Chapter 2
BEAU
I step out of the elevator and all that greets me is a single door.
A very ornate and intimidating door with the type of carvings on it you’d expect to find in a palace—is that a lion’s head?
!—but there isn’t more than one door because Arik—um, Mr. Anders?
—owns the entire floor. A floor is not an apartment! It’s…
It’s a floor!
I had to check in with the front desk like visiting a celebrity at a fancy hotel and get permission and a keycard swipe to even reach this floor.
Because, naturally, it’s at the very top of the skyrise castle I’m moving into, and letting someone up to this floor is the same as opening the front door.
Only I am still standing in front of the actual door after stepping off the elevator, because there is no way I am just going inside.
I can hear the faint wails of a newborn, so at least I know I’m in the right place.
I ring the doorbell. Even the little song it plays sounds fancy.
The door swings open almost instantly.
“You’re two minutes late,” a petite blond barks at me. I have never seen anyone so perfectly polished and yet so ostentatious in their coloring and pattern combinations.
His pink checkered suit looks more expensive than everything in my suitcase. He is wearing a differently checkered pink, white, and blue shirt, with a dark pink tie speckled with white polka dots.
The blond huffs, rolls his eyes, and grabs me by my collar to haul me inside with significantly more strength than I expected.
“Uh, I am? Sorry, my watch said—”
“Then your watch is slow, and we have a schedule.”
“Be nice, Skylar,” Mr. Anders’ deep voice precedes his entrance, along with the infant he is carrying whose continued wailing says he is not a happy camper.
I am momentarily distracted by just how incredible this place is on the inside, and so far I’m only in the foyer.
It has a foyer.
Everything is very modern chic in mostly neutral tones with occasional pops of color, but beyond the foyer with it’s expensive looking rug and vases on pedestals is what I assume is the living room, since I can see sofas and lamps to my left but also two-story tall windows looking out at the city.
This top-floor penthouse is actually two floors tall!
Billionaire with a big fat “B” is right.
Mr. Anders is wearing another slick dark suit like yesterday, with a crisp white shirt, and this time, a red and blue-striped tie. “Beau, Skylar. Skylar, Beau,” he introduces me to the small blond.
I am distracted this time by just how effortlessly gorgeous he looks but quickly remember I am making a first impression here. “Hi!” I say to Skylar, setting down my suitcase to reach for his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Skylar sort of hums in answer, shaking my hand daintily with just the tips of his fingers like I am some fly that snuck in and he does not want to touch me. “Charmed.”
“Skylar is my personal assistant. And don’t worry, he’s like that with everyone.” Mr. Anders passes me his little bawling bundle of joy, even though I have barely had time to take off my jacket or shoes. Do you take your shoes off in a billionaire’s penthouse? Probably not.
The baby is adorable though, even if he is screaming his lungs out. I couldn’t get a good look at him yesterday. He has black hair like his daddy, and even though he is still pretty squished as a newborn, I can see some of Mr. Anders in his face too. He’s probably going to grow up just as handsome.
“Skylar will put your things in your room. Let me give you a tour before I leave for the day.”
Out of the frying pan, as they say. I bounce the baby as I follow Mr. Anders to the living room, hoping to calm him so I can at least hear this tour and know what the hell I’ll be doing all day—besides the obvious.
“This is all you brought?” Skylar says from behind me, and I glance back to see him grabbing hold of my lone roller suitcase like it is just as distasteful for him to touch as I was.
“I have everything else waiting to be picked up for storage.” To be stored here, in the building’s basement on Mr. Anders’ dime.
Not that I have much furniture or larger items anyway, but it’ll save me hundreds a month, not to mention how much I’ll be saving in rent.
“I didn’t think I needed much given everything Mr. Anders said I’ll have access to here. ”
“Arik is fine, Beau,” Mr. Anders—uh, Arik—calls back to me, and I hurry to catch up to him in the even larger than I first realized living room.
Because wow, the windows are seriously huge, and it’s basically two rooms with two sections!
One has mostly sofas facing a TV half the size of the wall, and one has mostly chairs and a chaise near a fireplace spanning the rest of the wall.
“This is the living room, obviously. And—” Before Arik can lead me into the next area, the baby wails louder.
“Come on, little guy.” I bounce him some more. “I’m not much of a morning person either, but you can’t be this mad this early, can you?”
