20. Fiona
Chapter Twenty
FIONA
My palms are sweating as I take an Uber over to Cormac’s apartment first thing on Saturday morning.
It’s been nothing but radio silence from him since the other night, and I was half-expecting him to turn up at the office on Friday to offer me some sort of explanation. But of course, it’s Cormac, so I was left obsessively checking my phone all day, wondering about where I stood.
I mean, one minute we were on a date, or whatever that was, and he was taking me back to his place and claiming me, and the next, he’s admitting he has a son as he is shoving me out the door.
The dynamic between us has changed so quickly it’s given me whiplash.
Finally, just before I was about to climb into bed last night, my phone buzzed with a text from Cormac, but it brought me little relief.
His message gave away nothing, but clearly, whatever it is he needs to talk about is important enough that it couldn’t wait until Monday morning.
Unless, of course, this has nothing to do with work and everything to do with the fact he has a son.
It makes sense, the secret phone calls and last-minute trips out of town.
And I hate to admit that I’m a little relieved that it turned out he has a secret child rather than a secret girlfriend. Then again, I have no idea if the mother is even in the picture or not, considering how secretive Cormac is, which adds a whole other layer of complexity to the situation.
Maybe that’s what he wants to talk to me about. Maybe he regrets taking things out of the office, and now that his son might be in the picture, he wants to pull back.
I know I can’t let that happen, but I don’t see how I can stop it.
Whatever is going on with Cormac and me already has the ability to backfire massively, but now that I know a kid is involved, it makes me even more uneasy.
Especially considering what happened the last time I got caught up with people like Lorcan and Cormac.
My nieces ended up without a mother, and regardless of whether Cormac is good or bad, no child deserves to lose a parent.
I’m a few minutes away from Cormac’s place when my phone buzzes with a call from Lorcan.
“Great…” I slide my thumb across the screen.
“You better have something for me,” Lorcan states the second the call connects.
“Couldn’t you even give me a good morning or anything?”
“It’s up to you whether it’s a good morning or not. You better have something for me.”
My stomach knots as I think of Cormac’s child.
Is that the sort of information Lorcan is after? He is family, so he should know, right?
“Considering the fact you still haven’t told me what it is I’m trying to find out, I have nothing for you.”
Whether he knows it or not, and regardless of my debt, I’m not about to hand over an innocent child.
“I need you to gain Cormac’s trust. How you do that is up to you. I’ll be checking in soon to give you your next instructions.” Then he hangs up.
I glance out of the window at the snowy sky as I think of how much fun I had at dinner with Cormac the other night.
The harder I try to fight my attraction to him, the stronger it seems to grow. Even in the twenty-four hours since then, I’ve found myself missing him.
I’m walking a very dangerous line.
If I gain Cormac’s trust like Lorcan asks, it might end up being the biggest mistake of Cormac’s life.
When the Uber pulls up outside Cormac’s building, I quickly climb out and hurry inside as the snow starts to fall. But I quickly stop dead in my tracks as I stare around the grand lobby, complete with a chandelier and marble flooring.
I never got to see it last time, so I take a moment to gawk at how fancy it is.
“Can I help you?”
I jump as a woman appears behind the reception desk. Her bright red lipstick is striking against her almost-white blonde hair.
“Hi, uh…I’m here to see Cormac Sullivan?”
The woman’s eyebrows shoot up, but she quickly recovers her expression as she taps away on her keyboard.
I frown, wondering if it’s because Cormac doesn’t have many visitors or if I’m not the usual type he does have.
For my own ego, I hope it’s the former.
“Name?”
“Fiona Callahan.”
The woman clicks a few more times on her keyboard before picking up her phone. “I just need to confirm.”
I wait awkwardly while she calls up to the penthouse.
She glances at me again before hanging up the phone and offering me a forced smile. “Let me show you to the private elevator.”
“Thank you,” I say a little smugly.
The moment the doors slide shut and I ride the elevator up to the penthouse, my pulse starts thrumming in my ears.
I have no idea what I’m about to walk into. Am I going to be fired or come face-to-face with the mother of Cormac’s child, demanding answers for why I’ve been sleeping with him for the past couple of weeks?
When I eventually reach the top floor and the doors open, I’m a sweaty, panicking mess.
“Good, you’re here,” Cormac says by way of greeting.
He’s over in the kitchen, grinding beans for coffee.
Even though it’s seven a.m. on a Saturday, he’s immaculately dressed in a black shirt and slacks.
I’m a little disappointed to see he’s returned to being his usual formal self. All traces of the man who bent me over the couch and fucked me are gone.
I step out of the elevator and cross over to the kitchen, trying my hardest not to glance at the couch. The last thing I need right now is to be turned on.
“Do you want a coffee?” he asks without looking at me.
“Sure.”
While Cormac has his back to me, I look around the living area again.
It looks exactly like it did the last time I was here, which makes me frown.
I was half expecting there to be an explosion of stuffed animals or maybe even a stroller, but there’s nothing.
He hands me my coffee. “Here.”
