by Kally Ash
Everyone looked wary, except for Jen, whose eyes hadn’t left Jeremy’s the entire time. Max bit back a growl. “Everyone go home…except for you, Jen,” he added as an afterthought.
The rest of the staff collected their belongings and hustled out of there. Max expected Jen to at least be a little afraid, but her swaggering walk as she came towards him said she didn’t have a care in the world.
“Sit down,” he commanded.
Sliding her sunglasses onto the top of her head, she sat, blinking up at him. He couldn’t help but see glimpses of Chelsea in her. They shared the same blonde hair, the same shade of blue eyes—the same goddamn arrogance.
Max chewed the inside of his cheek, hating what he was about to ask of her. “Your roommate,” he began, unsure how to say what he wanted next.
“My roommate…” Jen prompted.
He glared at her. “Give me her number.”
The corner of Jen’s mouth tugged up in a smug smile. “Give me your phone,” she shot back.
Begrudgingly, Max pulled his iPhone from his pocket, hesitating for a moment before putting it in her palm. Jen’s thumbs quickly moved over the screen before giving him back the device. “I put it under Gigi Borello,” Jen said with a wink before sauntering out of the club.
“I can already tell she’ll be a wildcat in the sack,” Jeremy said as he sidled up next to Max.
Max glanced at the other guy. “Keep it in your pants, Walker,” he said with a growl.
Chapter 6
Gigi slid the bolt on the front door across as soon as she stepped into the apartment. The smell of grilled cheese had permeated throughout the space, so she knew Jen was already home.
“Yeah, you tell them, Taylor!” Jen yelled.
Gigi smiled in the direction of the bathroom. Taylor Swift was blaring through the small speakers her roommate had set up on the side of the sink. The hairdryer started and poor Swifty was drowned out. Gigi dumped her messenger bag on to the kitchen counter and started going through the fridge. She was starving.
She stuck her head out when she heard her phone ring. Rifling through her bag, she found the flashing phone and looked at the number. It was one she didn’t recognize. Sliding her thumb across the screen, she held it to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Is this Gigi Borello?” a dark, masculine voice asked. Gigi didn’t know why, but the sound of it made shivers chase all over her body.
“This is she,” she replied, clutching the phone to her ear. Her immediate thought was, Could this be the AMNH recruiter calling about an internship position? She immediately dismissed it, though, since she had only applied that day and applications wouldn’t close for another two weeks.
“My name is Max Parker. Your roommate, Jen, gave me your number.” Gigi turned to glare at the closed bathroom door.
“Jen,” she hissed.
“Excuse me?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She ground her teeth together.
She couldn’t believe Jen would do this to her again. She’d given Gigi's number out to random guys before. She thought her roommate had outgrown the compulsion.
Obviously not.
“As I was saying, my name is Max Parker. I’m Jen’s new boss down at the club.”
The club? “What can I do for you Mr. Parker? Are you looking for Jen?”
“No, Miss Borello. I was calling to speak to you. Jen said you were looking for work. Is that still true?”
“Umm, yeah… I mean, yes, it is.”
“Excellent,” he replied. “I have a proposition for you then.”
She couldn’t help but think of Christian Grey when he said those words. She hoped bondage wasn’t involved.
“What kind of job are we talking about?”
“I work nights at the club, but I also have a seven-month-old daughter at home. My…wife and I are no longer living together, which makes caring for my daughter and earning a living incredibly difficult, as you can image.”
“Yes, I imagine that is quite tough.”
“Which is where you come in.”
“You want me to babysit?” she asked. The idea was…scary. She loved kids, but they were only an abstract idea to her. She had never had a lot of contact with small children.
“I want you to be her nanny.”
For a full minute, she couldn’t talk. “Nanny?” she croaked.
“Yes. My mother was supposed to come and care for her for the next few weeks until I could find an agency and hire someone, but unfortunately there’s been a family emergency and my mother can’t make it. I’m actually in a really tough spot.”
“Why me?” she blurted out. “You don’t even know me.”
There was a heartbeat of silence. “I know enough. Your full name is Gianna Borello. I know you’re the only daughter of Mani and Marie Borello. I know you were born in upstate New York. You have an academic record that reflects an intelligence that borders on genius levels. You haven’t been in trouble with the law, and you are in your final year of college.”
Gigi was floored. How did he know all this about her? “How—”
“A lot of this is public record,” he said offhandedly. “The other stuff, well, let’s just say I have my sources.”
“I…I…” She couldn’t quite finish her thought.
“I know this is a lot to take in. I’m not a patient man, Gigi. You either want the job or you don’t. What’s it to be?”
“Can I at least come and meet you and your daughter before I decide?” she asked as soon as her brain snapped back into action.
“Yes, of course. Come and meet me in an hour.” He rattled off an address, which she committed to memory. She hung up the phone then put it down onto the bench just as Jen emerged from the bathroom. Gigi turned to stare at her.
