THE NANNY (A BILLIONAIRE BWWM ROMANCE)

by King, Imani

  Max interjected again: “Blaize………I need to talk with you privately……PLEASE !”

  “You evidently find this whole thing very amusing, Mr. Simon. But I can assure you, we do not. You seem to have a pattern of public displays of intoxication and disruptive behavior. You might even say trouble seems to follow you around, Mr. Simon. And you’re absolutely right; The United States is not very welcoming when it comes to visitors who thumb their nose at our laws and make a nuisance of themselves. Especially when they’ve also been ignoring visa regulations .”

  Both deputies were now sporting big self-satisfied grins. They were clearly very pleased with themselves. I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if they had started giving each other a high five in celebration. I could see I was in serious trouble, so I took Max off speaker-phone and listened intently to his instructions before handing the phone off to Rolande. I turned to the officers and pleaded my case in the most humbling way possible :

  “Officers I sincerely apologize for my behavior. I am not making light of this at all. I love America with all my heart and you must believe me when I say I’m sorry for giving the impression that I do not completely respect the laws here. You’re absolutely right; I can see why you would want to roll up the welcome mat on me. I’ve been an abysmal guest. I see that now. But may I please have 15 minutes to discuss this matter with my agent and legal counsel in private? Surely I deserve a small amount of attorney client privilege… I need to weigh my options, in the hope that I might pursue the best course of action for everyone concerned .”

  The officers looked at each other and sighed. “We could both use a cup of coffee, anyway. We’ll be back in 15 minutes. C’mon, Frank ……”

  The three of us now had one quarter of an hour to figure out a way of not only getting me back into the U.S., but also securing a more permanent visa for me. Turns out, Rolande and Max were already hatching a plan …

  And I didn’t like it .

  “You want me to claim I’m engaged to an American citizen? Well, that’s not so hard. I can easily do that! As long as I don’t have to actually get married ……”

  Rolande looked pretty solemn. “You do have to actually get married .”

  “What? Are you fucking kidding me? Is this a joke ?”

  “It’s the only way, buddy. But it’s not like you have to stay married. After an appropriate amount of time, you get a divorce. Hey, it’s either that, or you need to have a kid with a U.S. citizen. Do you have one of those ?”

  “A child?! I certainly hope not !”

  But I did think hard about that for a minute. Surely if there had been a child I would have been long-since wrangled for support .

  I got back on the phone with Max. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Can’t I just pay them some money to smooth things over? You know I have practically unlimited resources, Max .”

  “Practically unlimited resources are the only reason you’re going to leave that room with your passport intact,” Max said quietly. “I’ve already made the requisite contacts to have your visa extended for a very limited amount of time… I think you’ll find your friends at the airport will be a bit more amenable when they return .”

  Rolande pleaded with me, this time solely as my agent. He reminded me that there was money at stake; both his and mine. “Blaize, it’s the only way. We have to get you in, and we have to solve this problem on a more permanent basis. You’ve got important meetings lined up with Hollywood studio-heads this week. They want to hammer out the details of your next script-writing project… Plus, you’ve got book signings and promotions nationwide, and you can’t exactly do that tour if the US Government is kicking you out of the damn country .”

  “Well who the fuck am I supposed to marry, anyway ?”

  “Are you kidding, me? You know plenty of American women. And you know damn well that you have several L.A. ‘regulars’ that you ‘see’ every time you’re over here. I’ll bet any one of them would be thrilled to be Mrs. Blaize Simon, prenuptial agreement or not. Shit, pay me enough money and I’ll fuckin’ marry you! Last I heard that’s legal now in the states …”

  “Well that might certainly be good if I needed French citizenship, Rolande,” I replied with a laugh .

  “I live to serve,” Rolande offered, waving his hand through the air .

  And so, with a great amount of apprehension, I agreed to the plan. The immigration officials returned and a deal was cut and payed for through Max. I was a granted only a 60-day visa with two non-negotiable conditions: The first one being that I submit my valid marriage certificate to Homeland Security within that time frame. And number two, that I behave myself while I’m a guest in the country. I wasn’t sure which one was going to be more challenging .

