The Nanny (A Billionaire Romance)

by Naomi Niles

  He was very close to me again, and when he grazed his hand along my breast, the protruding outline of my nipple showed. My breathing was shallow, and I was trembling now for a different reason. It was clear that I wanted him as much as he wanted me.

  But instead of taking me by force like he could have, Tate took a step back again. "Only when I know for sure that a woman wants me, will I command her to fuck me. If she has no real interest, then I won't demand it of her."

  "But why demand it at all?" I had to know. "You're rich, handsome, charismatic: you could have any woman in the world. Why would you need to hire someone to do it?"

  "Because of everything you just said," he replied, but I didn't understand. Sitting on the edge of his desk, he tried to find the words to explain.

  "I'm a rich, handsome billionaire with countless women throwing themselves at me. They all want to become Mrs. Holland, but my last relationship ended in disaster, and now I've got Halle to think about and protect. I can't bring a parade of girlfriends in and out of her life."

  "But don’t you want to find a woman you could marry someday?" I asked, and he chuckled darkly to himself.

  "That would be even worse."

  "Why is that?" I asked, thinking of how close my parents had been for the sixteen years of their marriage. They had been truly happy up until the day he died. The way my parents had loved each other was an example to me of what true love was, and I vowed that one day I would have that for myself. It seemed Tate hadn't been so lucky.

  His eyes darkened as he said, "If I ever married, Halle would have a step-mother to love and feel attached to."

  "That sounds wonderful," I said, but he disagreed.

  "What would happen if I couldn't make the marriage work? What if I drove her away by being a workaholic, or she had just married me for the money and didn't really love me? Halle would be devastated.

  “She already has to deal with the heartbreak of having a junkie for a mother. I let Missy stay here in the mansion so I can keep an eye on her and make she doesn't hurt Halle, but she has no interest in her own child. Missy doesn't really love and Halle, and she knows it.

  “I've worked hard to surround Halle with a caring staff, but she knows employees come and go. A stepmother would be different, and Halle would want her to be the mother she never had. If things didn't work out, it would break her heart all over again. I couldn't put her through more rejection or pain."

  It sounded to me like Halle wasn't the only one with a scarred heart. Tate had obviously suffered, too. I wanted to say something, but I didn't dare. I just nodded as he kept talking.

  "But, I'm still a man with sexual needs and desires. I'm a practical businessman, so I figured why not handle this like a business matter. I was very attracted to Halle's nanny at the time, and it was obvious she wanted me, too. So I wrote up a contract guaranteeing her an excellent salary in exchange for her satisfying me sexually as part of her duties. The arrangement worked wonderfully, until… well."

  He didn't need to finish the sentence. As he thought of her, his face darkened with pain at the memory, and my heart went out to him. It was obvious from his expression that she had meant a lot to him, and I reached out to touch his hand.

  "It's alright. I think I understand now," I said, even though I wasn't sure that I really did. He talked about making the arrangement in order to separate emotion from sex, but it was clear that hadn’t been the case with Rose. Still, I hated to see him in pain, so I just went along with what he was saying. Smiling, I said, "Business is business, and that's what our sexual relationship will be."

  Clearing his throat, Tate said, "Since you didn't actually read the contract before you signed it, I'll give you a reprieve. You can choose to quit right now without having to pay back the salary you've already earned. Halle and I will both miss you greatly, but I don't feel right forcing you to abide by rules that you didn't fully understand. I only want you to be here if you truly want to be. Tell me, Rachelle Clare, do you accept the position?"

  I couldn't believe it. I had the choice now to leave without any penalty or to stay. If I quit, I would have to find another job, and it would impossible to find one that paid so well, and I really needed the money to pay for Mama's cancer treatments.

  Of course, she would rather suffer than see me sacrifice my morals, but this job didn't feel like a sacrifice. Halle really was a joy to work with and making love to Tate would be an excellent perk. I could still feel the tingles of the many orgasms he gave me and craved more.