“What’s up, Borello?” Jen asked with a grin. She was dressed in a short skirt and midriff top, her hair perfectly blow-dried and styled.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were giving out my number, and to your new boss of all people?”
Jen’s face fell. “Oh, that,” she said. “I guess it slipped my mind.”
“Let it unslip your mind,” Gigi replied with a small snarl.
“Hey, I don’t know why you’re so upset. My boss needs a babysitter. You’re looking for a job. I think it’s the perfect solution.”
No matter how much she wanted to deny it, Jen had made a good point. She did need a job, even if it was for only a few weeks until the internship started…if she got a place on the program, that is.
Snatching her bag from the counter, Gigi kept up the pretence of anger and walked back to her room. She needed to shower and change before going to meet her prospective employer.
*
Gigi peered up at the apartment building where Max had told her to meet him. It was in the meatpacking district, so the exterior looked industrial, but she was sure it was modern inside. Stepping up to the intercom on the wall, she ran her finger down the list of apartment numbers and hit the button she needed.
“Yes?” Max’s voice still had that rich timbre to it, despite the tinny edge.
She cleared her throat. “It’s Gigi Borello,” she said loudly.
There was a buzz.
“Come on up.”
Climbing the stairs up to the fifth floor, she found the right apartment and knocked. She wasn’t sure why, but she was nervous. She swiped her palms on the top of her jeans and let out a short breath. The door swung open. The man standing on the other side made Gigi’s knees weak. His dark hair was artfully messy, his jawline square and strong. His lips were a perfect Cupid’s bow, and her mind turned to fantasizing about what he tasted like.
“Gigi?” he asked.
She nodded. “Max?”
His bourbon-colored eyes gave her a once-over. “Come in.”
She stepped inside his apartment, her eyes immediately drawn to a large modern painting hanging on the wall. They then traveled down to the rug in the middle of the floor where a ba
by was playing in a baby walker.
“Is this your daughter?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied in a clipped tone. He gestured to the couch. “Sit.”
What is his problem? Gathering her small bag into her lap, she sat down on the edge of the leather cushion, not allowing herself to get comfortable. From her first impressions of Max, she didn’t think she’d be there that long.
Standing in front of her, he studied Gigi… No, it wasn’t studying; he was scrutinizing her. Refusing to be cowed by him, she met his intense gaze and raised one brow.
“Do you drink?” he asked.
“No.”
“Do drugs?”
“No.”
“Got a boyfriend?” he demanded.
Her back stiffened. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“I don’t want to come home to you fucking your boyfriend while you’re supposed to be caring for my child. That’s how it’s my business,” he snarled.
He did have a point. If their roles were reversed, Gigi would want to know her child wasn’t being exposed to anything inappropriate. “Fine,” she conceded, her jaw tight as she spoke. “No, I don’t.”
He nodded slightly. “Good.”
When he didn’t ask any more questions, and let silence settle between them, she began to fidget. Max’s eyes slid down to her legs as she crossed and re-crossed them.
“I need to know something else,” he said suddenly.
“Okay.”
“Are you interested in this job or am I wasting my fucking time with you?”
She bit her tongue, took a deep breath and forced her words to come out slowly to conceal her anger. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I only found out about you and your job an hour ago. Jen hadn’t told me she’d given you my number, and she certainly hadn’t told me the job would be as a nanny.”
His lips thinned. “Fine,” he said. “Tell me about yourself now and I can decide whether you’ll be appropriate to be my daughter’s nanny.”
She bristled at his tone and his choice of words. Appropriate? “You know what? I don’t need a job this badly.” She stood and moved to leave, but Max was there already, holding the door shut. Gigi’s heart bounced into her throat. “What are you doing?” she asked, glad her words had come out strongly.
The muscle in his jaw jumped as he looked down at her. She felt like he was seeing past her skin and down into her soul. “I’m…sorry,” he said softly.
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry I’m being an asshole.” Max removed his hand from the door and ran it through his hair. “I’ve had a bad few months and I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. Can you please come and sit down and talk to me and I'll refrain from biting your head off.”
Gigi looked back at the couch, her eyes drifting down to Erin playing happily. She turned back from the door, and she could have sworn he sighed with relief. She was also surprised when he sat beside her.
“Tell me about yourself.”
She looked at her hands. “You already know the highlights. There’s not much more to tell.”
“Tell me something I don’t know, then.”
“Like what?”
“Anything.”
She bit her lip. “I hate PB&J sandwiches—I think they’re just awful.”
Max’s mouth curved up a little in the corner. “You’re insane. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are the cornerstone of my diet.”
“Well, you can keep them then,” she shot back with a smile.
“You’re studying anthropology?”
“Yes.”
Max looked impressed.
“Did you go to university?” She ventured one of her own questions.
His eyes became stormy, his light mood seemingly gone. “Do you have any questions about the position?”
Feeling as if she was walking on eggshells, she carefully replied, “Umm, yes. What’s expected of me, exactly?”
