Page 77 of The Billionaire's One-Night Stand Nanny
“No, Flora,” I said and reached for her, grabbing her wrist through her coat. It was thin, and not the kind of coat you wore when left to wait on the curb. I cursed the Bancroft’s fucking uptight manager, their rule disallowing women. “No, Flora, I–”
“Please, don’t,” she said. “I just needed to hear you say it.”
She tugged at my grasp and I tightened my grip on her wrist reflexively.
“No, Flora, listen,” I said, and forced myself to relax my fingers. “Please.Yes, I asked Charlie to pass your name to the principal. He knows her through his charity work. And yes, I can’t say that it didn’t cross my mind that if you had a job, you wouldn’t be in my house, I wouldn’t have to see you every day, be tempted by you–but…” I took a breath, the cold air burning through my chest. “If I’d waited… If it had been a week later, would I have sent it?” I’d thought it a thousand times, late at night. Would I have been able to give her up? I wanted to be able to say I would have done the right thing, thought of her interests over mine, but I couldn’t be sure. Would I have been strong enough to let her go? Seeing her again tonight, my faith in myself was shaken once again. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“When?” she asked. “When did you send it?”
“After that night in the kitchen.” I thought of Charlie, of the broken glass, and realized I wasn’t being specific enough. “When I tried to kiss you after my work dinner. Yes, I sent it to Charlie. I needed to remind myself that you were off-limits. To remind myself that this was about whatyouneeded, not…” I smiled wryly. “Not whatIwant.”
“What you want?” she asked.
I rubbed my hand over my face. “Wanted. What Iwanted. Then.”
“Wanted,” she said. “Right.” There was a long, silent moment. “And a week later?”
“What?” I asked.
“A week later… would you have sent it?”
“Fuck, Flora,” I groaned. The knife of guilt twisted in my guts. “I don’t know.Yes. You needed two thousand dollars, and I couldn’t give you that, but I could get you that job, I could make sure that you had what you needed, what your sis–”
“You knew about the money?” she asked. “How?” She didn’t let me answer, her eyes widening. “That’s why you–”
“I didn’t do anything, Flora, for you or your sister; all I did was make the introductions. You earned–”
“Because you knew I needed the money?”
“Yes,” I said, and nodded. “Because I knew you wouldn’t accept it as a gift, because you didn’t want to rely on me, you wanted to do it yourself, so if you are angry, I understand, but I won’t apologize, I–”
“But why? Why did you care about mysister?” she asked, her voice strained, her hands at her sides like she was forcing herself not to twist them together. “You don’t even know her–”
“Because it would make you happy,” I said, “because I wanted to make you happy, because I wanted totake care of you, because Icaredfor you,” I said–I nearly shouted. I looked around at the mostly empty street and lowered my voice. “Icarefor you, Flora, still. It eats me up inside, knowing I did this to myself, that I wrote that fucking email and then fell in love with youknowingit was impossible, but I wouldn’t take it back. Flora,all I want is to make you happy.”
She stared at me; one tear, then another rolled down her pink cheeks, and she blinked them away. I waited for her to say something–anything, but her lips were pressed together tightly, the movement of her chest visible even under the winter coat, so I opened my stupid mouth again.
“And because the biscotti are really good.”
She kissed me.
CHAPTER37
Flora
My lips were pressedto Ryan’s before I knew what I was doing.
I fell in love with you knowing it was impossible.
There was a moment when I thought he wouldn’t kiss me back: he was perfectly still, his lips cool and soft in the cold air of a winter night. And then, with a strained sound, he moved all at once. His head tilted to the side, lips parting, one hand coming to my waist and pulling me closer, one hand coming to my hair, gripping the base of my skull so tight it almost hurt.
“God,Flora,” he gasped, breaking the kiss to press his forehead to mine.
I broke away.
“Ryan,” I whispered, closing my eyes. “Why didn’t you bring a date to the engagement party?”
“Youknowwhy,” he said. His voice was rough.
