“Good God!” Gina squealed as he started tickling her. “Shhhh…you’ll wake the baby.” She urged him to be quieter, but it was already too late. Evelin was awake and she wanted her mommy.
“Alright, alright. Go take care of our little munchkin, and as soon as you’re ready, we can make another one, and another one, and another one…”
Tyler kept talking until Gina left the room. She couldn’t even count how many children he wanted, and she smiled to herself. She entered Evelin’s room and picked her up, pressing her gently against her chest. Evelin stopped crying immediately.
Gina rocked her a little, singing her a lullaby her mother used to sing to her when she was little. Everything was alright with the world. She had everything she could ever need. How? She had no idea. Was it luck? Good fortune? Or was it fate? She wasn’t sure. She just knew that she finally found a place to call home and a heart to call her own. THE END
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Turn the page to read: “The Billionaire's Nanny ” by Danica Jackson
The Billionaire's Nanny
Chapter 1
Regan
The headache wouldn’t go away. It had plagued me all day, starting this morning and progressing straight through the afternoon. Sitting in front of a computer screen hadn’t helped at all. As a journalist, well aspiring one anyways, I was typing on my laptop ninety percent of the time. It just came with the job and I was damn good at it. If only my boss realized. I took a deep breath. It wasn’t worth worrying about now. Now the only thing that mattered was the fifteen minutes I’d already wasted waiting in line to check out.
I so do not need this right now!
I came to the store to pick up some groceries after work. A few cartons of yogurt, a dozen eggs, and loaf of bread. My usual stuff. I figured I would just get my food, wait in line, and then get to go home, but as the time ticked by, that last one seemed more and more doubtful. What the hell was going on up there? I stood on the tips of my toes to look around the guy ahead of me to try and see what the holdup was, but I couldn’t make it out through the long line in front of me.
I rocked back on my heels, my eyes glancing over the guy standing just a foot ahead of me once more. He was handsome in a severe kind of way, but the little girl at his side crying her tiny eyes out was what really caught my attention. And my headache’s attention. Well, crying was an understatement: more like a high pitched shrieking that pierced my ears and would have put an opera singer to shame. It sort of reminded me of a Mandrake, but not the fun kind that you saw in the movie. No, this was the kind that made you pass out if you weren’t wearing ear protection.
Deep breaths; just stay calm and take very deep breaths.
But the child just wouldn’t stop screaming. My headache was pounding in time to the awful sound. I had to swallow hard against the pain, but the line was moving a little and I had already wasted this much time. I might as well try and stick it out.
My gaze shifted to back to the girl’s father. He stood, seemingly oblivious or uncaring of his child’s needs. How he could somehow have missed his daughter’s ear drum shattering cries was beyond me, but he seemed willing to just stand there and do nothing. My head railed at him to calm her down; to stop her crying, to do anything to quiet the noise.
But the screaming continued, actually seeming as impossible as I would have thought it, to grow louder. And still, her father didn’t do anything. A quick glance behind me showed that everyone else in the line was blisteringly aware of her screams. How could he just ignore it? Who does he think he is? That the rest of us have to stand in line, listening to his daughter’s tantrum, and he just gets to ignore it.
The line shuffled on a little further towards the overworked cashier and he bent towards her, at least trying to calm her down, but it was only trying. He sure as hell wasn’t succeeding. I sighed once more, rubbing my temples, my headache growing to monumental proportions, and I was on the brink of just leaving my basket full of food somewhere and walking out. It’s fine, I thought, I can just ignore them. If I can ignore my boss treating me like little more than an intern, criticizing me at every turn, I sure as hell can ignore one upset, screaming child.
That’s what I told myself, until one particularly loud yelp cut through the air like shards of glass. Maybe it was the headache, maybe it was the terrible day I’d had at work, but I’d just had enough.
“Sir?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm as I tapped his shoulder, “Your daughter seems really upset. Maybe I can help?”
I’m not the type to butt into other people’s business, but I had plenty of experience at babysitting when I was younger, and knew how kids work. And if the ear piercing noise continued, I honestly thought my head was going to explode all over the checkout aisle. Honestly, I was just preventing a medical emergency.
The father of the child half turned to me, and I noticed for the first time just how tired his eyes looked. Drop dead gorgeous baby blue eyes, but tired nonetheless. Somehow, it didn’t make him any less handsome. I offered a polite smile. My smiled didn’t last, however, fading quickly at his sharply spoken words.
“It’s none of your business.” He snapped at me and turned away again, as his child continued to scream at his side. I know it’s hard. I know kids can cry and there’s nothing the parents can do but smile apologetically and go about their business. I wasn’t completely without sympathy, but my pounding headache made it hard to concentrate on any feelings of mercy at the moment.
I couldn’t help but clench my fist at his harsh tone, but I took a deep breath when I looked down and saw the girl. Her eyes were as blue as her dad’s but clouded with tears. She was genuinely upset about something and just wanted to be comforted. I rolled my eyes at my soft spot for kids, from years of babysitting or something else I’m not sure. But as I took a deep breath, I met the little girl’s gaze once more and knew what to do. If there was anything I knew about kids, I knew it was that they liked when people made fools of themselves. Good thing I was great at that.