  4

  Chelsea

  “T iffany! Where are you? What are you doing? The chocolate chip crème puffs need to come out of the oven in exactly 5 minutes! I’m busy with these phone orders !”

  My lifelong friend was now my business partner. And a very reliable one too, I might add. It wasn’t like her to just disappear without a word, especially at the risk of burning our product .

  Where could she have gone and why can’t I find her ?

  I put my customer on hold and darted into the kitchen just as the timer started beeping. The golden-brown pastries looked perfect, so I slid on some oven mitts, pulled the baking sheets out of the oven and transferred them onto cooling racks. I heard the front screen door slam as Tiffany came back into the house .

  “Where were you? The puffs are done! Did you finish making the chocolate filling? I gotta get back to Mrs. Russo before she gets mad. It doesn’t take much to get her riled her up !”

  “Sorry about that, Chels! Old man Sherman was letting his Great Dane poop on our lawn again. I had catch him in the act. What makes him think we want a shit pile the size of a Volkswagen on our grass? And yes I finished the chocolate filling. Although the thought of squirting it into the puffs is sounding kinda gross to me now .”

  We looked at each other and both burst out laughing! We were having a great time working together. It didn’t matter that we had to run our new business, French Chocolate, out of our very tiny California bungalow in Venice Beach. We had become very adept at doing all the preparation and baking within the confines of the little 1930’s era kitchen. The quality of our French pastries and other confections never faltered and we were getting plenty of business from word-of-mouth. We knew it was just a matter of time before we would have our own shop in Los Angeles. We just needed to work hard and be patient. Oh yeah, and pay off some burdening student loans …..

  Our dreams were coming true, slowly but surely, just like my daddy told me they would. He never had much money, only his Veteran’s benefits, but he had always supported us in every way he could. He even gave me most of my mama’s life insurance money when she passed. I didn’t want to take it, but he wouldn’t hear of it any other way. He wanted to see his daughter’s hopes and dreams materialize, and he was proud that he could help me put them within reach. I loved him more than anybody in the whole world .

  Most weeks, we baked our little hearts out without even one day off. It was a lucky thing Tiff and I both shared the same tough work ethic. We were already very close to being able to buy a new, state-of-the-art baking oven. It was also fortunate that there was a perpetual southern California ocean breeze that blew through our little abode and kept it cool despite the continuous oven heat. For 8 to 10 hours a day, we were busy producing every type of French chocolate dessert imaginable: Chocolate almond cakes, chocolate macaroons, chocolate croissants, chocolate mousse, chocolate soufflés, and even chocolate candy which included truffles, ganaches and pralines. Our ingredients were pure and our prices weren’t cheap. We knew we had an excellent product and we were proud to put our names on it .

  Since it was a Saturday night, Tiff and I decided to knock off a little early and send out for some Chinese food. There was so many great restaur
ants in the area. And such diversity too; Moroccan, Peruvian, Thai, Greek. It was all within a walking distance of our house. And you couldn’t beat the local seafood! We shared a bottle of Pinot Grigio and kicked back on the front porch while we waited for the delivery boy to pedal over on his bike with our order .

  “This is pretty nice, ya gotta admit. I thought I’d miss France more than I actually do. How ‘bout you Chels ?”

  “We’ve been so busy, I haven’t had a chance to miss it. But I do feel a twinge in my heart when I think about the great time we had there. It was almost perfect. If it wasn’t for you know who, it would have been absolutely perfect .”

  “That fuckin’ jerk-wad Luc! Did I ever tell you how much I wanted to cut his little dick off, Chelsea ?”

  “Yes, Tiff…….many, many, MANY, times, in fact. You’re a true friend. And if I ever need a professional castrator, I will certainly call you first .”

  “Did you tell that little prick-face that you were moving back to California? When was the last time you talked to him ?”