“Ideally, I’d like this to be a live-in position. My hours of work are unpredictable, and if you were living here, it would make everybody’s life a whole lot easier. You’d be responsible for caring for Erin any time that I’m away, which includes feeding, bathing, changing and dressing her. I might also need you to take her to any doctor’s appointments she may have as well as doing some light cleaning and occasionally getting some groceries.”
Gigi nodded. Her job was to be a stand-in mother. “Where is her mother, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I do mind you asking.” She noticed his hands curling into fists. He got up abruptly, and picked up his daughter, holding her close. “Look, I need an answer. Do you want the job or not?”
Did she? Her mother had always told her not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Somehow that didn’t stop her from saying, “I’ve applied for an internship over the summer. If I get it, I won’t be able to work for you as well.”
He frowned. “That’s weeks away. Do you have another job now?” She shook her head. “Then I don’t see what the problem is. Work for me for a few weeks until the internship starts up. That will give me enough time to go through an agency and hire someone to replace you.”
“I—”
Max’s phone rang. Putting up a finger, he stopped her from speaking and answered the call. “Yeah?...What?...No, I’ll come in now.” He hung up and stared at Gigi. “Duty calls, I’m afraid. Can you start now?”
Gigi looked at Erin in his arms. “I’m not saying yes to the live-in position. I can’t leave Jen high and dry without someone else to help her pay rent.” Max’s nostrils flared in irritation. “I can, however, watch Erin for you now until you get back. When do you think that might be?”
“I need to get a plumber to come out after hours. It could take all night. Look,” he raced on when he could see Gigi was starting to second-guess her decision, “I need to know you’ll be here when I get back. I need to know someone is looking after my daughter.”
“You don’t know me,” she muttered, still unable to believe he’d just met her and was trusting her with his child.
“I’m good at reading people,” he said in reply, growling when his phone rang again. He answered the person on the other end in short, sharp, monosyllabic bursts. “Gigi, I really have to go. I’ll pay you two hundred dollars to stay with her.”
Gigi met his eyes. “Keep the cash. I’m staying because you’re stuck.”
He exhaled heavily. “Thank you. We can discuss the arrangement when I get back.” And with that, Max kissed his daughter on the head, passed her to Gigi and left the apartment.
Chapter 7
Max hoped like fuck he wasn’t making a colossal mistake in leaving Erin with Gigi. He had no choice, though. Jeremy had called him once already to tell him a water pipe had burst, and a second time to tell him the basement was flooding. And all of this shit was happening the night before the grand opening. Which fucking god had he pissed off?
Stepping out onto the street, he hauled ass in the direction of the club, his mind working to figure out whom he needed to call and how much it was going to cost him to repair and clean up afterwards. His mind didn’t stay focused on monetary shit for long, though, because it wandered back to Gigi.
She was a beautiful girl, but she hid behind baggy clothing. At first he couldn’t tell the shape of her body, but when she’d looped her bag strap over her head and positioned it on her hip, it had revealed her curves. He didn’t even know why he was noticing. He had sworn off women after what Chelsea had put him through. He’d learned his lesson once; he wasn’t interested in a repeat performance.
When he got to the club, he saw the pavement outside was wet, water streaming away from the building. “Goddamn sonofabitch,” he said under his breath. He shoved open the front door and found Jeremy with a phone pressed to his ear, pacing across the length of the dancefloor.
“Now!” he growled. “We need someone now… If I wait another hour, this whole fucking place will be under water!�
�
Max walked towards the bar, leaning up against it to show Jeremy he was there. The guy looked at him briefly before staring angrily at his feet again.
“We’ll pay whatever we have to. Just get someone down here as soon as possible.” He hung up.
“What the hell happened?”
Jeremy dragged both hands down his face. “I was down in the basement trying to look at the connection to the kegs since the taps weren’t working as efficiently as they should be. I must have hit one of the mains water-pipes when I was working down there. The next thing I know, I’m standing in water up to my knees.”
Max’s eyes drifted down. Jeremy’s jeans were soaked through. “I take it from the phone call that you finally got someone to agree to come down here?” The guy nodded. “Good. Once that’s fixed, we can concentrate on getting the water pumped out of the basement.”
“Any ideas how we’re going to do that?” Jeremy asked, slumping against the side of the bar.
Max did have an idea. Without saying another word, he left the club and walked a block south. The lights were on inside the fire station, but the roller doors were down. Approaching the side door, he pressed the buzzer attached to the intercom.
“Yeah?” a guy asked on the other end.
“Hey. Just wondering if we could get a bit of help here,” Max replied.
“What’s the problem?”
“We’ve got a swimming pool in the basement of our nightclub, and opening night is in less than twenty-four hours.”
There was no response to that. He turned away, thinking it had been worth a try. He turned back when the roller doors started trundling up. A group of four men stood there in NYFD shirts and sweats.
“So where is this club of yours?” one of them asked, and Max recognized him as the one he’d been speaking to.
“West thirteenth and ninth.”
The guy turned to look at the others before turning back to him. “We’ll help you out if you promise us one thing.”