Chapter 31
Tyler
"Congratulations, I hear you hired Priscilla as your nanny, and she’s lasted—what’s it, almost five weeks now?
" Brody, my second youngest brother tugs down the shirt sleeve on his left arm. It’s to hide the scars I know cover the entire underside.
A memento he picked up in the Marines. He’s never spoken about what led to it, so we can only speculate as to what might have caused it.
Considering he’s the silent kind who prefers to limit his interactions to grunts, it’s telling that he made the remark.
I grunt in response.
“We’ve all noticed how much you’ve been juggling lately—looking after Serene and running a company at the same time—so I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you to volunteer to host tonight.” Connor deals the cards with practiced ease, his fingers moving smoothly through the deck. Two cards to each of us.
Poker night is a ritual Arthur started, and after he got sick, my brothers and I began rotating who hosts. Tonight, we’re in the basement of my townhouse. I’m only able to host because Cilla’s upstairs with Serene.
Nathan calls, tossing a small stack of chips into the pot. “I figured it might’ve been awkward, since she was once engaged to Knox. But he’s happily married now. And Priscilla doesn’t seem to hold a grudge. Plus, she’s great with Serene—so I guess it all worked out, huh?”
“Priscilla wasn’t strictly engaged to Knox,” I growl. “He never bought her an engagement ring. And it was never serious between them.
"It was all a part of Arthur's ploy to get Knox to notice June, anyway.” June’s his wife now. And yes, they are happily married, and I don’t begrudge him his happiness at all. But damn, if it doesn’t feel like I’m being stabbed in my chest to be reminded of how I almost lost her.
My brothers exchange a look.
Connor shrugs. “Whatever you say, Bro.” He raises, sliding in a bigger stack of chips into the pot.
He’s humoring me. I’m about to tell him to fuck off, when he adds, “Guess it’s a case of ninth, or is that the ninetieth, time lucky?”
I narrow my gaze on him. “What do you mean?”
“Given the number of nannies you’ve tried, I’m glad you found Priscilla. We were beginning to despair you’d ever find anyone to help. And boy did you need help.” Connor scratches his chin. “You were drowning, ol’ chap.”
Brody laughs. “You looked like you were one dropkick away from collapsing into a sobbing heap in the corner.” Brody fixes me with a stare. “We’re glad to have you back in the land of the living.”
And it’s thanks to Cilla. I survey the cards I’ve been dealt. Then re-raise. I push forward a neat stack.
“Leave the bugger alone.” James—a good friend who served with me in the Marines and is now a Michelin-starred chef—who’s joined us for the first time, lounges back with a whiskey glass in hand. “He has a lot on his mind.”
I shoot him a frustrated glance. “Thanks for the concern. Not.”
James switches his cigar from one end of his mouth to the other and smirks at me.
“He does?” Connor picks up on what James said.
It’s been a week since my conversation with Arthur. A week during which Serene seems to be sleeping better at night. Other than one night when she had a nightmare, she’s slept through the others. Which means, for the first time in almost a year, I feel wide awake and alert.
I'm sure it’s Priscilla’s presence in my daughter’s life that's led to her feeling more secure. Which, in turn, has led to Serene sleeping better. My daughter seems more at ease, happier, more content. It’s clear Cilla is the only person for me.
We had—still have—a connection. But so much has happened since I asked her to leave my penthouse that day.
We’re both different people now. How can I ask her now without seeming like I'm doing it because it's convenient? If she gets pissed off and resigns from her job as Serene’s nanny, then I’ll have lost her.
If she feels the same way I do, and I ask someone else to marry me just to avoid upsetting her, again I’d lose her.
But if she stays—what then?
I’d be trapped in a loveless marriage, watching the only woman I want take care of my daughter, day after day, just out of reach. It would destroy me.
Arthur’s decree has me cornered. I know what I want—who I want—but how do I get her to marry me without pushing her away?
Unbidden, my gaze strays to the app open on my phone.
It’s linked to the cameras trained on Serene’s bedroom.
I use it to keep an eye on my daughter. Parents do it all the time.
And if I end up sneaking peeks at my new nanny while she's in my daughter’s room, it’s simply because she happens to be in the same space as Serene.
It has nothing to do with how the sight of her gives me as much pleasure as my daughter.
It has nothing to do with the ring burning a hole in the pocket of my pants either.
I only need to find the right time to propose to her.
That’s not what’s making me nervous and jumpy and pissed off at my brothers.
