Page 76 of The Billionaire's One-Night Stand Nanny
“Your daughter, sir, is not the woman I have waiting,” he said.
“Tally?” James asked. He’d stood as well.
“No, she’s taking Maddie out tonight, they’re going to see a ballet,” I said as a wave of tingles–the aftermath of too much adrenaline–washed over me. It wasn’t Maddie.But who else…I stopped short.
It wasn’t going to be her.
I shouldn’t get my hopes up.
She couldn’t be here.
But–
“A Miss…Connellyfor you, sir,” the manager said disapprovingly, and I thought for sure that James would hear my guilty heart beating fast, thumping noisily against my ribs.
“Flora?” James asked, frowning. “But you said Maddie was with Tally tonight…”
“Flora,” I said, “but–”
“She insisted on being let onto the floor, but I informed her that we havestrict policies against women. I haven’t told her you’re in,” the manager sniffed. “Member privacy. Shall I ask her to–”
“No,” Charlie said, too loud. “Definitely not,” he added, then turned to me. “Ryan.”
“She’s–” I said, staring at him.
“Well? Are you going to stand around,” he asked, “or are you going to go to her?”
“I–”
“Fuckinggo, youasshole,” he hissed.
“Language, sir!” The manager huffed indignantly, and I heard Charlie say, “Oh, go–”
I didn’t catch the end of his sentence, thinking vaguely as I dashed through the leather club chairs, past the pool tables, that if Charlie got us tossed from the Bancroft, it wouldn’t just be me who’d be tempted to kick him in the balls. I pushed through the door, through the lobby, where a second man said “Goodnight, sir,”with remarkable placidness, and through the heavy door to the street, where a blast of cold nearly knocked me off my feet.
“Ryan?”
Itisher, I thought foolishly, blinking at the woman standing on the sidewalk beside a black car I recognized as…James’s? She was wearing a dark coat, a pale blue hat with a large, bobbling pom pom, and matching mittens, but still, her cheeks and nose were flushed pink with the cold. Had I forgotten how blue her eyes were? I hadn’t–I thought of them every fucking day–but somehow in person they looked even bluer. I wanted to wrap my arms around her, to pull her into me. To kiss her, to smooth the worried creases from her unlined brow… To have her smile up at me and say,that one’s a favorite of mine, very steamy. I could make her forget, for a little while, even if I knew I never could. “Flora, I…” I said, my chest tight with want. “What are you doing here?”
Her pink lips pressed together in a nervous line and I closed my eyes.
“No, that’s not what I–” I started.I’d fucked it up again already.
“Did you write me a recommendation for my teaching position?” she interrupted, holding herself very still and straight.
“Yes,” I said. Had she come all the way from Brooklyn to ask me if I’d… “I’m sorry, I thought–”
“Why?” she asked. “Did you…” She looked away at the discreet, nondescript door of the Bancroft Club. “Did you want to… You had to know that if I were to teach at your daughter’s school, we wouldn’t be able to be together. Was it to…” She blinked rapidly, mascara-dark lashes fluttering. “To get me out of the way?”
I thought of the night I sent that email to Charlie, the guilt that had eaten away at me after I tried to kiss her in the kitchen, and I answered honestly: “Yes.”
Her lips parted, her eyes growing wide and watery.
“Oh,” she said, barely more than a whisper.
“But–”
“No,” she said, blinking again. “I understand. I’m– I won’t bother you again.”
