Page 57 of The Rejected Wife

Outwardly though, I scoff. “I call bullshit. You’re pushing it because you want all your grandsons married, and you’re using Serene as a convenience to get me hitched.”

Arthur adopts a look of innocence which is patently false on his face. Gramps should get an Academy Award. “You wound me, Grandson. I only have your best interests at heart.”

I glare at him, and he smiles back. He’s enjoying himself. This is Arthur in his element, controlling the lot of us like pawns on a chessboard.

"You know how to time your demands, don’t you, old man?" I lean forward in my seat. "You know, I would do everything in my power to ensure Serene gets access to the Davenport wealth. It’s her due."

Which means, I need to find a way to comply with Arthur’s demands. For unless I claim my inheritance, I can’t pass it on to my daughter. Only, I have no idea how I’m going to do this.

As if he can read my mind, Arthur’s expression softens. But his voice stays steady. “I want Serene to have what’s hers, too. But that depends on you.” He taps the arm of the sofa, eyes on mine. “So, what’s your move?”

29

Priscilla

“Those are some fancy moves, honey.” I chuckle.

We’re in Serene’s room. We came up after her dinner, and she insisted she wanted to play with me before her bath.

She asked me to play nursery rhymes for her. When she grew tired of that, I switched to one of my playlists—a mix of pop and rock music. Right now, she’s dancing to one of my all-time faves.

Seduced by the upbeat tune, my feet begin to move as if on their own. I glide toward Serene, and when she looks up at me and squeals, I laugh. “It’s good, right?”

She nods and holds out her arms. Without hesitation, I lift her up, then dance with her. Both of us bop our chins. I do a shimmy which makes her giggle, then bump and grind which makes her cling to my shoulders.

“Dance. Dance. Dance,” she says breathlessly.

“Yes, Poppet, we’re dancing.”

“Faster. Faster,” she urges me.

I hold her tightly and twirl around. It’s been two weeks since I became her nanny, and I have loved every second of it. Serene and I have this kinship. We seem to be on the same wavelength, so being with her has been one of the most stress-free experiences of my life. I’ve never adapted so quickly to a child’s routine as I have with hers. And Serene, for her part, has been an absolute darling. Of course, I don’t sleep in the house at night, so I’m not there for whenever she has nightmares. But I know when she’s had a bad dream because Tyler looks exhausted the next day.

He insists that they’ve begun to reduce in frequency since I started taking care of her. But I’m not sure I can take all the credit.

I’ve read up and taken enough classes on childcare to know that, even without separation trauma or the unknown of how a child was cared for during her first year of life, sometime in their second year they begin to realize that they are a separate entity from their primary care person.

They realize they can't control the world around them. With this awareness comes the instinctive fear of abandonment by the familiar surroundings and people.

In Serene’s case, she was given up by the woman who gave birth to her. Something she must realize deep inside. I have no doubt this left its mark on her. But she’s a survivor. She has a zest for life which makes me feel lucky that I get to take care of her.

She moves her little body, wriggling around in my arms, so I hold onto her even tighter. I continue to shake my hips and roll them, as I do a mini twerk. She begins to giggle. Her face is alight with mirth, and that makes me chuckle and laugh. I continue to sway with her, humming the song under my breath, then begin to sing along. She looks at me, entranced. You’d think I was the most famous pop star in the world, the way she stares at me. The trust and adoration in her eyes causes the breath to catch in my throat. Damn.

I need to be careful. The way I’m falling for Serene is a slippery slope. Somewhere deep in the hidden recesses of my mind an insidious voice sparks to life. If only she were yours. If only Tyler were yours. If only you weren’t the nanny, but Tyler’s— What? I shake my head.

What do I want to be? Tyler’s wife? Serene’s mother? The latter seems even more unattainable. No, I am Serene’s nanny. And Tyler’s employee. And I need this job. I can’t do anything to fuck this up. And Serene needs me, too.

I’m not egoistical, but I know I’m a damn good childcare professional. No one else can look after Serene the way I can. I’m worth every dollar Tyler is paying me. And heispaying me. So, our relationship is not personal.

I need to remind myself of that every time I’m attracted to him. And every time my heart stutters watching him carry his daughter like she’s the most precious thing in the world.

The hair on the back of my neck rises. A shiver runs up my spine. I turn in time to see Tyler appear in the doorway. He leans a shoulder against the door frame. He must have just returned from work—today is one of the rare days when he had to head into the city for meetings.

He’s loosened his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his buttoned-down white shirt. It’s crumpled enough to show he’s had a long day. With the five o’clock shadow, mussed hair, and muscle-bound thighs stretching the fabric of his tailored pants, he looks delectable and sexy.

He slides one hand into his pocket, stretching the material of the trousers across his crotch further. Heat arrows down my belly and straight to my clit. A throbbing need springs to life between my thighs. Why does he have to look so yummy? Why do I want to throw myself in his arms, go up on tiptoe, and lick up the strong cord of his throat.

“Papa. Papa.” Serene wriggles around in my arms. I bend and let her down. She scampers over to Tyler, and he swings her up. With that lithe strength and confidence that comes with being a big man who’s done this many times, he throws his daughter up in the air and catches her.

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