Max took exception to the royal use of “we” but let it slide, this once.
“We can’t leave her like that,” Hugo pressed the argument.
“Okay, let me make something crystal clear,” Max said. “There’s no we. And you better remember that before I kick your ass from here to Bellevue and back.” He dismissed the man with a wave of his hand. “Go and buy diapers and whatever else it needs.”
“And you are going to stay with the baby?” Wilson asked in a sweet tone.
“Of course not.” Max looked at Jack.
His security detail chief shook his head violently. “I apologize, sir, but I can’t. There’s nobody else tonight to patrol the building. And what if some paparazzi gets through the gate and shoots some pic—”
“He’s got a point.” Wilson nodded. “And I’m leaving. I need to sleep. Tomorrow is the big day, remember?”
Max cursed. He had completely forgotten about the lawsuit starting the next day.
“I can’t stay with it alone.” Max hated that it sounded very much as if he was begging.
“Then leave Hugo with the baby and you go grocery shopping,” Wilson said, moving toward the elevator.
“Wait!” Max followed him. “A nanny. You were talking about a nanny. Where can I find one now?”
“Now, you won’t find anyone—” Wilson started, but Jack interrupted him.
“I can help with that,” the man said.
“Can you?” Max asked.
Jack nodded. “I can call my sister. She’s been babysitting since she was ten years old and is very good with kids. And she’s discreet and can keep a secret.”
“I don’t know about that,” Wilson cautiously said.
“Can she come now?” Max asked.
“I think so—”
“Then she’s hired.” Max strode toward the elevator, finally feeling in control for the first time since he had set foot in his penthouse.
3
Vivienne heard her cell phone’s loud ring, but it took her several seconds to open her eyes.
“What?” she barked before looking at the caller ID to see who was calling her at the ungodly hour of three in the morning.
“Sis?” Her brother’s voice echoed from the speaker as her eyes focused on Jack’s name on the screen.
“What happened?” Vivienne’s heart leapt in her throat.
Images from the accident that had changed her life forever played in her mind.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Jack hurried to say. “But I need a big favor.”
“Now?” she asked, relieved that he was okay, but starting to get pissed off at him for waking her. She always slept fitfully, when she managed to sleep at all.
“I wouldn’t have called if it weren’t important,” he said.
By now, her eyes were wide open, and she knew she wouldn’t resume her beauty nap any time soon. I wish I could fall asleep at will, she thought as her brother repeated how important his request was without hinting at what he was about to ask.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked suspiciously.
“There is this little girl who needs some babysitting—”
“Fine, I’ll do it. I’m free anyway tomorrow, today now,” she amended, “but couldn’t you wait four hours to tell me?”
“You are needed now.”
“Right now?” Vivienne leaned away from the phone to look at the time. “At freaking three fifteen in the morning?” After I was awake until one for a Game of Thrones marathon?
“The child has nobody and could use some loving care at the moment,” Jack said, knowing which buttons to push.
“Whose is this favor for?” Again, suspicion entered her mind. Her brother worked for Maximus Prize, one of those billionaire jerks who looked good on the cover of men’s magazines but was rotten inside.
“My boss,” he answered, then hastily added, “But it’s truly a favor you’re doing for the little girl, not him.”
Vivienne rolled her eyes. What had Mister Douche done this time? She never referred to his brother’s hotshot boss by his name—it was too douchey to begin with. What were his parents thinking when they named him?
“Please, Vi, she doesn’t have anyone, and she’s really small and cries a lot.”
“How old is she?” She brought both her legs to the side and swung her feet to the hardwood floor of her studio apartment.
“Not sure—”
She could hear her brother scratching his jaw. He always did that when he was deep in thought.
“She’s small,” he finally said.
“We’ve established that already.” Vivienne grabbed the sweater she had thrown over the back of the kitchen chair and dragged her feet to the coffee maker. “Is she a toddler?”
“How old is a toddler?”
“Between one and two and a half. At the youngest, they’ve usually just started walking.”
“Nope. She’s definitely younger than that.”
“Is she a newborn?”
“She might be.”
“Is she your boss’ baby?”
“I can’t answer that because I don’t know. We have a baby situation here and need someone we can trust who isn’t going to sell a story to the press first thing in the morning,” Jack said, a hint of panic in his voice.
“Okay,” she said because she couldn’t help being a big sucker when either her brother or babies were concerned.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you, sis.” He sighed. “I’m sending you a limo.”
Not even fifteen minutes later, Vivienne saw a black stretched Hummer parking on the street, three floors below her apartment. Cup of strong coffee in one hand, she took the elevator as her fingers typed on her cellphone.
Does Mr. D have diapers & formula?
She sent the text to Jack before exiting into misty Seattle.
A large man stood with his back to the limo, and when he saw her, immediately walked toward the building’s entrance with an umbrella.
“It’s just a drizzle,” she said with a smile as he accompanied her to the passenger door.
“Good morning, Miss Vivienne,” the man said when he sat in the driver seat. “My name is Charlton. Let me know if you need anything or if you need me to stop on the way to Mr. Prize’s residence.”