  But could I really accept a job where I was expected to have sex with my boss? Under any other circumstances, the answer would be a resounding no, but with Tate, somehow, it didn't sound so deplorable. In fact, it sounded wonderful.

  I wrapped my arms around his strong neck and gently brought my lips to his in a tender kiss.

  "Yes." I smiled up at him. "I accept the position."

  Chapter Twelve: Rachelle

  "What do you two girls have planned for the day?" Tate asked at the breakfast table the following morning.

  Stuart had made an incredible frittata served with fresh sliced fruit. Halle was given a simple scrambled egg and fruit in the shape of a smiley face. The flirtatious banter between Tate and I went right over her head as she played with her food from her booster chair seated between us.

  "Well, I was wondering if your offer to buy me some new clothes for work was still good," I asked.

  "Shit. I'd love to take you shopping, but a damn crisis broke out at one of my factories today, and I've got a ton of shit to do."

  "It's okay that you have to work. I understand." I tried to hide my disappointment, but his next words surprised me.

  "Why don't you take Halle out? The two of you can go shopping together – my treat." He reached into his wallet and pulled out a bunch of hundred-dollar bills. There must have been fifty of them, and he handed them all to me.

  "Will that be enough?" I joked, flabbergasted to be handed so much cash for frivolous spending.

  "If not, tell the store clerk to call me, and I'll make arrangements to pay over the phone."

  "I'm sure this will be enough," I replied. Then I turned to Halle and asked her "Want to have a shopping day with me?"

  "Yes!" the little girl shouted out exuberantly, making Tate and I both laugh.

  Tate had his chauffeur, Scott Roberts, drive us wherever we wanted to go. He had the strong build of a bodyguard, with dark brown hair and eyes that saw everything. I felt safe when I was with him and was grateful that Tate had assigned him to look after me.

  Our first stop was the shops on Rodeo Drive. I'd always wanted to go there. Everything was so lavish and beautiful, like being in Europe. We went to Neiman Marcus, Gucci, and Coco Chanel. In between, we found some great boutiques. The staff in the stores we went to were all so attentive I felt like a princess, and they doted on Halle with her halo of chocolate curls.

  They helped me get fitted for the right sized clothes and were able to tailor anything I wanted that wasn't absolutely perfect. I ended up getting an array of dresses, skirts, and blouses I knew Tate would love, as well as several pairs of shoes and some sexy bras.

  "We have panties that match," one friendly sales clerk offered as she wrapped my new lace bra in tissue paper and placed it in a bag.

  "No thank you," I said, remembering how Tate had asked me not to wear underwear beneath my clothes so he could access me whenever he wanted. The thought made me feel delightfully naughty and just a bit horny. I couldn't wait to get home to see him, but for right now, I had to focus all my attention and energy on Halle.

  We were having a wonderful time together. She was so well behaved and sweet, the sales clerks all loved her. They spoiled her with balloons, lollipops, and free little toys. I bought her several adorable little outfits that matched the clothes I picked out for myself, as well as a pair of shoes and a matching hat that made her look even more precious than before.

  "I'm hungry," Halle whined pitifully. I couldn't bl
ame her. After shopping all day, I was beginning to feel that way myself.

  "Want some French fries?" I asked her, and she nodded enthusiastically.

  "I've heard about a place that makes the best fries." I took her to 208 Rodeo Restaurant, tucked behind the shop we just left. We got a table outside on the terrace with a view of the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, and I felt quite fancy. The food gave us a fresh burst of energy, and we ended the day at the beauty salon, where we got our hair styled and our nails done.

  "You're so pretty," Halle complimented me from her oversized leather chair, where a beauty technician was painting her little toenails bright pink.

  "Thank you. I think you're very pretty, too," I replied, and the little girl's eyes sparkled with joy at the compliment.

  "How old are you?" Halle wanted to know. She was reaching the age of curiosity, so I was happy to help her young mind develop by answering all her questions.

