling you a little about Ladon. We've been in the business for decades, catering to a very, very exclusive clientele. We specialize in the sorts of people who want and can afford, the sorts of nannies who fit their very exacting specifications. And, most importantly, the sort of clients we cater to have…unique circumstances."

  "What does that mean?" asked Anna, her stomach tingling.

  "It means our clients have the sorts of jobs and lifestyles which require anyone working closely with them to provide total discretion along with top-tier nanny services."

  Anna's mind raced with what this might mean.

  "What sort of, um, ‘jobs and lifestyles'?" Anna asked carefully, as though possibly discussing a forbidden topic.

  The woman flashed her a sharp look.

  "Those are matters that will be discussed should we decide to bring you on board. And only then."

  Anna zipped up, regretting speaking.

  "Well," said the woman, looking over Anna's file. "Your credentials are what we're looking for. We prefer our applicants to be college-educated, preferably from good schools and with excellent records of achievement."

  "Th-thank you," said Anna.

  The woman didn't acknowledge Anna's words.

  "And your background check came up clean. You've even got a decent credit score."

  Anna's mind raced with just why all of this was necessary. But she knew better than to ask.

  "But I see here that you were employed until…yesterday?" the woman asked, looking over her glasses. "What happened with you and, ah, Flintlock Investments?"

  "I had some…disagreements with the boss."

  The woman gave Anna a careful look.

  "You're going to need to be a little more specific than that."

  Anna's stomach tightened even more at the idea of sharing what had happened between her and Kenneth.

  "Well, out with it, girl," said the woman.

  "My boss…um, said that I had to –if I wanted to keep my job–do…um, certain things for him."

  The words hung in the air for a brief moment, the woman looking Anna over carefully, as if noticing something Anna wasn't aware of.

  "I see," said the woman. "Well, rest assured no business like that happens with our clients. Our…clientele is screened for such personality types."

  Anna said nothing, unsure of how to respond.

  "How are you with children?" asked the woman.

  "Good," said Anna. "I mean, great. I have a few nieces and nephews and I just love them."

  The woman looked at Anna carefully again.

  "Now, as we mentioned before, discretion is required. How do you feel about keeping secrets; are you capable of learning intimate detai
ls about your clients that you won't share?"

  "What sort of…details?" asked Anna.

  "Nothing illegal or anything of that sort. But the clients we cater to lead private lives and don't want their business being shared all over town. Not even with your closest friends and family."

  Anna thought about just who might fit this criterion. Katie and Eleanor were occasional drinking buddies, but as far as friends, she didn't really have any. Since moving to New York, she'd put all her effort into her job at Flintlock.

  Fat lot of good that did me, she thought.

  And while she had family, they were spread out all over the country. Aside from the odd holiday get-together, her communication with them was the occasional catching-up phone call.

  "That won't be a problem," she said.

  The woman scoured her with her eyes once again.

  "Very good. Now, one final question," the woman stated. "If you were to be accepted by our client, you would be required to move in with them in order to be present whenever he or she might need you. If all necessary accommodations and financial considerations were accounted for, is this something that you would be willing to do? Bear in mind this would all take place as soon as possible."

  Anna thought this over. Living with a stranger? It seemed bizarre, especially so suddenly. But, Anna thought, she did say all considerations would be accounted for. She realized that with her job now a memory, she really had no reason to not take an opportunity like this. And it might give her an opportunity to make some good money.

  "I think so," said Anna.

  "You think so?" asked the woman. "You're going to need to be a little more decisive than that."

  "Yes," Anna said, her voice firm. "I would."

  The woman sat back in her chair and looked at Anna carefully, once again.

  But before she could say another word, a voice piped into the room through a hidden speaker.

  "What do you think, Madeline?"

  It was a deep, resonant man's voice.

  "She's telling the truth about everything," the woman said. "Background checked out, her profile fits what you're looking for. But, then again, everything's up to you, Mr. Shaw."

  Anna's eyes flicked around the room as she tried to determine just where the voice was coming from. But she couldn't spot anything.

  Moments passed, silence hanging in the room.

  "I think she'll do," the voice said finally. "Send her to me."

  CONTINUE READING DADDY DRAGON>>>>

  Preview of Daddy Wolf: Silver Wolves MC

  Amanda caught sight of him the moment he entered the bar. He wasn’t one of the usuals, and he certainly didn’t look like one either. Threads of gray weaved through his dark hair and most of his beard. He had a weathered demeanor, that only made him more appealing. He had to be at least ten, maybe even fifteen years older than her.

  She scanned his biker gear as he made his way toward the bar. Black riding boots, leather jacket, worn jeans, and a t-shirt that read “Bad Samaritan” made up his ensemble. A few of the regulars took note of him, especially the women, as he walked through the place. He was more than a little out of place in a sea of local office types having a quick drink between the end of their work day and their retreat home.

  “What can I get for you?” she asked.

  “A shot of Jack and whatever you have on tap will do me.”

  “Guinness, Blue Moon, Bud or Bud Light,” she replied.

  “All shit. I’ll take the Guinness, I guess.”

  Amanda nodded and poured him a shot before heading over to pull a pint of beer from the tap, making polite conversation that might have been tipped with just a hint of curiosity.