I pulled a coin out of my pocket and showed it to the crying girl, turning it from one side then the other. I dug a pencil out of my laptop bag and started coloring the edges, making sure there was lead in all the ridges. I showed it to her again and with a goofy look, I rolled the coin down from my forehead through the middle of my face. The pencil came off on my skin in a wiggly line and she started to calm down, her eyes widening first in apprehension, and then her cries slowly turning to little giggles. For good measure, I crossed my eyes and stuck my tongue out and she began to laugh in earnest at the more ridiculous faces I made at her.
Eventually she stopped crying completely, still sniffling occasionally, but giggling more often than not, so I smiled at her. As she calmed down, the redness fading from her cheeks, she really did look cute. Another idea popped into my head: the simplest trick, but I’d used it before to astound little kids. I took the coin and with one, smooth motion, made it look like it had disappeared. Her bright blue eyes widened in awe, and it made me almost want to laugh. To finish the trick, I reached to her ear and pretended to grab the coin out of it.
The girl was amazed, a full blown smile now turning up her mouth instead of cries, and I laughed myself when she tipped her head, hoping to get more money out of there. I chuckled at her actions, and the sound drew the man’s attention; that and the fact that his daughter was no longer crying. He finally looked away from the cell phone clenched in his hands, the object that had been holding his attention before.
He turned to the little girl in surprise and then he turned to me. I just kept smiling at her for a moment longer before turning to look at him. Damn. My heart skipped a beat and my thoughts froze for a moment. I’d noticed he was handsome in a distant sort of way before, more distracted by his screaming daughter. His features were sharp, striking with his straight nose and softened by lush lips that would look great in a smile. Or a kiss. And his eyes, those
piercing blue eyes that shot straight through me. He was quite a bit taller than me, with a muscular, athletic build and broad shoulders all wrapped up in a perfectly tailored suit. Like a present. Or a piece of candy. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to unwrap him, to wonder what he would taste like. What the hell was I saying? I quickly shook my head, trying to get those thoughts out of my mind.
I stared at him a little too long, longer than I should have, and it looked like he was doing the same to me. After a moment, I had finally snapped out of it, looking away bashfully, but he kept staring, his blue eyes locked on my own. It was unsettling to be looked at like that. Like he was wondering just how I would taste. Then I realized I still had a pencil mark on my face from showing his daughter the trick with the quarter and a hot blush flamed across my cheeks. Suddenly embarrassed and uncomfortable, I raised my eyebrow at him before blurting out, “What?”
My sharply spoken word seemed to snap out of his shock and he gaped at me a little before clearing his throat and glancing down at his daughter before meeting my gaze again. This time his eyes held more annoyance and frustration, but still there was a heat hidden behind the other emotions. It was confusing and unnerving, but I forgot all about the banked desire in his blue eyes when he opened his mouth.
“Excuse me, but this is my daughter. I would appreciate it if you don’t interfere,” he snapped, his voice deep and his words causing my hackles to rise. The nerve of the guy.
I just scoffed at him. I couldn’t believe he just said that. No, seriously, did he just say that to me? My own anger spiraled higher as he stood there in his expensive suit and continued to look down his nose at me.
“I beg your pardon, but you weren’t doing such a good job at quieting her down,” I stated as calmly as I could. My headache was back in full force and cut any patience I might have had for this prick down to barely nothing at all.
“That’s still none of your business. She’s my daughter and I know how to deal with her.”
I looked at him, pure disbelief and irritation lighting my gaze. The guy seemed so sure of what he was saying. I couldn’t believe it. Had he somehow missed the ear piercing cries of his upset daughter? And the way he had just ignored it to the pain and suffering of everyone stuck in the long checkout line. I looked down at the girl who was still trying to see if she could get some coins out of her ear and my expression softened. It wasn’t her fault.
“Yeah, it looks like you just standing there and not comforting your child helped a lot,” I said, sarcasm dripping from my lips. I knew I should just let it go, but it was either my headache, or my bad day, or my frustration with this too-handsome man that had me opening my mouth.
“Hey, screw you, lady. I was doing what I could, okay?” He spat out the words, anger written over his face.
“You should be thanking her, young man!” An old lady behind us said quickly, and her words had satisfaction rolling through me. It took everything inside me not to send him a smug look of my own.
“Yeah, she did what you should’ve done as a father.” Another woman said, and it snowballed as other people standing in line chimed in.
“Don’t blame her cause’ you can’t handle your kid.” A guy towards the back commented.
“And just because you can’t take care of your kid it doesn’t mean we should have to deal with it,” I stated, staring at him, watching anger melt into rage in his fiery blue eyes.
He scoffed at my words, but he was completely outnumbered by everyone. With a huff, he left his cart full of food and began to walk away.
Before he’d taken more than a step, he stopped and turned around. “And by the way, you have something on your face!” he hissed.
“I know!” I yelled, “It’s what got your daughter to calm down.”
