Chapter 10 Tate
TATE
“I’ll make something special tomorrow, I promise,” I tell my father while I clear our plates of spaghetti from the table that I created from the meager contents of our refrigerator.
“Best damn spaghetti I ever ate.” My father grins, batting away my comment.
I shake my head with a smile and finish tidying up.
My first paycheck from Sullivan dropped into my account as we were sitting down to eat.
I’m glad I hadn’t taken a mouthful, because I’d have choked.
The amount in my account was more than the contract said to expect.
And it was quickly followed by a curt text message from Sullivan telling me the extra was an advance.
He's crazy, he must be. He’s barely even needed me the past three days since I went to his place. Molly’s been with family. Sullivan manages her care well. I doubt he’ll have much need for me at all. Still, I can’t complain. Not when the money couldn’t have come at a better time.
“I’ll see you later. Be careful while I’m gone,” I say, pressing a kiss to my father’s whiskery cheek.
“I’m not dead yet, Tate.” He chuckles.
I grab my grocery list and purse and head toward the door. “Keep it that way,” I call back with a grin.
“Do you think he’ll give you a key to his place? I’d love to get a look around a billionaire’s pad like that.”
“I can bet my left kidney that Sullivan Beaufort will never give me a key to his place.” I shake my head, smiling at Ashley’s crestfallen expression before returning my attention to my phone.
We’re taking a breather after the morning rush, and I’m checking The Masked Maestro’s social media.
“Oh, oh, oh!” I squeal, thrusting the phone under Ashley’s nose. “He’s doing another show in a couple of weeks.”
Ashley takes my phone and scrolls through the post, reading it. “Where do you think this one will be?”
“No idea. Maybe somewhere outdoors. He hasn’t done a moonlight set for a while.”
Ashley’s brows shoot up as my phone rings.
“Is it Dad?” Worry seeps into my pores, making my stomach tighten.
“No.” A sly smile spreads on Ashley’s face and she turns the screen in my direction. “It’s Mr. Billionaire.”
“Let me answer it,” I say, reaching out. Sullivan won’t like being kept waiting.
“You should play hard to get,” Ashley muses, holding the phone out of my reach.
I stare at her in shock. “He’s hired me. This isn’t some dating thing.” I make a grab for my phone again but miss as Ashley curves me. She winks and answers the call.
“Tate’s phone,” she sings.
I widen my eyes. What are you doing? I mouth.
“Oh, she can’t speak right now, she’s helping out a customer. Oh, hold on… he’s asking for her number. I think she’ll be a while. Can I take a message?”
Ashley presses her lips together like she’s trying not to laugh. Her eyes light up with glee. “Mm-hm, I’ll tell her.”
She hands the phone back to me.
“What did he want?”
“You. Tonight after your shift.”
“Did he say where? Does he want me to go next door or…?” I swallow the sourness on my tongue at the thought of having to encounter the charming Cara again.
I didn’t know Sullivan would require me tonight.
The only spare clothes I’ve got are some old joggers and a T-shirt I left here after helping Ashley decorate for Valentine’s Day one late night.
I can already feel Cara’s disapproving glare if I show up at the Beaufort offices in that.
“He said he’ll pick you up.”
“Okay.”
Ashley studies me as if she’s waiting for a reaction.
“Anything else?” I ask.
She shakes her head, a small smile lifting her lips. “Is he always so terse when he speaks? Or was it because I had him picturing you being hit on when he called?”
I snort. “Don’t be ridiculous. That’s how he always sounds.”
She shrugs. “If you say so.” She turns with a bright smile to greet a customer who’s walked in.
I shove my phone into my apron pocket and get back to work.
His ruthless, assessing gaze rakes over my Linkin Park T-shirt as I slide into the cool interior of his car.
“Hi, Molly.” I grin, greeting her first before nodding at Sullivan.
“We need to make a stop on the way. And I have a call to make,” he grumbles, frowning at my outfit.
“Sure, okay.”
I give all my attention to Molly, strapped into her car seat between us as Sullivan inclines his head toward his window and barks the name ‘Fairfax’ into his phone.
“You had a good day, Molly?” I ask.
She gives me a toothy grin as she nods over and over. I mirror her so we look like a pair of nodding dogs, which makes her giggle.
Sullivan’s eyes dart to us, and I freeze, expecting him to shush us while he’s on his call. But instead, his eyes soften, and he ruffles Molly’s curls.
“It’s my daughter,” he says into his phone. “She’s in the car with me and her nanny.”
I school my reaction, concealing my surprise at him referring to me as ‘Molly’s nanny’, when less than a week ago he explicitly told me I was his ‘employee’ and nothing more.
A deep rumble vibrates his throat, making his Adam’s apple move, and I snap my eyes away before I gawk at him after witnessing the closest thing to a laugh I’ve ever heard from him.
“Is this a new baby?” I ask Molly, admiring the dolly she’s holding that’s wearing a dinosaur onesie that matches her own.
She nods seriously, staring into the dolly’s big, wide eyes. “Baby,” she says.
“Baby has great style, like you,” I say, bopping her on the nose, which earns me a big grin.
Sullivan’s gaze darts to me as he continues his conversation, and I force myself not to squirm in my seat when he frowns at my outfit again. He ends his call, pocketing his phone.
“Didn’t have you down as a fan of Linkin Park,” he says, leaning his elbow on the window and running a fingertip over his lips as he looks out at the city.
I tug at the hem. “I’m not really. It was my boyfriend’s.”
“Was?”
“We broke up,” I say, rolling my shoulders to avoid them seizing up like they do when I think about my ex.