  "I'm twenty-four," I stated simply. "And how old are you?"

  "This many!" Halle held up three fingers, causing the nail technician to accidentally paint a streak of polish across her hand. I had to stifle a laugh so I wouldn't accidentally ruin the manicure I was receiving in my own leather chair.

  As the technician cleaned up the mess with some acetone and a cotton ball, Halle looked at me and said innocently, "Rose was twenty-three. She was pretty, too."

  "She was?" I was taken aback. It was the first time I'd heard her mention the former nanny, and I felt strangely awkward.

  "Rose is gone. She's not coming back," Halle said. I could hear the sadness in her young voice. I wondered if she understood that Rose had been murdered, or if she thought she had simply left. It was hard to know just how much she understood, but I found myself hoping it was very little.

  "I know she is," I said softly. The manicurist was painting tiny flowers on the nails of my left hand, and I suddenly regretted the manicure, wishing I could hug the sweet child. I needed to comfort her and make sure she was okay, so I said to her, "You know it's not your fault. You didn't do anything to make Rose go away, and you couldn't have done anything to make her stay."

  "I know," she said with wisdom in her hazel eyes that looked so much like her father's. Then just as suddenly as it appeared, the seriousness was gone, and childish glee sparkled in its place. Clapping her hands and ruining her nails once more, she cried out, "Can I have ice-cream?"

  The manicurist threw up her hands in defeat, and I couldn't help but laugh. Smiling at the gregarious little girl, I said, "Sure, we can get ice-cream. Let's go."

  I had Stuart take us to Ice Cream Lab where we each had a cone. Halle's was Blue Velvet and mine was Salt Lick Crunch. By the time we were done, Halle's little head began to droop, and she was having a hard time keeping her eyes open.

  "Time to go home for a nap," I said, and as a testament to how tired she was, Halle didn't even complain.

  She was asleep before Stuart even got off Rodeo Drive, and I enjoyed the chance to rest as he took us home. It was nice having a driver, and I leaned back comfortably in the backseat of the car, playing with my cell phone, scrolling through emails and sending texts.

  I tried contacting Julie, Mama's private nurse, to check up on how things were going at home. I knew Mama had doctor's appointment earlier that day, but she would be home by then. There was no response, but I figured they might have gone out for a bite to eat, or perhaps Mama was napping. Either way, I knew they'd contact me if anything was wrong.

  "Look out, Miss Clare. We're approaching the front gate to the house," Scott called back to me from over his shoulder. It struck me as odd because he never did that, so I looked up from my phone and gasped at what I saw.

  A horde of reporters, paparazzi, photographers, and cameramen were blocking the entrance to the mansion. Undeterred, Scott drove slowly forward, moving the car inch by inch through the crowd. It turned out to be a mistake, as we were instantly surrounded, to the point that he was unable to move the car at all. We were trapped.

  Although the windows were tinted, they knew we were back there. The aggressive mob shoved their microphones at the window, shouting out questions, yelling, and flashing camera bulbs. It was a terrifying experience.

  The noise woke Halle from her sleep. Seeing the horde of strangers banging on her car window, shouting out words she didn't understand, terrified the little girl. She was crying hysterically, and I struggled to unbuckle her car seat so I could hold her in my arms. Shielding her from the crowd, I stroked her dark curls and tried to comfort her, while Stuart called up to the house, explaining that we were in trouble.

  "What's happening? Is anyone coming to help us?" I cried out to Stuart when he hung up his cell phone.

  "Yes. Just sit tight and wait for help to arrive. It might be a while," he said gruffly. They were shaking the car now, trying to force me to come out so they could take my picture and get me to answer their questions. I'd never been so scared in my life. What if they tipped the car over? What if they trampled us? No one should have to live like this.

  I was going to have to tell Tate that I quit. This was absolute madness. I needed to be able to come and go from my home whenever I wanted to without the fear of being mobbed. Nothing was worth this.

