Page 19 of Redeem Me

Orla’s snuggled onto her knees, listening to whatever story she’s reading. I crank up the volume to hear which one.

‘Will you teach me your roar?’ Ivy singsongs the story, her honeyed voice flooding my office.

Owen is curled up on a beanbag in the corner with Patches tucked under his arm. He’s forcing an expression of boredom, but I know he’s listening because this story, The Lion Inside, is one of his favourites. Ivy seems to be making progress with him, slowly but surely, but he’s not making things easy for her.

She readjusts Orla on her lap, using one hand to turn the page and the other hand to stroke through Orla’s dark curly hair. I swallow back the emotion pricking my throat.

‘Yep, you’d love her,’ I look at Isabella’s photograph again. ‘She’s perfect for the kids.’ Which is why I need to stop perving on her on the cameras and get on with my fucking work.

I switch off my computer just before one and head for the kitchen in search of lunch. The house is unusually quiet.

‘Where is everyone?’ I ask Liz, swiping a chunk of cheese from the ploughman’s platter she’s preparing. It looks delicious.

She slaps my hand away and tsks. ‘Who knows where those hands have been!’

I know exactly where those hands have been. The memory is branded into my brain like a tattoo.

‘Wash them before you start plucking at my pretty platter.’ She nods towards the sink and lifts the wooden tray.

Liz is the only member of my staff who would dare to speak to me like that, but she’s practically family. She pretends she’s gruff and grumpy, but beneath it all she has a huge heart. When Isabella died, Liz single-handedly kept the house running. I simply wasn’t capable.

‘I’ll carry that out,’ I tell her. ‘It looks heavy. Give me a second.’ I cross the kitchen to the sink, turn the tap on and pump the soap dispenser.

As I scrub my hands, I glance out the window, and my eyes are drawn to Ivy. Specifically, her ass in those shorts. She’s running round the lawn chasing the kids. Owen’s clutching a water gun, firing it at Ivy and Orla. The distant sound of his laughter carries on the breeze and for the first time in a long time, my lips lift into a genuine smile.

But it freezes on my face when I spot Jared, my tight-vested gardener, meandering towards Ivy.

It’s impossible to hear what he’s saying to her. It’s also impossible to miss the way his beady eyes are roving over her torso like she’s a brand-new shiny toy. He stops, leaving barely a foot between them, and says something. She turns to him, throws her head back and laughs.

Who the fuck does he think he is?

I’m paying him to work, not to hit on my nanny.

And what’s so fucking funny?

Ivy runs her fingers through her hair and beams at him. It’s his turn to laugh. The urge to put my fist through his face is suddenly overwhelming.

‘Lunch is ready.’ Liz stands at the open patio doors, beckoning Ivy and the kids over.

Impeccable timing. My molars clank together as Jared reaches out and touches Ivy’s arm before backing away.

Clearly, I’m going to have to watch this newfound friendship.

‘I set the table outside again,’ Liz calls to me, obliviously. ‘Got to make the most of this weather while it lasts.’ She tilts her weathered face up to the sky and closes her eyes with a gentle exhale.

I dry my hands and lift the platter. ‘This looks amazing,’ I tell her as I pass. Even if my stomach is twisted to the point I might not be able to eat any of it.

‘Huh, flattery will get you nowhere with me, Mr Beckett,’ Liz snips, but there’s a hint of humour in her tone. I place the platter in the centre of the table and slide into my seat, dragging the summer air into my nose to calm down.

Why should I care if my gardener is flirting with my nanny?

Why?

Because she’s barely been here two weeks and she’s already got under your skin,a little voice shouts inside my head.

‘Daddy, did you see me?’ Owen shouts, jogging towards me. ‘I got the girls good.’ He thrusts the now-empty water gun in the air triumphantly.

‘I saw you, buddy. Looked like a lot of fun. Go wash your hands before lunch.’ I prise the water gun from his hands and place it on the ground behind me. ‘You too, Orla.’ She’s close on his heels, with Ivy tight on her tail.

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