12. A Sharkan Evil Cannoli?
A SHARK OR AN EVIL CANNOLI?
WILLOW
I have never been so mortified in my entire life. And one thing’s for sure—I’m officially boycotting these towels. I don’t care if it means wasting an entire linen closet full of them. No more risking another one of Captain Lick’s possessive antics.
Focus, Willow. Towel-related PTSD can wait.
Right now, I need to face this humiliation head-on, because there’s literally no other way out.
I lift my eyes, doing my best to erase the last few minutes from my memory. We’re not talking about what just happened. Ever. Period.
“You came to say something,” I prompt, trying to steer the conversation back to the land of normal.
“Yes. Yes,” Raymond repeats, like he’s scrambling to reset the vibe.
Thank God it’s awkward for him too.
His eyes drift around the room, and I follow his gaze. The lavender bedding, the dainty cream-colored bed frame, the powder-blue accents on the otherwise white carpet. It’s almost shocking that a room this feminine exists in Raymond Teager’s house, not at all what you’d expect from the infamous brooding bachelor.
“Do you mind coming back to the garden for a few minutes? I need to say something.”
“Yeah, sure.” I nod, probably more times than necessary—anything to end this nightmare a little faster.
“Okay, I’ll wait while you get…” His words trail off, and I can practically see the verbs dancing through his mind— dressed, decent, clothed —all left unsaid.
Raymond spins around, and just as I let out a shaky breath of relief, he whistles again. I can’t freaking believe my eyes as Captain Lick, my own dog, trots after him like they’re lifelong pals, completely abandoning his loyalty to me and cozying up to my biggest business rival. That damn traitor.
Please, God, let this entire night be some twisted dream I’ll wake up from, and preferably soon.
As he reaches the doorway, Raymond glances back over his shoulder, that irritating grin slowly making a reappearance. “I’ll take him outside. We don’t want any more accidents.”
Before I can even think of a reply, he’s gone, leaving me standing here with my pride in tatters and the faint memory of his cocky smile burned into my brain.
Minutes later, I make my way down the stone path, lit by tiny solar lights hidden beneath the rhododendron bushes. The soft glow leads me to the pergola, where Raymond is already seated, looking entirely too comfortable under the twinkle of fairy lights tangled with green vines.
On the table in front of him is a wooden tray with two mugs of steaming hot cocoa and a bottle of Advil. For me?
“ You made hot cocoa?” I ask, eyeing the foam with a dusting of chocolate powder on top.
He snickers. “Don’t sound so surprised. I can navigate a kitchen.”
I blink, trying to process this latest addition to his résumé of annoying perfection. Of course the man who looks like he belongs in an Armani ad can also whip up comforting drinks like some kind of Hallmark movie hero.
“Good to know,” I murmur. “But I pegged you as more of a whiskey guy.”
Raymond leans back in his chair, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin. “Should I be worried that my new nanny is already asking for booze on her first day?”
Without missing a beat, I cross my arms and give him a pointed look. “And here I thought you were trying to patch things up.”
“Shit. Sorry.” His grin vanishes as quickly as it came. He rakes a hand through his hair, looking genuinely remorseful for once. “I swear, it never happens with anyone else. But with you? It’s like every word out of your mouth is bait I can’t resist.”
This time, my chuckle is one hundred percent real. “Trust me, I get it. The way you handled him earlier—it was impressive.” I nod toward Captain Lick, who’s now acting like a model canine citizen, curled up contentedly beside Raymond’s feet.
“I thought he wasn’t much of a walker.”
“He saves up all his energy for chaos at least once a week.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Once a week?”
“Don’t worry,” I say with a playful grin, leaning into the rare moment of having the upper hand. “I don’t make a habit of flashing random men who happen to loiter around my room.”
He presses his lips together, smirking. “Point taken.” Then he nudges the wooden tray toward me, waiting for me to take the first sip before even touching his own mug.
“So, do I pass?” he asks, as I take a slow, deliberate sip of the cocoa.
I drag out the moment, making a big show of sipping before finally giving in. “Hmm. Not bad.”
Raymond chuckles, shaking his head. He knows it’s more than “not bad.” The cocoa has a hint of nutmeg and cinnamon—definitely not your average instant mix. I might not know my way around a kitchen, but I grew up with a mom who can cook circles around the best chefs.
“Unfortunately, there’s no booze in the house,” Raymond says, breaking through my cocoa-induced trance.
“Wait…why?”
“Quill doesn’t like the smell of alcohol,” he replies, as if that explanation alone makes any sense.
I stare at him, waiting for the punchline, but it never comes.
“So…what do you do? Run to a bar every time you feel like a drink?”
He shrugs. “I don’t drink.”
“You don’t drink? Like…at all?”
“Yup. Haven’t touched a drop in six months. Not since Quill came into my life.”
My jaw practically hits the floor.
Six months?
Admiration creeps in before I can stop it, mingling with surprise. I mean, I walked into this house expecting an arrogant, cutthroat businessman—and yeah, that guy is still here. But there’s also this other side— a dad willing to give up something as simple as a drink because his daughter doesn’t like the smell. And it hits me right in the feels.