  “I haven’t seen you here before.”

  “Nope.”

  He wasn’t the talkative type as he offered up nothing further. Instead, he knocked back the shot and took a drink of the beer before ordering another shot. There was no conversation to be had between the two of them other than his ordering more shots and another beer. He seemed unaffected despite the amount of alcohol consumed as he eventually settled his tab and walked out. Amanda realized she knew nothing more about him when he left than she had when he came in and, much to her surprise, found that she would like to.

  It wasn’t often that a man garnered much attention from her. Many of the regulars usually hit on her, but she had no interest in any of them. She was well aware that she was attractive, though not at all conceited about it. Most women would consider it good fortune to have been graced with her good looks, but it was a curse, as far as she was concerned.

  She brushed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, and let her blue eyes scan the space. She felt like an All-American girl—looked like one—and that is precisely how she was treated. No one cared if she had a brain or any inclination to use it. Instead, they saw her as an object to be possessed. Men grabbed her thick waist and groped her lean legs. She rolled her eyes. Men only saw fit to dangle her on their arm as a point of envy for other men. Women saw her as a threat. She was neither.

  It hadn’t been so long ago that she had thought it in her best interest to settle down. She was, after all, twenty-eight and still single. Carson Sims had been in her life for two years and was eager to marry her. It was no secret that he was ambitious and power hungry. That had been just fine with her for him to be driven. She had been just as keen to make a name for herself in the world of art acquisition. It had been after a particularly difficult day with a local curator that a conversation had shed a frightening light on what she was signing up for if she married Carson.

  “I don’t know why you don’t just leave that job. You’re not going to need it once we are married,” he had told her.

  Amanda had stopped in the middle of preparing their dinner and looked at him, studying his face carefully. He didn’t seem to think anything of what he had just said.

  “I may not need the job, but I’m hardly one to sit at home and let you take care of me. I might complain, but I love my job and want to take it as far as I can. Someday, I’d like to own my own import-export business.”

  “Then I’ll buy you one. I’m already doing quite well for myself and will only become more successful as time passes. We can buy you a business, and you can hire people to run it, so you aren’t tied up there all the time.”

  “Why wouldn’t I just run it myself? It is, after all, what I want to do. Why would I pass it off to paid strangers?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Amanda. You’ll have your hands full here quickly enough.”

  “With what?”

  “Do you think running a household is easy? This is a huge house I’ve purchased for us to live in once we’re married. You can spend your time redecorating however you choose, cooking, reading...I’m sure you’ll want to hire the cleaning out eventually. I mean, I know you pretty much do it now, but once we have children, you’ll be even busier with them.”

  Children?

  “We haven’t even discussed children,” she replied.

  Amanda could feel her anger rising. She had always known that Carson was traditional when it came to his idea of marriage, but she had no idea that he expected her to be a stay at home mother. What about her own ambitions? Was she not entitled to pursue a career just as he was?

  “What’s to discuss? I thought you wanted children?”

  “I don’t know if I do or not. Even if I do, it won’t be anytime soon.”

  “Amanda, you are not getting any younger. Surely you don’t want to be one of those women who is middle-aged and pregnant?”

  “I don’t know if I want to be pregnant at all!”

  “Look, you seem agitated, and I have work to do. You need to sort yourself out and be reasonable. We’ll talk about it again some other time.”

  Amanda stared at him wordlessly as he got up and made his way to his office down the hallway. Shaking herself free of her momentary paralysis, she looked around the kitchen. It dawned on her that this was meant to be a prison sentence, no
t a marriage. How had she missed that little fact?

  That had been only a few months ago. She had packed her bags the following day while he was at work and left, leaving only a note with her engagement ring to hold it down on the kitchen table. She had intended to find a place of her own and just continue with her life without him in it, but things had gotten ugly quickly. Repeated incidents later, one of which was in direct violation of a subsequent restraining order, and Amanda had run even further away, giving up everything for a bit of peace of mind.

  It had only been after her head had cleared a bit that she had realized that her reason for running went far beyond just not wanting to be a housewife and mother. She had been afraid of commitment, giving up her freedom. It had seemed manageable when Carson had proposed to her, but when he had begun talking about her becoming a homebody and a mother, it had gotten to her. That was the real reason she had left him.

  Of course, she didn’t regret it. After seeing how he had reacted, how he had come after her, she could make certain assumptions. Would he have been that abusive in their marriage? Would it have just been verballing or would it have crossed the threshold to physical violence? He had shown signs of that during the stalking that had taken place, shoving her against a wall and pinning her there to force her to listen to his angry tirade. She had been frightened and greatly relieved when a local had forced him to release her and escorted her to her car safely.

  So, she had ended up here, in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Rio Lobo wasn’t exactly the sort of place you’d find on any map. In fact, she hadn’t seen it on hers. Instead, she had wandered off course, ended up here by mistake and decided to stay. It was an old town, full of superstition and ancient lore, but it was her home now. If she missed anything about her past life, it was her budding career. Perhaps one day, she could pursue her dreams once again. Until then, she would continue to lay low and live the simple life she had come to embrace.

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