As the driver talked, Jack answered back.
Diapers, check.
Formula, check.
“No stops necessary, and I don’t need anything, thank you, Charlton,” Vivienne said, eyeing the minibar behind the glass door.
“Please, help yourself with anything you like, Miss Vivienne.”
Vivienne wasn’t a wine connoisseur by any stretch of the imagination, but when she saw the bottle of Egon Muller, even she recognized the expensive German Riesling.
“It’s a bit early to start drinking,” she joked.
“There’s fresh chocolate, espresso, or tea,” Charlton said, looking at her from the rearview mirror. “I apologize, I didn’t have time to buy croissants.”
“It’s all right. I’ll manage.” Vivienne couldn’t help but laugh which prompted the driver to chuckle, too. “Don’t let it become a habit, though.”
“I won’t. I promise.” Charlton was now openly laughing.
They spent the drive in mindless chit chat about the weather, and several minutes later, they arrived at Mr. Douche’s.
4
“Send someone down to the garage to pick up the bags,” Max said to Hugo, entering the elevator.
He was in a terrible mood from the harrowing experience of shopping for formula and diapers. Fortunately, as soon as he entered the convenience store open 24/7, a nice blonde with a pixie haircut came to his rescue and helped him choose among too many products to count. Before he left, the girl told him her shift had almost ended, and if he wanted to go to her place he was more than welcome. He had to politely decline her offer which only worsened his mood.
Max didn’t think the night could get any worse, but he was proven wro
ng as soon as he entered his penthouse.
The scene that welcomed him was straight from a nightmare. The screaming wail started immediately. The little monster wriggled in the carrier, rocking it dangerously, as she tried to break free of the restraints. Max had no experience whatsoever with kids but was sure they weren’t supposed to have faces that shade of red or to produce a stench that rivaled an open-air sewer.
“Is it possible to make it stop, for fuck’s sake?” Max looked at Hugo, whose own color was starting to change into the same red shade as the monster’s.
“The poor thing is probably drowning in her own poop and is hungry, you idiot,” a feminine voice proclaimed from behind him, silencing the monster.
Max’s blood boiled to an explosive temperature. He turned, ready to give whoever had spoken a piece of his mind.
“How—”
“People like you shouldn’t have kids,” a curvaceous, petite brunette said, cocking her hip to the side and giving him a raised eyebrow as if daring him to reply.
Max felt his skin tingle with energy but kept his temper in check. He wasn’t an alpha for nothing and wouldn’t let a slip of a female get under his skin. Plus, his dragon wasn’t acting out for once, and that helped.
Aghast, Jack stood behind the woman. He grabbed her elbow and squeezed. “I apologize, sir. I woke my sister with my call, and she isn’t a morning person.”
The hellion jerked her arm out of Jack’s hold, making him hiss under his breath, “Stop it,” then out loud, he said, “Sir, this is Vivienne. Vivienne, this is my boss, Mr. Maximus Prize.”
Max thought he saw the young woman scoff when her brother said his name but decided he must have imagined it. Women threw themselves at his feet; they didn’t go out of their way to irritate him. And to think that his evening of debauchery had started out so promising. What had he done to deserve such a hellish nightmare? Would this night ever end? To answer his question, the baby started crying again.
The brunette walked past Max, moving a considerable amount of air for someone so small, and rushed to the carrier.
“When was the last diaper change?” she asked, throwing daggers at all the men in the room, but reserving her final, venomous glance for Max.
“How the fuck would I know?” he spat back with equal part rage and shock that this woman could treat him with no respect whatsoever. “This poop-machine came out of nowhere. It’s not like I know where she’s from or what she was doing before someone left her on my doorstep and this bunch of idiots decided to keep her.”
The room fell into silence; only it wasn’t the blissful kind. It was more the kind of stunned silence that follows a deranged person’s reaction.
The last time Max lost his cool, he had been a green teenager, and his history teacher insulted him in front of the entire class. He spent a week at home and months in therapy to cure his aggressive behavior. After that episode, Max had always kept his reactions in check. He sparred and boxed three times a week to curb the worst of his explosive character because when you are born a dragon shifter, you need all the help in the world not to blow everything and everyone to cinder once a day.
Now, this woman had come and done it.
Max felt the heat burn through his body, demanding an outlet. The threesome with the blondes would have gone a long way to keep his energy in check, but he was instead dealing with a pint-sized, poopy-making monster and its supposed nanny.
The woman had the audacity to raise an eyebrow at him. “Really?” she asked, giving him so much attitude, Max almost lost his cool again.
“Vivienne, please,” Jack begged his sister.
“What?” she asked, throwing her hands in the air while her face was a mask of innocence.
“Look for someone else.” Looking at Hugo, Max made sure to keep his voice low and to enunciate every word slowly.
“Sir, it’s impossible to find someone this early in the morning,” Hugo said.
“Vivienne is already here,” Jack interceded.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Max said to Jack who had the decency to look contrite.