  “It’s been months since we’ve spoken. I didn’t tell him I was leaving France. There was no point. I literally never want to see that scumbag again. The humiliation of learning that he was married the entire time we were dating and I didn’t even know it; it kills me to think about it! The fact that I was the other woman in his marriage; I’m still sickened by it! And worse yet, his wife didn’t even leave him when she found out about me !”

  I swilled down my remaining wine in one gulp and poured myself another. Luc might have left Tiffany with a bad taste in her mouth, my brief experience with that arrogant French writer Blaize hadn’t left me feeling much better .

  “Wow, I shouldn’t have gotten you started on this subject. I’m sorry Tiff. Here, pour me another glass too, will ya ?”

  Chang Woo’s delivery boy pedaled up just as Tiffany and I finished hugging and toasting to our new life. We marveled at how he could carry so many bags of take-out cartons on his handlebars without toppling over. I ran inside to grab my purse so I could pay him and decided to bring him out a chocolate chip crème puff for the road. He thanked me as he made change for my thirty dollars. His eyes suddenly widened with joy as he took a bite. “Holy shit that was fantastic! You say you make those yourselves? I’ll spread the word… Have a great evening ladies!” He waved back at us as he pedaled down the sidewalk .

  “Oh shit! We should have given him some of our business cards. We gotta remember to do that next time we see him. He’s cool. I like that dude! Do you wanna eat out back on the patio, Chels ?”

  “Definitely. I think the house is still a little warm, don’t you? The night air feels great. Are you as tired as I am ?”

  “Are you kidding? I’m exhausted. I’m thinking we should hit the hay early tonight. We have those huge orders to make tomorrow for the big wig’s meeting in Santa Monica on Monday, and then we have to get ready for that rich lady’s baby shower. I think this could really be it! You never know what new doors will open for us. There’s a lot of people with power and money around here .”

  5

  Blaize

  H opping happily out of bed, I strutted into the bathroom, stopping briefly to admire my naked reflection in the mirror. Whistling a chirpy little tune, I headed into the steaming shower. I had an almost overwhelming feeling of empowerment and immortality… It was as if I had cheated death itself .

  The immigration fiasco at the airport could have easily spelled disaster for me, but as usual, I came out of it smelling like a rose. Sure, I had a couple of unorthodox legal concessions to make but I wasn’t worried. I was confident that everything would work out just fine. That is what I paid people to do. They make things work out. Greasing the right wheels didn’t come cheap, but it was a necessity. Of course, I didn’t come cheap either. Which was why Rolande and I were excited about our afternoon meeting. Several details of the scriptwriting movie deal still needed to be negotiated, but my salary was not one of them .

  The luxury yacht I had rented was docked at Marina Del Rey. It was the perfect coastal retreat and walking distance to both Santa Monica and Venice Beach. I fully intended to keep my nose clean during my stay and that meant avoiding any and all temptation to drink and drive. The day’s meeting was an easy stroll from the boat. I went up on deck to find Rolande basking in the sunshine with his feet up, and coffee, juice and pastries for two on the table. What an agent !

  I took a sip of the coffee and savored it for a few seconds. “Oh yeah, that’s excellent. Don’t you just love American coffee? Why do you suppose the coffee in France is so awful when the rest of our food and drink is so superior? It makes absolutely no sense .”

  Rolande was in complete agreement .

  We both reached for a croissant at the same time. He took an almond one and I took the chocolate. Biting into them simultaneously, we both choked and spit them back out. I couldn’t help but shudder. “Ugh! Fuck! That’s horrible! They’ve got a lot of nerve trying to pass those off as anything but pure shit!” Rolande dumped the remaining “treats” over the side of the boat. I teasingly reminded him that dumping hazardous waste into coastal waters was a criminal offense. Even the fish below seemed to be avoiding the floating lumps .

  “While I’m thinking about it, make a note to yourself Rolande. Check into getting me a decent chef to cook for us while we’re staying in the marina. We’re not going to be able to exist on breakfasts like the one we just had .”