That, and the fact that every time one of them talks or asks after Priscilla, I want to tell them to not speak her name. That’s how possessive I feel about her.
“Are we referring to the tension between him and Priscilla at her engagement to Knox? Which, by the way, did not go unnoticed,” Nathan muses.
“It wasn’t a real engagement.” I glare at my older brother, only to find him fighting hard to stifle a smile.
He’s trying to get a rise out of me. Once my brothers got married, they seemed to want the rest of us bachelors settled.
For men who complained bitterly about Arthur’s machinations, they seemed to move over to his school of thought quickly once they got their Happily Ever Afters.
"Don’t you guys have anything else to do besides worry about my personal life?" I glance around the table.
"You admit hiring Priscilla is linked to your personal life?" Brody tosses his cards into the pile.
"Of course, hiring her is linked to my personal life. She's taking care of my daughter.” I turn on him, only to notice his eyes gleaming. "Wanker," I say mildly.
The fact that my normally reticent brother has joined in on the ribbing tells me they’ve, indeed, discussed me when I’m not around.
"How is it that we’ve been granted the pleasure of your company?" I turn on James in a bid to move the spotlight from me. "Thought you were married to your restaurant?"
"I am." James surveys his cards. "But even I need a break…on occasion."
"Anything to do with a certain member of your team?" I can’t resist asking.
His features darken. "Don’t remind me."
"So, you did come here to get away from said sous-chef?" Connor theorizes.
"I’m the boss." James glowers at him. "What I do with my time has nothing to do with my team. I needed some downtime, is all."
"And you chose to spend it with us? I’m so humbled." My voice oozes mock gratitude.
James looks at me, then places an Ace of Spades and Ace of Hearts on the table.
Brody groans.
I chuckle. "You have the luck of the devil, don’t you?"
"Not always," James murmurs. There’s a look in his eye hinting at shadows from his past. I know, he’s referring to a particular mission that went badly for him. He sees the understanding in my eyes, and his own shutter.
He has his secrets. As do I. Neither one of us is going to betray the other about it.
I deal the next hand.
Brody looks at his and groans, then throws his cards face down and folds.
Connor, too, makes a sound of disgust and folds. Nathan does the same.
“You folding, too?” James asks, calm as ever. Man’s the coolest customer I’ve ever met. Whether he’s in the control room or out in the field, you’d never guess the pressure he’s under. The way he keeps his emotions locked down is almost as good as mine. Almost.
In response, I turn my cards over. It’s all four Kings, plus a Five.
“Well, glad to see the Monarchy’s thriving,” Brody says, deadpan.
James places his cards one-by-one, face-up. Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten and Jack. All hearts.
“Show off,” I scowl.
Connor clutches his chest in mock betrayal. “I thought you loved me, man.”
Brody reaches for an olive and stares at it. “Since when are we snacking like influencers?”
"Since I found out Tyler survives on processed food, which is unhealthy." Priscilla walks into the room with a couple of platters. One of which is a plate of cut vegetables and that brown stuff—hummus—she insists on plating out with it.
I stifle a groan.
Nathan levels a glance at me which I interpret as asking, “Since when does nannying stretch to playing hostess?”
I shrug. In the time she’s been here, she’s already made changes to my diet—and to Serene’s diet—for which I’m grateful, and this included throwing out all the pre-packaged food I had on-hand, saying nobody should be eating those additives.
She's right, but I had enough on my plate—pun intended—with ensuring a relatively healthy diet for Serene. I stopped making any effort when it came to my own diet. So, having her step in and plan my meals is something I gratefully accepted. In retrospect, I could have paid a housekeeper or a chef to do this, but it hadn’t occurred to me.
Am I taking her generosity for granted by accepting this from her?
I stare back at Nathan, trying to communicate with my eyes that: This wasn’t part of the job description. But when she offered to cater food for the poker game, I couldn’t say no. Another way I’ve taken advantage of her thoughtfulness?
"You could try the French fries," she hastens to clarify. "Baked, of course."
"Baked Fries?" Brody winces.
"You can't even tell the difference." She places them on the table, not noticing Brody shooting me a knowing glance. One which I pretend not to notice.
James samples one of the fries, then looks at her with surprise. "You made these?"
She nods. The light of recognition in her eyes tells me she realizes who he is, but she doesn’t make a big deal about one of the most famous chefs in the country sampling her cooking.
"They're good," he says slowly.
Her face brightens.