“While you use your big brain to find a solution, I’ll take care of this angel,” Vivienne said, freeing the baby from the carrier and picking her up. “Do you have a bathroom I can use?” she asked Max.
The baby almost disappeared in her arms, her little head with the big pink bow nestled against the nanny’s soft-looking breasts. The image was strangely pleasant, and Max had to blink out of a temporary fog. Throughout the outlandish situation, his dragon remained the personification of calm. “Over there,” he said, motioning for Jack to accompany her sister.
As soon as they disappeared around the corner, Max called Wilson.
“Find me another nanny,” he said as soon as Wilson answered, several rings later.
“I’d just fallen asleep, damn it, Max. You know it takes me forever.”
“You put me in this mess—”
“It was more likely your dick that put you in this situation—”
“The baby isn’t mine,” Max barked. “And I want a different nanny.”
“Are you having a tantrum? And what’s wrong with Jack’s sister? Hasn’t she showed up?”
“She showed up all right, and she must be gone in the next hour, or I’ll strangle her.”
“We definitely don’t want that. What’s wrong with the nanny?” Wilson’s voice held a curious tone that Max didn’t like.
“I don’t like her.”
“You don’t like her,” Wilson repeated.
“I hate her and want her gone from my penthouse as soon as possible.”
“You are having a tantrum.” Wilson chuckled.
“I am this close to firing you.” If Max didn’t let his dragon out for a long flight, he would be liable to destroy his beautiful apartment.
“You can’t fire me.”
“Try me.”
“It takes time to find a PR specialist who can manage your kind of epic screw-ups. In a few hours, the media circus will be all over you about the lawsuit.” Wilson let the concept sink in for a few seconds.
“Damn you,” Max growled as his friend unmercifully laughed. “I’ll fire you as soon as this is over.”
“Sure,” Wilson said. “I haven’t had a day of vacation since I started working for you. Prepare a good severance package, and I won’t sue you for breach of contract like Mrs. Catalani did.” He hung up before Max could say anything else.
“What the—” In a fit of rage he couldn’t control any longer, Max threw the cellphone across the room.
Only instead of crashing against the marble floor, the phone hit Vivienne squarely on the forehead as she stepped back into the room.
The string of blasphemies that came out of the nanny’s mouth would’ve made a seasoned sailor blush.
5
“Are you insane?” Vivienne asked the Neanderthal in front of her and swore one more time when she reached her free hand up to her forehead and found a bump that hurt like the devil.
The caveman stared at her in what looked like stunned silence.
“You could’ve hit the baby!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, advancing toward him.
Her brother’s hand reached for her elbow and gave her one of those warning squeezes that usually infuriated her even more. This time, it wasn’t an exception.
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Douchebag said, surprising both her and her brother, who released her elbow and stepped by her side.
Vivienne moved the baby from one hip to the other. “You are sorry—”
“I am truly sorry.” The man’s face showed traces of remorse, but Vivienne was too furious to back down.
Tilting her chin so she could look him in the eye, she said, “You are a terrible human being. A conceited, arrogant, spoiled man with the brain of a twelve-year-old boy. Useless—”
“I’m not spoiled.” His eyes had lost the fire that had burned bright a moment ago.
She briefly wondered why he had sin
gled out that insult among the many she had just thrown at him, then decided to go for the kill. “You are unfit to raise a child.”
“We are in perfect agreement,” he said, surprising her once more.
It was difficult to keep screaming at a man who didn’t fight back, and that left her unbalanced.
She looked around and found both Jack and the doorman staring at their employer in a clear state of shock.
“This baby isn’t mine, therefore arguing about raising her is moot,” Mr. Prize said. “Again, I apologize for accidentally hitting you. It wasn’t my intention.” He paused, waiting for her to acknowledge his words. When he saw that she had no intention of saying anything, he added, “Although my temper would make you think otherwise, I abhor violence in any form or shape. And I would never hit a woman.”
The baby girl stirred in Vivienne’s arm, her small head moving toward her breast, looking for food. Vivienne blushed and adjusted her hold on the baby. “Okay. I accept your heartfelt apologies. Now, is there a kitchen in this place?”
“Follow me,” Mr. Prize said, surprising her again.
She had expected the man to order either Jack or the doorman to show her the way and trailed after him across the foyer and into the next room. The entire apartment was lit without a care for the electric bill, and the place shone as bright as day. When she had gone to change the baby, she only saw a small part of the hallway and of course the guest bathroom. That room by itself was bigger than her studio apartment, but the rest of the house seemed to never end.
“Where do you have your kitchen? In Portland?” she asked, after yet another turn around the penthouse.
The man stopped and turned to look at her.
She shrugged and raised her free hand to the side, palm up. “What?”
To her shock, Mr. Prize shook his head, then began laughing. A genuine laugh, one of those bubbly sounds that start in your belly and warm your heart.
At his unexpected reaction, she couldn’t help but smile. “What?” she asked again, this time unable to stop her sympathetic laugh.
The Alpha’s Gift_Bad Alpha Dads_The Immortals Page 2