Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Oh my god!
Without looking up at him, I picked up the head and snapped it back onto the body. Then I carried it back to the table as if nothing happened.
Stretching the fabric again, I wrapped it around the doll’s waist and gently secured the ends with my tightest folds.
“Interesting.” Mr. Nameless picked it up. “Minus the instant decapitation and the fact that I’d sue you down to your last dime if you ever dropped my child, you did a good job with this diaper.”
“Okay…” I was embarrassed as hell. “Thank you.”
“What’s your least favorite children’s book?” he asked.
“My least favorite?”
“This isn’t the parrot game, Miss Hawthorne.”
“It would have to be The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein.” I could still quote that book by memory, and I hated every word. “Hands down.”
“Why?”
“There’s no plot.”
“I beg to differ.”
“The tree just gives and gives to the little boy until he’s nothing more than a stump,” I said. “He spends his entire life serving someone who grows up constantly taking from him, and in the end he dies alone.”
“I think you need to reread that story…” His lips curved into a smile, but he didn't let it stay. “What’s your favorite children’s book?”
“I have too many to count, but I like The Little Blue Engine That Could.”
“Do you speak any foreign languages?”
“French.”
“Is that it?”
“I’m decent with Spanish and Italian, but not good enough to be considered fluent.”
“Are you in a serious relationship?”
“I don’t see why that’s any of your business, sir.”
“You’re here because you want to be a full-time nanny, and I expect you to work seven days a week,” he said. “If you’re in a serious relationship, you might put your boyfriend before me.”
“You mean, before your children?”
“Isn’t that what I said?”
Silence.
“Where do you currently live?” he asked.
“In an apartment.”
“In what part of town, Miss Hawthorne?”
“Brooklyn.”
“Hmmm. You can leave my house now.”
“That’s it? That’s the end of the entire interview?”
“Yes. Unless you would like a complimentary gift bag.”
“If you have one, then yeah, that would be—” I stopped, realizing he was being sarcastic. “Thank you for your time, Mister…?”
He still didn’t give me his name.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “By the way, one of my favorite children’s books is The Giving Tree.”
Of course, it is.
“Have a good afternoon. The agency will call if I'm interested in you.”
“Interested in me for this job, or for something else?” I asked.
“Come again?” He looked stunned at my question.
“Well, the way you said ‘in you’ and the way you stared at me when I got here, but maybe it was just me, so I’m not implying anything, you see—”
“Goodbye, Miss Hawthorne.” He shut the door in my face.
FOUR
PIERCE
What the hell just happened?
I waited until Harlow Hawthorne was tucked away in a descending elevator before walking away from the front door.
The pink box she’d left behind had to be a bribe of some sort, but I couldn’t help opening it.
A dozen pink and blue unicorn cupcakes.
Thanks to Olivia’s weekly order of sweets, I’d learned a bit about what made a perfect custom cupcake, and these were easily the best I’d ever seen.
With creamy layers of tinged frosting and glitter, and the little handcrafted horn things, she probably thought these would win over my children. Hell, she probably spent fifty dollars each on these, but she was an automatic no.
Hell no.
All I could think about was her wrapping her pink pumps around my waist, splaying her against my desk, and making her scream my name at the top of her lungs.
And that was before she came upstairs for the official interview.
Between her long wavy blond hair, pouty pink lips that seemed to never stop moving, and her beautiful almond eyes, she was the sexiest woman I’d ever seen.
But the last thing I needed was a live-in temptation.
I’d hired six nannies so far, and not a single one lasted more than a week. Despite trying multiple hiring agencies, I couldn’t find the right fit.
To make matters worse, with all the turnover, I couldn’t handle working from home; that shit didn’t work for me.
The twins refused to sleep at the same time, their poop had ruined ten of my best suits, and their feeding schedules hadn’t been in sync since the day I brought them home.
Walking to their nursery, I peered through the door and saw my adoptive mother—Mama Raya—rocking Charlotte in a chair while William giggled at her feet.
I’d begged her to stay here in New York and serve as my nanny—even offered to buy her a new condo, but she declined by laughing in my face.
“I’m done raising children,” she’d said. “I’m living my best retired life now.”
“Uncle Brooks?” Olivia moved next to me, her mouth full of unicorn cupcake crumbs.
“Yes?”
“Can I go up to the roof and read for a while?”
“Of course.” I nodded. “Wait a minute. I thought your mom was picking you up today?”