“Formula is prepared in the kitchen but still a little too hot, and someone is feeling impatient.” Arik comes over and brushes a hand along the top of the baby’s hair, which halts the loudest of his wailing.
It’s sweet, and a little unexpected. Given everything I’ve observed about this guy, I thought he might shy from showing affection, but as he strokes the patch of black hair, he wears a very tender smile.
“Is Daddy like that too?” I ask.
Arik’s sharp eyes flash to mine.
“Sorry!” I cringe. “Poor choice of words.”
“But not incorrect.” Arik grins.
Great, now he’s teasing me.
“But yes, I am often impatient. Especially when hangry.” He nods to the other side of the living room to continue our tour through a separate exit. “Lucky for you, I already ate. Come on, dining room and kitchen are next. Let’s see if that formula has cooled enough.”
At least he isn’t annoyed by my word vomit.
It’s somehow easier to avoid that type of thing in a room full of kids than with adults.
With someone like Arik, I always feel a little lesser, a little lower on the authority totem pole.
Which, since he is my boss, that’s accurate, but he’s also not that much older than me, in some ways my peer.
Well, maybe a thirty-five-year-old billionaire isn’t my peer.
I don’t fit in a place like this. A baby doesn’t either, something that feels more apparent as we continue past a guest bath and through a small sitting room area beside a staircase—because again, two floors.
The dining room and kitchen are equally as extravagant, also with the exterior walls being all windows, which makes this place feel huge.
It is huge, but it feels practically doubled and so clean and stylish.
Not at all baby proofed, just like Arik implied.
Though he has a while yet before he has to worry about crawling and grabby hands.
As we pause in the all-white eat-in kitchen with its giant island to confirm that the formula has indeed cooled, I immediately start on feeding, which is absolutely why the baby was screaming. He looks even cuter happily eating, not yet able to hold the bottle himself.
“This place is incredible,” I say, in no way trying to hide my awe. “I know you run an entire corporation, but what does Anders Enterprises do exactly?”
“Think… Pretty Woman.”
“You’re a prostitute then?” I joke.
Arik snickers. “Cute.”
“Seriously though, Richard Gere’s character was a corporate, um… trader?”
“Raider, to be more precise. I’m not quite that ruthless, but the short of it is that I invest in companies, sell them or pieces of them as necessary, and I always come out ahead and make a profit.
So, as you can see…” Arik is about to lead us out of the kitchen when his phone rings.
“Sorry, I need to take this.” Before answering, he points upward.
“Laundry, master bedroom and bath, and my office with its own private bathroom are all on the second floor. Nothing is off limits unless in use by me. Out this door and to the right, you will find the nursery and what will be your private bathroom, which adjoins your bedroom. I set it up this way so the nursery is closest to you.”
“Makes sense.”
Arik nods that I can continue on my own before answering his call and walking back the way we came in. “Sandra, darling, so sorry I couldn’t answer your texts yesterday. Shall I make it up to you with a late dinner?”
And he’s the usual billionaire playboy to boot. No surprise there. It’s weird that it leaves me with this sourness in my gut, which is silly. He’s rich, charming, and gorgeous. Of course he has an active social life. It’s ridiculous to feel disappointed.
On behalf of the baby! Not for me.
Definitely not for me.
I look down at the still happily eating infant in my arms, and he’s already nearly finished with his bottle. “What do you think, um… huh. I don’t know your name yet. Well, until I do, kiddo, let’s say you and I keep exploring?”
I have a feeling my jaw is going to drop when I see my bedroom.
ARIK
“Sounds perfect, Sandra. See you then.”
I hang up my call, having paced while chatting with tonight’s eventual dalliance all the way back through the living room and into the foyer, where Skylar is waiting with his tablet out, tapping impatiently on his watch.
I nod and hold up a finger as I breeze past him to the right of the foyer and the other entrance to the area with the nursery and guest room. They were both guest rooms until recently, with Beau’s also having doubled as my library. As a teacher, I didn’t think he’d mind being surrounded by books.
I find him in the nursery, settling the baby into his crib. Makes sense he’d fall asleep again after eating. I only had him a few hours before Beau’s arrival. The real test of this is yet to come.
I am about to call out when I see just how sorrowful Beau’s expression is while ensuring the baby is properly swaddled.