He clears his throat. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be.” I scoff. “He was a loser.”
I clamp my lips together, but it’s too late. My little outburst has caused piercing blue eyes to flick my way. I swallow under his scrutiny before he turns his attention to Cliff as the car pulls over.
“We won’t be long, Cliff. Circle the block if you need to.”
A moment later, my door is opened by Cliff.
I climb out and watch Sullivan step out and stride toward me, fastening his suit jacket with effortless grace.
He stops just inches away, towering over me.
My heart skips a beat. His aftershave hits me, clean and sharp, and I can’t help but breathe him in.
“Excuse me,” he barks, snapping me out of my momentary step into a world of rich spicy aroma.
I step out of his way, and he leans into the backseat, unclipping Molly’s car seat buckle and lifting her out.
“This can’t take long. I have another call scheduled for when we get home.”
I rush to keep pace with him as we walk into the grocery store.
“Joan’s sick. I need to pick Molly something up for dinner,” he says.
“Oh, okay,” I say, reaching for a trolley with a child seat. Sullivan’s lip curls in disgust and he jerks his head like he’s horrified. I should have known. He’s far too uptight to use a trolley. He probably thinks Molly will contract a disease.
I pick up a basket instead and Sullivan reaches to take it from me at the same time his phone rings.
“What now?” he mutters, balancing Molly in one arm as he brings the phone to his ear.
“Jesus Christ, they did what?” He sighs, sounding weary at whatever the person on the other end says.
I put the basket down by my feet and hold my hands out, gesturing to Molly. Sullivan frowns at me, his jaw tightening. But whatever the call is about, it must be important, because he hands Molly over to me, then pinches the bridge of his nose.
Molly’s light as a feather in my arms, and I give her a little squeeze and maneuver her onto one hip as I bend to retrieve the basket. But Sullivan’s already curling his fingers around the handle.
“Shall we look for something yummy to eat?” I ask Molly.
She nods happily, her attention snagged on my bracelet. She strokes over the giant gemstone in the center, her brow set in concentration.
I head off down the first aisle. Sullivan remains by my side, his attention glued to Molly, like he still doesn’t trust me to take care of her without his supervision. I gesture to a pasta bake sauce on the shelf and he purses his lips.
“Needs to be fresh and organic,” he rumbles.
“Right,” I reply.
I continue wandering until we reach the fresh fruit and veg. I lift a pot of peaches and the look he gives me is like I just killed his cat, if he had one.
“Definitely no peaches,” I say to Molly quietly as I stuff them back on the shelf and lift up some strawberries.
He nods in approval, so I put them in the basket.
“What does your daddy like to cook?” I ask Molly, hoping that maybe it’ll encourage Sullivan to cut in and throw me a bone, give me something to work with.
He opens his mouth, but whatever the person on the phone says, steals his attention again, and he barks out something so harshly that it attracts glances from other shoppers.
The way the lines marring his forehead flatten the moment his eyes connect with Molly when she points to a picture of a cake on a display, has sympathy pulling at my heart for him again. He looks stressed. He always looks stressed.
“I like cooking and baking,” I offer. “I could make something when we get back? It sounds like you might be needed.”
The voice on the other end of the phone jabbers on, accentuating my point.
Sullivan grimaces at whatever they’re saying, then places the basket down and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a leather wallet and slides out a black Amex.
“Get whatever you need, Tate,” he says, an uncharacteristic tint of gratitude warming his usually gruff voice.
I take the card from him and stare at it briefly, running my thumb over the lettering of his name. It feels like any other credit card, but the weight of it in my palm has the hairs on the back of my neck pricking up. He’s a billionaire. I bet it has no limit.
I swallow as it burns into my skin.
Sullivan’s lowered his voice and is hissing at the caller on the phone as I hand the card to Molly.
“Hold it tight; it’s Daddy’s.”
She nods, her bottom lip poking out in seriousness as she steps up to her role.
“If anyone tries to take it, you could roar at them,” I suggest, patting the hood of her dinosaur onesie. She grins at me like the idea is appealing.
Shopping gets a lot more fun as I wander the aisles, plucking ingredients off shelves and dropping them into the basket Sullivan’s carrying.
He watches me with an amused brow lift when I squeak at the sight of fresh truffles and toss them in.
I wasn’t entirely honest when I said I like cooking.
I love it. It’s one of the first things I learned growing up—me and Mom in the kitchen while Dad was at work.
She taught me everything I know. And even though she’s been gone for years, cooking her recipes brings her back to me.
The scents alone pull me straight into those warm, messy, laughter-filled afternoons with her.
Molly and I both wear matching grins as we check out and pay before I hand Sullivan his card.
“Never seen someone so happy about buying groceries,” he says as he slides it back inside his wallet.
“It was my first time shopping with a dinosaur. It was exciting,” I say, making Molly giggle. I glance at Sullivan, waiting for him to take her from me, but he grunts and picks up our bags.
I walk beside him as we exit the store. An older lady taking her time to walk along the sidewalk looks at us as she passes.
“Nice family,” she comments with a smile as she shuffles on.
I wait for him to correct her, but his attention is on Cliff, opening up the trunk of the car. He walks over to us, dipping his head in greeting to Molly and me, and taking the bags from Sullivan.
Something brushes my lower back. “We need to get going. Traffic could be a nightmare.”
The heat of strong fingers against my lower back sends a comforting warmth over my skin. Guiding me to the car is purely out of concern for his daughter in my arms, but the move is so caring and protective that I can’t help but bask in it for the few short seconds that it lasts.