I eagerly wrap my hands around the mug just to keep my hands busy. “So…how are you?”
This shouldn’t be awkward. I mean, the man has had his face buried between my thighs. And yet, he can’t even look at me.
Shit.
He regrets what happened. It’s written all over his face. That’s why I’m here. Maybe he thinks having this conversation away from the office will make things easier.
I wish my stomach didn’t sink at the thought of never getting to experience that side of Cormac again, the one who both worships and devours my body like it’s his own property. But it does.
“I’m fine,” Cormac grunts.
I start, so consumed by my thoughts that I had forgotten I had asked him a question.
“Were you in LA?”
“Yes.”
It seems we’re back to the one-word answers, so I wait, letting the silence settle as he finishes making his espresso.
But even when Cormac takes his coffee and walks over to the couch without a backward glance, I find myself wanting to scream at him.
He has the audacity to call me here on a Saturday morning after the news breaks that he has a son, but doesn’t even have the decency to explain why?
Screw the espresso.
Where the hell is the tequila?
I follow Cormac over to the couch and take a seat beside him, feeling my cheeks warm as I remember what happened the last time we were on this couch. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.
It doesn’t help that there is still a dull ache between my thighs from how hard he took me.
I cross my legs. “Is your son here?”
“He’s upstairs.”
“You never mentioned you had a son.”
Cormac eyes me closely, his face a cold mask.
“There was no need for you to know.”
“But there is now?”
“Yes.”
Apparently, we’re playing twenty questions this morning.
“Why?”
“The reason I called you over here is to inform you that your job description has changed.”
“Changed?”
“Yes.”
“Okay… changed how?”
Is this the part where he fires me? Because that would sure as hell be a change to the job description.
“You’ll be moving in here as of today.”
I almost spit my coffee out. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You will be helping take care of my son.”
What the hell did he put in my coffee to make me hallucinate such a ridiculous conversation?
“Again, what?”
“I appreciate the short notice, but there’s nothing I can do about that.”
I stare at him.
Did I really hear him right? Did he really say that I’m moving in with him and becoming his…nanny?
Seriously, where is the tequila?
Until yesterday, Cormac had made his feelings about having me around pretty clear. Our relationship outside of work was to be purely physical, nothing more. But now he wants me to help look after his son? This implies a level of trust well beyond just secretly hooking up.
Then again, he was the one who insisted on taking me out to dinner and brought me back to his place, and if it wasn’t for the phone call about his son interrupting us, I wonder if I would have ended up staying the night…
“So, you want me to be your nanny?”
“Of sorts, yes.”
“Okay…”
“I appreciate it’s a little different from what I’ve asked of you so far.”
“Just a little. I mean, changing diapers is very different from alphabetizing files.”
Cormac’s lips twitch.
“Don’t worry, there won’t be any diapers involved.”
“Why, is your kid some kind of ridiculous high achiever who is potty-trained at three months old?”
Cormac’s eyes dance with amusement as he glances at me, and I finally catch a glimpse of the man behind the mask.
“He’s five.”
“Oh…”
It pisses me off that he immediately assumes I’ll be all right with this.
Fake or not, I interviewed for a position as a personal assistant, not a nanny.
Does he think he can wave enough dollar bills at me, and I’ll drop to my knees with gratitude?
Who am I kidding? It doesn’t matter how I feel because I have to say yes regardless.
At the very least, moving into Cormac’s place will sure as hell gain me the in that I need to get the information that Lorcan is after, and if entertaining a five-year-old is how I can finally be free of my debt, then so be it.
“I’ll do it on one condition.”
Cormac raises a brow but stays silent.
“I want a significant pay raise, and I want my own room. I’m not one of those nannies who shares with the kid. That’s weird.”
“Fine—”
“And I won’t stand for you treating me the way you do at work. Not if we have to live together.”
I set my untouched coffee down on the table and sit back against the cushions, folding my arms across my chest.
A faint smile tugs at the corners of Cormac’s mouth as he watches me.
“My terms aren’t up for negotiation,” I add in case he hasn’t got the message.
“You don’t like the way I’ve been treating you?”
My mouth goes dry as my eyes flick over Cormac’s body, his long limbs so powerful and yet elegant at the same time.
I ache to reach out and touch him, to feel his hands on my skin, to taste myself on his tongue?—
I look away as my cheeks burn. “You know what I mean.”
He throws his arm over the back of the couch. “Fine. I accept your terms. You will move in on Monday, which gives Scout a few more days to settle in here first.”
Scout?
“I didn’t pick you as a To Kill a Mockingbird fan.”
“I would also like you to come for dinner tomorrow night.”
Why does this feel like less of a request and more of an order?
“Okay, sure.”
“My brothers will be in attendance also.”
I really need to start taking up day drinking. “Your brothers?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“N-no, of course not.”
It feels like less of a problem and more of a death sentence, considering the fact I’m secretly working with Lorcan.
I guess I’m just going to have to put on the performance of a lifetime.
Otherwise, I can kiss goodbye to my freedom and, more importantly, my life.