He’s smiling, but it’s a sad, grieving smile.
Which is no wonder. He expected to have this experience with his own child.
With his wife and child. I can only hope nannying will be therapeutic for him.
“Everything to your liking?” I rap on the open door.
Beau startles but manages to banish the shadows marring his smile.
“Everything is great. Seriously. I know it was mostly happenstance that we met, but I really appreciate this opportunity. Plus, he is the cutest!” Beau leans over the crib, and the angle hitches his T-shirt up a little.
He must have taken his jacket off in his room.
I told him to dress as casually as he liked.
This is a domestic position, and babies aren’t known for keeping clothes clean.
The little peek of revealed skin also shows off the deep grooves of Beau’s toned hipbones.
There he goes being demurely attractive again, completely unaware of how much he might affect someone.
It is a godsend he’s likely straight.
“Looks like you’re settling in well,” I speak quietly as I join him beside the crib.
“Skylar has your number and will keep you informed of my schedule throughout the day should it change. If you ever need anything, go through him first. He’ll answer faster.
But if you do need me, you have my number too. ”
Just as I finish saying that, Beau stands straighter and pulls his buzzing phone from his pocket.
“I imagine that’s today’s schedule—and another nudge from Skylar that we need to be going.
Remember that you are under no obligation to clean, other than general tidying as necessary.
Gabby, my maid, comes in twice a week. Everything else with taking care of a newborn should be self-explanatory.
When he is napping, feel free to do as you please. ”
I look down at the now peacefully sleeping baby, my son, and lean in to press a kiss to his forehead. Everyone that mentions the intoxicating aroma of a newborn isn’t wrong. It’s like sugar cookies and warm milk at Christmas.
Beau is grinning when I stand back up.
“What?”
“Nothing! Sorry. I don’t mean to have assumed, but big shot billionaire rich guy, I kind of expected you to be cold with your kid. I’m glad I was wrong.”
“Just busy. When it comes to temperature, you will find I am far more often hot.”
Beau’s cheeks darken and he laughs. He is stunning like that.
And I need to stop flirting, or to at least stop enjoying the reaction it causes. Maybe he isn’t as straight as I keep presuming. But even if that’s true, he is still off limits.
“So, um, I didn’t catch this little guy’s name yet,” Beau says.
“Of course. How could I forget? Beau, meet Sebastian Roderick Anders.”
Beau smiles dazzlingly in approval—then snorts. “Wait, Sebastian? Was that your idea or your ex’s?”
“Mine. Why?”
“No reason! It’s just, well… your real name is Ariel. And he’s Sebastian.”
Oh god. “The ink’s still wet. Maybe I can have it changed.”
“No!” Beau laughs a little louder when I make to leave the room but quickly hushes himself to keep from waking the baby. “It’s cute! You should keep it.”
I glance at my son again. He really did look and feel like a Sebastian to me. And no one calls me Ariel—if they know what’s good for them. “How about, to avoid that very silly and unintentional hilarity, we call him Bastian?”
“Like The NeverEnding Story?” Beau perks up again.
“If you insist. Better than making me the Little Mermaid.”
“Oh no.” Beau snorts again. “You’d be Prince Eric. And hey, Arik!”
I resist saying something like, “And instead of a mermaid you’re my dutiful cabin boy?” The warmth in Beau’s eyes and color in his cheeks makes it tempting.
This arrangement might have disaster written all over it whether he’s straight or not.
A sharper rap on the door draws our attention to the hallway.
“Tick. Tock,” Skylar says pointedly. “Also, really? Give me that tie.” He gestures me to him, and I see that in the hand not holding his tablet is a solid red tie that he had not been holding while waiting in the foyer.
It wouldn’t be the first time he rummaged through my closet before we left for the day.
“Do I have spit-up on me already?” I tease, though I immediately begin undoing my striped tie to exchange it for the solid one.
“Might help,” Skylar grumbles. “Here.”
I swap ties, and while I can’t really tell why one is better than the other, I trust Skylar’s opinion, and the solid red does have more power player punch for my meetings today. “Need anything else?” I ask Beau.
“Um… I guess not.”
“Then welcome home. I might be in and out this afternoon, but as far as later in the evening goes, don’t wait up.”
Hopefully, Sandra will help me forget all about my alluring nanny.