Earlier, when I stomped into that shower, I was fuming, convinced Ray was a colossal jerk trying to make me feel like an outsider in his own home. But once the steam cleared and my brain caught up, I remembered the look on his face—agitated, frustrated, and maybe a little scared.
The man who takes down business titans is also a dad, terrified of losing his little girl.
And now, I’m curious. What other sacrifices has he made for his daughter? Beyond giving up alcohol and inviting the one person he once despised—and maybe still does—into his home?
“So, what I wanted to say was…I’m sorry,” Raymond begins, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard. “For everything I said. I didn’t mean any of it.”
“I think you meant some of it.” I’m not about to let him wiggle out of this that easily.
My feelings toward this man are like a carnival ride—one moment I’m glaring at him, and the next, I’m admiring him. The back-and-forth is exhausting.
He lets out a sigh, shoulders slumping, and runs a hand through his dark hair, tousling it in that irritatingly perfect way. “Alright, maybe I meant a little of it.”
I nod, giving him space to continue.
“But when it comes to Quill, I just…I’m…”
“Protective?” I offer, sensing his struggle to find the right word.
He nods, his eyes softening. “Yeah, protective.”
Raymond stands up, turning his back to me and looking out into the night sky, as if it might help him find the right words. His tall frame is silhouetted against the glow of the fairy lights, and for once, he looks so vulnerable.
“When she first came into my life, I had no idea how much it would change everything. How much I’d love being her dad. Quill’s been through more than any kid her age should have to deal with. I want to protect her from anything—everything—that could hurt her. I don’t just want to make up for the years she didn’t have a real parent. I want to overcompensate.” He finally turns back to face me, rubbing the back of his neck like it’s his personal reset button. “Sorry, I’m rambling. This probably doesn’t make any sense.”
I shake my head, my throat tight, words momentarily lost. My heart feels like it’s about to burst, full of emotions I’m not even sure I can name. For the first time since I met Raymond Teager, I’m genuinely happy for Quill. I was about her age when my mom packed us up and moved us to my grandparents’, leaving her husband behind. Childhood scars don’t fade easily, but with the right kind of love, the pain can soften.
“What you’re doing for her…it’s incredible. Quill’s really lucky to have you as her dad.” I hug my knees to my chest, trying to keep my emotions in check because there’s too much swirling inside me right now.
Raymond lets out a long breath, the relief clear on his face. “I think I’m the lucky one and I’m glad you’re not mad at me anymore. You’re not, right?”
And just like that, the pendulum swings again.
I shake my head, still grappling with the fact that Raymond—the man I thought I had all figured out—just hit me with a tidal wave of unexpected vulnerability. It’s messing with my head, stirring up emotions I try to bury deep. But while I’m no longer fuming, I can’t let what happened earlier slide.
“I’m not upset, Raymond.” I keep my tone firm but not harsh. “But you can’t ever speak to me like that again. It’s unacceptable. And I hate that your words drag out a version of me I don’t like. If you have an issue with how I’m handling things, I need you to address it professionally and respectfully. I want to help you with Quill, but I won’t lose my self-respect in the process. You hired me, not purchased me.”
He holds up his hand. “You’re right. I really let my mouth run off today—big-time.”
“It’s fine.” I sigh. “And I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean everything I said either.”
A small smile tugs at his lips, and I can feel a truce settling between us. “Good to hear. But since we’re talking about work…” He pauses, clearly gearing up for something. “I’ve got some news. My company, Elixir Estates, is going to invest in your new wedding estate.”
“W-what?” I blink, my cocoa cup wobbling in my hand before I quickly set it back on the table. “But you literally told me you don’t do ‘cozy and rustic.’” His words from that day at La Bella Vita still echo in my mind.
Raymond’s lips press into a thin line. “Apparently, everyone in my life has an incredible memory.” He must notice the confusion on my face, because he adds, “You’re not the only one who reminded me of my previous thoughts on the subject.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
He shrugs like he hasn’t just turned my entire world upside down. “It’s smart business, a strategic move to diversify our portfolio.”
I wait for the giddy excitement to hit me. This is the break I’ve been waiting for. But instead of joy, something else settles over me, an unsettling feeling that somehow, I’m getting more out of this arrangement than we bargained for. That maybe I’m using him.
I meet his gaze, feeling a strange little flip in my stomach. “I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret later.”
Raymond’s eyes narrow slightly, his expression slipping back into that cool, collected businessman I’ve come to know these past few months—the one who keeps his life in a neat little box, with no room for surprises. It’s a stark contrast to the man who’s been catching me off guard tonight, showing cracks in his perfect armor. Cracks I might’ve peeked into. Cracks I might’ve liked.
“I know exactly what I’m doing, Willow.” His voice has that firm, no-nonsense edge, and it almost settles me. Almost. “You weren’t wrong when you called me selfish. In business, I am. I don’t invest in sinking ships. If I wanted to give you a handout, I’d have written you a check and been done with it.”
I bite my lip, trying to digest that. “You’re sure about this?” I ask, slower this time, needing more than his business pitch.
