Page 30 of Nanny and the Beast

“I knew you’d come to your senses,” Helena says, grinning victoriously.

The sight of her smile thaws my heart a little. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Helena and the kids. They’re the only family I have left.

She heads toward the door but pauses at the threshold.

“Oh, and before I forget to tell you, we found some black mold in the guest room you allotted for Miss Turner,” she says over her shoulder. “I had to select another room for her.”

“Another room?”

“It’s one of the rooms in the Horizon wing,” she answers, walking down the corridor.

“Helena, why are you like this?” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose.

She blinks at me like an innocent cartoon owl.

“Oh my goodness, I completely forgot that your bedroom is in the Horizon wing, too,” she says. “I think I gave Miss Turner the room that’s opposite yours. That’s such a coincidence.”

“Please. You’re so transparent.”

She drops the facade. “We really do have a black mold infestation in some of the guest rooms, though. You know that it’s toxic.”

“You’re toxic,” I mutter.

“What’s that?” She swivels to look at me.

“Can’t you give her any other vacant room?” I ask.

“Too late for that now,” she says. “Her luggage has already been sent to her new room.”

“You’re a criminal mastermind,” I say.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

We walk down the staircase together.

“Seriously though, stop trying to set me up with the nanny,” I say. “It’s never going to happen.”

“That’s not up to you to decide,” she says.

“What on earth doesthatmean?” I ask.

“There are forces in life that are beyond our control. We don’t always get to decide what we want the rest of our lives to look like. Sometimes you’re hit with a curveball when you least expect it.”

“You really need to stop watching so many soap operas in your free time.”

“Please,” she says. “You basically grew up on my soap operas.”

“And look how healthy I turned out to be.”

She rolls her eyes at me.

When we reach the bottom of the staircase, a piercing scream cuts through the air, sending chills down my spine.

“Where are the kids?” I yell.

“They’re by the pool,” Helena answers.

Out of my peripheral vision, I spot Emma Turner standing in the foyer. The scent of cupcakes fills my lungs, clouding my head for a moment. I don’t even spare her a glance.

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