He growled low and rough like a cornered animal before walking away, the little girl’s hand clenched in his as she trailed behind him. His daughter waved back at me and I sent her a small smile. Poor kid, it wasn’t her fault her dad was an ass.
I would’ve liked to make sure she was doing fine, but I probably was never going to see her again. On the plus side, one less person in this unfortunately long line!
“Oh, don’t pay that man any mind. You did a good thing for that little girl.” The older woman behind me assured me.
“Yeah, poor kid though,” another shopper said.
My thoughts turned to what had made the kid cry like that in the first place. Sure, it was probably just a little girl throwing a tantrum, but for some reason, my mind couldn’t let it go. I knew how to recognize a kid throwing a tantrum from a kid who was crying because they were genuinely upset. I’d certainly had enough experience with both during my babysitting years, and something about the whole episode had me worried for her. There’s nothing else you can do now, I told myself, finally making it to the cashier with my handful of groceries. I did everything I could.
Chapter 2
Regan
“Regan, the boss wants to know if you have her coffee ready,” I heard my coworker and friend, Sarah, say from behind me. I turned around, groaning at her words. What was with my boss? Did she not know she actually hired me for my brilliant work and not my ability to get some coffee? How could she still not realize after all this time that I was a good writer, and a damn good journalist. But she insisted on treating me like an intern, or some sort of personal assistant.
“Yes, I’ll give it to her in a minute,” I finally responded, frustrated. I quickly saved the piece I was in the middle of writing before getting up from my desk. I did not have time to get that woman her coffee. It was an important piece of news that the public needed to be aware of, as it involved indisputable evidence that the Senator had committed fraud and was trying to cover his tracks. It was a great article, with important content that people deserved to know about. I needed to finish it, not be interrupted every fifteen minutes.
Sarah gave me a sympathetic look and a shrug. “She wants it now.”
“Then you take it to her,” I told her, handing her the coffee with a frustrated growl.
She was silent for a long, tense moment before speaking again. “She also wants to see you in her office,” Sarah said finally, her voice soft and tentative.
I groaned again, throwing my head back before rubbing my face. I so did not need this right now. I was on the brink of writing an award winning article a full day before the news would break in any other paper. I was damn good at my job. What does it take for a woman to get recognized for it? Nope, instead I was left to fetch coffee.
“I’ll be right there.” I gave in reluctantly, grabbing the coffee.
I stopped in front of Sarah before going any further, “When is she going to realize that I’m one of the best journalists she has here? What do I have to do?”
Sarah just shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry, Regan. I know it’s hard. Hey, maybe it’s not as bad as you think it is.”
I rolled my eyes at her in disbelief before turning and walking towards Rebecca’s office. The urge to spit in her coffee was strong but I shook it off. Whatever dirty games my boss might play were up to her, and I was better than that. But that woman could drive anyone mad. Finally I reached the far end of the office and knocked on her door.
I loved my job, but my boss was another story entirely. Not just because she’s unbearable, but because she just wouldn’t let me progress. In her eyes I’m just the girl who gets her coffee, her reports, and her lunch. Just an assistant with no real potential, even though I’d been writing articles for over a year now. I knew they were good, and I knew I was a great writer. I just didn’t know what to do to make her realize it.
At her sharp command I opened the door, and with a deep breath to steady my nerves, walked inside.
I was there for almost forty grueling minutes. The woman complained about the pieces I wrote and how I wrote them. I don’t sugarcoat anything in my articles and she knows my work sold papers and people liked it, so she couldn’t real
ly stop me from publishing. As she continued to rail at me, I had to wonder what it was that had made her dislike me so much. I knew for a fact that if my articles weren’t some of the most widely read, I would have been fired months ago. It took everything in me just to stand there and take her criticism, but finally, mercifully, it was over.
I went back to my desk to finish the paper. The only consolation was when I looked to the clock and realized that my shift was over. I sighed in relief, saving all the information I had written before clocking out and leaving along with Sarah.
“So I’m going out with this guy Mark tonight who got us tickets to a basketball game, but we can still hang out afterwards,” Sarah offered with a smile as we pushed through the revolving doors of the office building.
“Well, to be honest, I was hoping to take some time to kick back at my place,” I said. I really didn’t feel like going out today, especially after that nightmare meeting with my boss, “Maybe watch some movies, I could look at the Star Wars 7 trailer another twenty times and...”
“Oh!” I yelped when I bumped into someone, “Sorry.”
I quickly regretted my words when I looked up and saw the person who I had bumped into. My eyes widened in shock, before narrowing again in irritation. It was the same guy from the grocery store. I scoffed and rolled my eyes. Just my damn luck to run into this asshole. It was the cherry on top of my already terrible day.
“Well, nice to see you again too,” he said, a forced, fake smile plastered on his face.
“Forget what I said, I’m not sorry,” I spat, turning to walk away.
“Oh very nice of you,” he gritted.
“What, you think I’m actually gonna be nice to you?” I asked, raising my eyebrows in surprise. Did we not have the same conversation in the grocery store? Because I remembered every rude word that he’d said after I’d calmed his daughter.
Not his baby: A BWWM Billionaire Romance Page 15