He arches a brow, that familiar challenge flickering in his eyes. “You’ve known me for a while now. My personal life might be off-limits, but your judgment’s been spot on about me as a businessman. I’m not the good guy here. I’m as much of an evil shark as you thought I was—if not more.” His grin turns wicked, like he’s daring me to match his energy.
A little laugh slips out, which honestly comes out as more of a cough. “I never said you were evil.”
“Don’t start softening up on me now, Miss Pershing,” he fires back, leaning in a bit. “I need that fire, the same one that’s given me more headaches than my entire board of directors combined. Elixir Estates has a reputation to uphold, and your first task is convincing my shareholders that I’m not a complete idiot for shifting gears from luxury hotels to a cozy wedding estate. My team will help you prep for the pitch. So what do you say? Is my new business partner ready to roll?” He extends his hand, eyes locking on to mine.
My brain tells me he’s saying all this to make me feel more secure, but right now, I’ll take it. “She sure is,” I say, gripping his hand.
“Good. Now, take those before you go to sleep.” He nods toward the pills. Just as he’s about to step away from the pergola and walk back into the house, I call after him.
“Raymond?”
“Yes, Willow?” He glances back over his shoulder.
“What about him?” I nod toward Captain Lick, who’s sitting like a furry little statue, waiting for his next command.
Raymond doesn’t miss a beat. “Release, Cap. Go to Willow.”
My dog perks up and trots over to me, tail wagging like he’s been on Raymond’s side all along.
* * *
It’s eerily quiet. That’s my first thought as I open my eyes. No hum from my refrigerator, no background noise, just a thick, unnerving silence. I reach for the switch on my nightstand, only to realize, as far as I dangle off the bed like a loose puppet, I’m not touching anything familiar. My fingers graze something smooth—not the crocheted tablecloth my mom insisted I needed because, apparently, all my apartment was missing to make it “feminine” were crocheted fabrics and pink china teacups, which she’s convinced would magically fix my nonexistent dating life.
And just like that, it all comes crashing back. I’m not in my apartment.
Nope. I’m in Raymond Teager’s house.
I let that sink in for a second, and to really pile it on. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since I turned my life upside down, going from being a B&B owner to…a nanny?
Images from the evening flash in my mind—Raymond’s piercing gaze, Quill’s shy smile, the quiet moments in this big, unfamiliar house. Just as I start thinking about the unexpectedly human side of Raymond Teager, panic slams into me.
Holy crap! I forgot to set an alarm.
Aren’t nannies supposed to be up at the crack of dawn, bright-eyed and ready to get their charge prepped for school?
Off to a spectacular start, Wills.
After giving Raymond my whole “I’m trying so hard to be a decent nanny” speech, oversleeping feels like slapping myself in the face with my own words. The old Raymond would’ve had me packing my bags in two seconds flat. But what will this newer version of Raymond do? Only one way to find out.
That seems to be the theme of my life right now—facing things head-on.
I splash cold water on my face, brush my teeth, and, still in my pajamas, bolt down the hallway. My flip-flops squeak like they’re auditioning for a one-person circus act as I barrel toward her room. By the time I reach Quill’s door, I’m practically panting, feeling like I’ve just outrun a pack of wolves.
“Hi, I’m here!” I blurt out, loud enough for the whole house to hear.
Just as I’m about to dash inside at full speed, Raymond steps out. With zero time to stop, I crash directly into him, nearly sending myself into another dimension.
He lets out a low “umph,” and my instinct kicks in. I grab the nearest thing I can find, which just happens to be the softest fabric I’ve ever touched—his suit.
But I don’t pull Raymond down with me. In fact, he doesn’t budge, not even a little. The man is a marble statue with his arms instantly circling my waist, holding me close like I weigh nothing, not even a wobble. It’s as if women fling themselves at him regularly, and he’s perfected the art of catching them in the nick of time.
Before I can blink, I’m back on my feet, or rather, practically hovering an inch off the ground, held steady by the sheer strength of his arms. His fresh breath, warm and impossibly close, brushes against my lips, and my heart stutters as if it’s forgotten how to function.
My first coherent thought? Thank God I brushed my teeth.
My second? Holy smokes, is that his bicep under my hand? Because whatever I’m gripping feels like solid rock.
Raymond’s gaze drops to where I’m still fisting his suit, and his mouth twitches. “You alright there?” His voice is low, teasing, and way too composed for someone who just caught a human wrecking ball.
I blink up at him, my brain lagging as I finally release my death grip. “Yeah, totally. Just…you know, testing your reflexes.”
And there it is—the full-on smirk, like he’s enjoying every second of my clumsy disaster. “Glad to know I passed.”
I manage a laugh, though it sounds more like a wheeze.
Quill hops down from her bed, eyes wide and clearly entertained by my near-death experience. “Morning, Willow,” she signs, her little fingers moving quickly while Raymond’s hands still rest casually on my hips.
“Morning, Quillbug.” I force a grin, ignoring the heat climbing up my neck as I finally step back. “Sorry I’m late to get you ready for school.”
“It’s okay. It’s the weekend.” Raymond’s voice holds a hint of amusement and surprise.
“Thank God.”