Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
“You thought you could break the top rule that’s literally in bold at the top of every other page in my guide?”
“No, I just didn’t think you would mind.”
“You thought wrong.” He glared at me. “I barely know you, Miss Hawthorne, which means I barely trust you. Now that you’ve broken what little bit of that I had in you, I suggest you apologize and perhaps I’ll reconsider.”
“Reconsider what?”
“You have to give me the apology first, Miss Hawthorne.” He narrowed his eyes. “Then I’ll handle the reconsideration.”
I said nothing.
“This is a limited time offer,” he said, looking at that damn watch, as if his minutes were more precious than everyone else’s. “If I were you, I would start talking.”
“And if I were you, and I had so many insufferable rules—” I’d had enough of his shit. “I would start watching my own damn kids.”
“Excuse me?”
“You can’t possibly expect us to stay in a bubble and do the same things day after day.” I glared at him. “For a so-called billionaire with the world at his fingertips, you sure are limiting theirs.”
The large vein in his neck swelled, but I refused to stop talking until I made my point.
“Your security team was watching us the entire time, and I can assure you that if someone did attempt to kidnap your children, they would return them the second they got a taste of their personalities.”
“You don’t have a say in how I set the rules, Miss Hawthorne,” he said. “You’re not their mother.”
“And you’re barely their father.”
Silence.
It hung between us, palpable and thick, waiting for us to address the lingering tension we’d avoided for weeks.
“Miss Hawthorne…” He clenched his jaw.
“Yes?”
“You’re fucking fired.” He took out his wallet and quickly flipped off hundred dollar bills like they were nothing to him. Then he held them for me.
“I included a few extra hundred, since you may need a day or two to look for another job,” he said. “You’re very welcome.”
“Fuck you.” I didn’t take them. “Save it for all the therapy your kids will need in the future.”
I turned away and stormed into the hall. Refusing to let a single tear fall, I didn’t bother waiting for the elevator.
I ran down flight after flight of the emergency steps, vowing never to come back.
TWENTY-SEVEN
PIERCE
Islid Harlow’s payment into an envelope and made a mental note to have it delivered later.
Picking up my phone, I dialed Jerry.
“Yes, sir?” he answered.
“Can you give Miss Hawthorne one final ride home, please?” I looked out my window. “She should be arriving at the lobby any second now.”
“Miss Hawthorne just told me to go fuck myself, sir.”
“Come again?”
“She suggested that I come upstairs to do the same to you once I’m finished, so I can finally remove the stick from your ass.” He cleared his throat. “What time would you like me to assist you with that today?”
I hung up.
Don’t think about her for another second, Pierce. Just let her go. Once and for all, let her go.
Following soft snores, I walked to the twins’ bedroom, amazed that she-who-I-refused-to-name managed to get them into a comfortable sleeping routine. Their new nanny—whoever she would be—could easily pick up right where she left off.
I wanted someone with three decades of childcare experience, and I’d make an exception if she were married. That would actually fit my lifestyle better, and I’d allow her family to live in one of my other suites.
I wanted someone who never wanted to leave the condo outside of picking up and dropping off Olivia, someone who didn’t push my buttons about everything, and most importantly, someone I would never think about during my work day.
I sat on the chair across from the cribs and checked my email.
“Hey, Uncle Brooks.” Olivia plopped onto the mini sofa.
“Reading some updates before dinner.”
“When you get done, can you remind Miss Hawthorne to wear all-black for my poetry show on Thursday? I don’t want her to forget.”
“Miss Hawthorne doesn’t work here anymore. You’ll have a new nanny by then.”
“What?” She sat up. “Why?”
“Because she quit.”
“What do you mean?”
“She decided that she didn’t want to be your nanny anymore.”
“No, she…” She shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”
“You don’t like her anyway,” I said. “This is a good thing, isn’t it?”
She narrowed her eyes at me and tilted her head, reading me like I read potential clients during meetings.
“You must’ve done something, Uncle Brooks,” she said. “There’s no way she quit the same day she stood up to Headmaster Helen and withdrew me from the Academy.”
“She did what?”
“You fired her, didn’t you?”
“Let’s back up to the part of this conversation where she pulled you out of school without my permission,” I said. “I’ve already paid your tuition for the year.”
“They’re mailing you a prorated refund check.” She was glaring at me. “Miss Hawthorne wasn’t planning to quit. Especially not now, since she was trying to be my friend, and I know it. She also promised.”