  Suddenly my cell phone rang, and I answered it with my heart pounding in my throat.

  "Tate? Is that you? Hurry!" I cried into the phone.

  "No, it's Julie." I recognized the voice of Mama's nurse. "Is everything alright? You sound upset."

  "I'm fine," I lied. "Thank you for calling me back, but you could have just texted me. I just wanted to know how Mama's doctor appointment went today."

  "Not good." Julie sighed and gave me all the horrible details. Mama's cancer had spread, and her prognosis was getting worse. She needed an aggressive experimental treatment right away, and it was going to cost a lot of money.

  "Thanks for telling me. I'll send the money to pay for it," I said, sadly and hung up the line. The mob outside was still shaking the car, but it no longer mattered. They were just noise in the distance, and I would get used to them. I had to because there was no way I could quit now, no matter what I had to endure.

  Chapter Thirteen: Tate

  "What do you mean you can't get through the gate?" I asked Scott through the phone. I could barely hear him over the noise in the background.

  He was my best chauffer and an even better bodyguard. He was excellent at assessing dangerous situations and avoiding problems, but this time he'd been taken by surprise – and from the tension in his voice, he was in real trouble.

  Getting up from my desk, I looked out my office window and was shocked by the scene below. A mob had formed outside the security fence surrounding my property, blocking the gate so that no one could get in or out. They had enveloped the car so that Scott couldn't move forward or back. Rachelle and Halle were basically trapped inside, with a horde of reporters pounding on the windows.

  "I'll take care of it. Don't worry about a thing," I said to Scott firmly and slammed down the phone.

  I was pissed as hell. How could a thing like this have happened? What the fuck are all those reporters doing out there? I was putting a stop to this bullshit starting.

  I dialed the phone with angry pushes of the buttons.

  "Brighton Security, how can I help you?" the receptionist answered on the first ring. I told her who I was, and she patched me through to the owner, Pete, immediately. I'd done a lot of business with him over the years, so he knew me well.

  "I need bodyguards sent to my place in Beverly Hills right now." I urgently explained the situation to him, and he promised to send a full team immediately.

  "They're on their way right now," he assured me. I knew I could count on him. His highly-trained bodyguards had protected me at many public events, and some private ones, too. I'd been so impressed by Scott Roberts’ abilities, I'd even hired him full-time.

  I hung up the line and started digging through my desk for the business card Detective Mitc
h Miller had given me the first day he came out to my house when the maid called to report Rose's murder. I found it and dialed the numbers for his private line in the homicide division of the Beverly Hills Police Department.

  "This is Tate Holland, and I demand to know who's talked to the press," I barked into the phone the moment he answered.

  "How the hell should I know?" Miller responded sarcastically. "I'm in the middle of a murder investigation, not a news reporter investigation – or perhaps you'd like it if I changed my focus."

  His cavalier attitude was pissing me off even further. "Look, I've got a mob of reporters outside my home shouting out questions about your investigation. The only way they could know about that is if someone leaked information to the media. I want to know who the hell it was, and I want them fired."

  "A reporter's job is to dig up information. Don't be accusing members of my department of leaking a confidential report just because you don't like being under the microscope."

  "What report?" I ignored the insults meant to distract me and focused in on the one thing he said that was important.

  "I got the forensics report today from the crime lab. It's possible someone may have divulged parts of it the media," he admitted begrudgingly.

  "What were the results of the tests?" I needed to know, but Miller wasn't sharing.

  "I can't divulge any information on an ongoing investigation until all tests are complete."

  "Well, you just said they finished the report."

  "Yeah, but some of the data they got was confusing. They want to run some more tests on some strange fibers they found."

  "Sure. I've got nothing to hide. Run as many tests as you want."

  "I'm glad to hear you say that because I'm coming over now to collect some more samples from your house. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

  "Not now. I've got too much going on with these reporters knocking down my gate. The last thing I need is for them to see cops coming in."

  "Not my problem," he retorted. I struggled to maintain my cool.