  “Good point! I’m sure I can get some recommendations .”

  We relaxed on the boat for the rest of the morning and reviewed some of the established points of the contract. Rolande felt it would be wise to go over the agreement one more time before the meeting. I hated all that legal jargon but I had to admit it was a good idea .

  We headed over to the noontime meeting at the high-rise Santa Monica office. I loved catered lunch meetings. Movie studios usually spared no expense when they were trying to woo someone. And I adored being wooed ……….

  The meeting ended up taking longer than Rolande and I expected, but overall, it was a success. There were about a dozen people present: Actors, agents, the director, the producer, etc.; all the principle players. The studio had already adapted the first book in my vampire trilogy, Midnight Hunter: Crimson Feast, into a movie. But I didn’t write the script on that one. It was a hit, but not the mega-hit that my book was. Eventually, some genius recognized the disconnect and approached me to write the script for the sequel, Midnight Hunter: Bloody Banquet . Rolande and I were more than happy to sign on to that project, for the right price. The meeting went smoothly and everyone seemed genuinely pleased with the final deal .

  The lunch had been superb! It was catered by the owners of an authentic Spanish restaurant on nearby Ocean Blvd. I had never eaten better ceviche, despite my frequent holidays in Spain. As the staff cleared the dishes from the huge round meeting table, the chatter continued about how amazing the food and sangria was. I excused myself to the restroom so I could make room, so to speak, for the dessert that was scheduled to follow. Upon my return, I received the best surprise of my life. My breath actually caught in my lungs and I froze like an ice statue .

  At first, I almost couldn’t believe my own eyes .

  It was the ravishing beauty from my party. The woman who haunted my very dreams .

  She was wheeling a dessert cart into the room that was loaded down with the most magnificent array of French pastries I had ever laid eyes upon outside of my own country .

  She was absolutely enchanting to watch in action; the way she pleasantly smiled and interacted with each person as they made their selections and then the elegant manner in which she lifted each delicacy off the tray with her silver serving tongs and placed it on their plate. I was hypnotized by the gentle rhythmic swaying of her sensuous hips and full breasts as she made her way around the table. The men were certainly giving her a warm welcoming reception; many of them in their pants. They could barely keep their
tongues from lolling out onto the ground .

  Perhaps I was doing just as poor of a job maintaining my composure .

  I slipped back into my empty chair as inconspicuously as I could, waiting for this vision of heaven to make her way over to me. When it was my turn, she automatically flashed her sexy smile at me, but then noticeably hesitated before speaking .

  “And what………would you like……sir ?”

  Her expression suddenly went cold upon the realization of who I was: The Frenchman with the dick hanging out of his fly .

  “Well, obviously I would like your name, address and phone number……..” I said, smiling up at her. The people within earshot of me shifted uncomfortably in their chairs and I could see that she was clearly embarrassed. I decided to backpedal a bit, in an effort to rectify the situation .

  “I mean, I would like one of your business cards, of course. I am planning several parties during my stay, and I will certainly be in need of services such as yours… I would also like one of your chocolate croissants and perhaps one of those tasty-looking pecan brownies ?”

  She politely handed me a card but her face revealed her true mistrust as she said, “With pleasure, Mr. Simon.” Unfortunately, the idea of this lovely vision serving me with pleasure only served to stir my cock into action. The obvious rise in the crotch of my pants quickly caught her eye. I could tell by the way she quickly tossed my desserts on my plate, smiled politely while trying not to make eye-or-crotch contact, and scurried away. Fuck! Sometimes I wished I could obedience train my dick! Down! Sit! Stay! Good boy !

  Everyone in the room was raving about the pastries. Mine were so sublime, I greedily snatched another brownie from the large platter she left in the center of the table. She had obviously been well-trained during her stay in France. I overheard her telling Rolande that her name was Chelsea and she and her partner actually made everything from their little house in Venice Beach. I read the little embossed card she had handed me: It was simple but classic :