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    Billionaire's Nanny
    Billionaire's Nanny
    Billionaire's Nanny
    Ebook126 pages1 hour

    Billionaire's Nanny

    By Paisley Summer

    ()

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    About this ebook

    The job is simple. Look after his kid. Not fall for my twenty years older boss.

     

    He's my employer. I'm a nanny to his son. That's where it must stay.

    Except...it doesn't.

    I can't resist his dark eyes staring right into my soul.

    I want his large hands to hold my body. I want his lips to taste mine.

    His presence drives me...crazy.

    But does he feel the same? Or am I just imagining it all?

    I guess it's time to finally learn what I've signed up for.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPaisley Summer
    Release dateDec 2, 2022
    ISBN9798215176009
    Billionaire's Nanny

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      Book preview

      Billionaire's Nanny - Paisley Summer

      CHAPTER 2:

      Jacob

      Being a CEO isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. For one thing, you have to spend time with a lot of unpleasant and boring people and learn to fake a laugh like the rent’s due. At my level, you’d think all that would be behind me, but no.

      Case in point, my PA, Sylvia, just reminded me of a dinner I have with the local union PA-general. Chicago is run by several mobs and the Unions are one of the biggest. If I didn’t keep this guy happy, my operations could be significantly impacted by arbitrary strikes over resolvable issues. Sean Anthony gets on my last nerve though. He has his own ideas about what my life looks like. In his fantasies, there are more flashy girls and flashier cars than I’ve ever seen outside of a Fast and Furious movie.

      Dinner’s at seven, sir. I booked Mastro’s Steakhouse, Sylvia reminds me primly. She fancies herself the Pepper Potts to my Iron Man only without all the screeching and sexual tension. That includes calling me ‘sir’ no matter how many times I ask her to call me Jacob.

      Thank you, Sylvia. I appreciate the reminder.

      I also ordered a limo to transport you there.

      I heave a tired breath. Sylvia is all about the image and my six-year-old Range Rover does not make the cut for how a CEO should draw up at a business dinner. Did you at least make it a Hummer limo? Preferably in purple?

      She just wrinkles her nose at me and walks out of my office.

      So much for that.

      I scoop up my jacket. I want to rush home before dinner and spend some time with my son. After all, who knows how far into the night my dinner might run. Sean Anthony likes to live the high fantasy life. It makes him feel like one of the movers and shakers.

      It is a small price to pay to ensure my customers receive their goods on time.

      I make my way out of the office, waving to Sylvia as I pass her by.

      Don’t forget! she yells after me as I walk away. I wave a hand to let her know that I hear her.

      Jumping into my Range Rover, I’m thankful that I don’t live too far away because the traffic in Chicago can get tricky during rush hour. I’m glad that I don’t have to drive to the restaurant because if I did, I would arrive irritated and stressed. That will not help me to show Sean a good time.

      Daddy! Buddy comes hurtling out of the house as I turn into the driveway and park the car.

      With a huge smile on my face, I alight my vehicle and scoop him into my arms. My mood improves instantly. We hug like we haven’t seen each other for ten years instead of ten hours. I would never imagine having a kid can bring so much joy into my world. But Buddy is everything to me.

      His hair falls adorably into his eyes, and he flicks it away impatiently. Can we go for a ride? he asks sweetly.

      My mouth turns down with regret. I’m afraid not. I don’t have time right now. Tomorrow. Promise.

      The thing about Buddy is he does not pout or otherwise sulk in any way, but you still feel his disappointment keenly. He shimmies down to the ground, and I let him go gently. His head down he walks back into the house. I follow him already trying to think of a way to cheer him up. I remember the puzzle book I bought him in the morning, and go back to the car for it. The clues are all mathematical problems, so I think he will enjoy it immensely.

      I got you something Buddy, I sing-song, waving the book up and down.

      He stares up at me, disinterested until he catches sight of the book and then his eyes light up.

      What’s that? he asks, reaching for it.

      It’s a puzzle book. You have to solve some math problems to get the answers.

      He veritably beams at me, snatching the book out of my hands.

      Thank you, Dad! he cries before running off to his nook, where he has his little desk and his little chair, his tablet and his desk lamp, a little Persian carpet, and a pair of headphones all surrounded by a mini white picket fence with a tiny gate put in so he can shut himself in if he wants. It’s his little corner of the living room, and nobody can go in without his express permission.

      I sigh with contentment watching him bury his head in the puzzle book, knowing he probably won’t emerge until he’s done with it. I turn to his nanny. So how was the day?

      She nods, looking stressed. He was a bit high strung at lunchtime, wanted to count the peas before he ate them, but other than that we had no problems.

      I nod slowly while frowning. I don’t like the way she speaks about my son as if he’s an issue to be managed and not a child to be nurtured. Finding good help is hard though. Still, I’m actively searching. There has to be somebody out there who can give my son exactly what he needs. Money is no object; I’m willing to pay through the nose. So far, however, I haven’t found that unicorn I’m looking for.

      Buddy? I call to him, but I’m surprised when he looks up. I have a business dinner. I might be home late. Can I come and kiss you on the forehead if you’re already asleep?

      He frowns at me, If I’m already asleep I won’t know if you come.

      I smile. I think you’ll feel it in your dreams.

      He looks suspiciously at me as if I might be making fun of him. It makes my heart sad to know that he’s already aware that not everybody understands his autism, and that people can be very mean.

      I’m serious, I say, not smiling. If it won’t disturb you too much, I’d appreciate it if you would allow me to come and give you a kiss when I get back.

      The furrow in his brow clears. Okay, Daddy. You can come and kiss me if you want. I won’t be angry.

      Thank you, Buddy. Can I kiss you now, too?

      He turns back to his book. No. But you can kiss me when you’re leaving.

      The urge to ruffle his overgrown brown hair is strong, but I refrain because he doesn’t like it. Checking my watch, I see that I have less time than I need to get ready. I’ll have to skip the shower.

      Eh, it’s not like Sean will notice.

      I quickly change into a pair of black jeans, with a dove-gray silk shirt, and a velvet jacket in navy blue. I add a blood-red handkerchief to my pocket and a red tie to my throat. I finish off the look with a pair of leather loafers and call it an outfit. I study myself in the mirror, smiling in amusement at the caricature of a rich dude that stares back at me.

      Picking up one of my navy velvet scrunchies, I tie my hair in a low ponytail. There’s no time to smooth it down or gel it, so Sean will just have to take me as I am. Brushing my day-old stubble into some semblance of neatness, I grab my wallet and keys and leave my room.

      I walk up to Buddy’s little picket gate and knock. May I come in?

      He looks up at me and smiles, nodding his head. I open the gate and enter his little sanctuary bending down to rain kisses down upon his face. I’ll miss you, I say between kisses, I’ll see you later.

      Bye Dad. He gives me a little wave as I leave.

      The limo is waiting for me outside, the driver standing with the door open. I slip inside and settle back into the soft comfortable leather seats, trying to prepare myself to be as pleasant as possible. I focus on what I can look forward to - the steaks. Maybe I’d have the lobster too.

      I’m a hardworking man - I deserve it.

      We arrive at the restaurant way too soon, I’m not ready yet. Still, I alight the vehicle, take a deep breath, and walk into the restaurant. The maître-d’ smiles at me as I stop in front of her and give my name. My table is ready, and Sean has not arrived yet. I have a few minutes, so I order a brandy to gas myself

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