Page 57 of Bully Wolf's Nanny
She burbled slightly in her sleep, grumpy and uncomfortable, and he couldn’t help but smile. He would take grumpy any day of the week if it meant she was safe.
He sucked in a few calming breaths, releasing his death-grip on the side of the cot, and stepped back, running a hand through his hair.
It was only then that he looked behind him to see Francesca leaning against the wall and Daisy curled in a chair beside her, silently sobbing.
Francesca pushed off the wall and rushed to his side with open arms, wiping away invisible tears. “Oh, Nicky, thank God you’re here! I was so, so worried, but it’s all going to be alright! Gracie’s absolutely fine.”
He caught her wrists midair before she could snake them around his shoulders,
“What. Happened?” he growled, his voice pure thunder.
“It was a mild allergic reaction,” one of the doctors started forward, waving a clipboard at him, “you were lucky. It couldhave been a lot worse. I’m afraid to say your other daughter got the worst of it, but she’s recovering nicely, we just want to keep her in observation for a little bit longer.”
“Other daughter?” Nicolas scowled at the incompetent man, “I don’t have another daughter. Only Gracie.”
The man’s eyebrows drew together. “Oh, but I thought—"
“She’s my daughter,” said Daisy through a thick stream of tears, her voice catching on the words. “N-Nicolas is just my boss.”
“Oh, Nicky, you mustn’t blame Daisy,” Francesca cooed, smoothing the collar of his rumpled shirt, “she seems rather overwhelmed with looking after both Gracie and Thea. It’s no wonder she would forget something as small as a strawberry allergy!”
Daisy leapt to her feet, her teeth bared, fluffy blonde curls a mad riot around her face, “I would never! I wouldneverforget that! I never cook with strawberries; I don’t even keep them in the house!”
“Now now,” the doctor said nervously, stepping between Daisy and Francesca. “There’s no point assigning blame. Accidents happen, after all.”
“Accidents,” Nicolas snarled, his gaze narrowing. Dimly he was aware of the alpha security guards behind him stepping slightly closer, but he didn’t care. They were still in Iron Walker territory.Hisword was law.
“Yes, an accident,” the doctor stuttered, “what else would it be?” Daisy sobbed again, her face falling into her hands, and the doctor awkwardly patted her on the back. “There, there. It’s okay, miss. Your daughter is going to be just fine. We have the best doctors in the state!”
“C-can I see her?” Daisy asked, her voice so small and broken that Nicolas wanted to rage. He wanted to take her into his arms and kiss the top of the head and remind her that he was there. He would take care of them. That was the promise he had made, and he would be damned if he broke it.
The doctor must have sensed his murderous intent, because he cast a nervous glance at the security guards before answering, “We…we just want to run a few more tests, given the nature of the allergy. Nothing to worry about, all completely routine.”
Daisy nodded, accepting a tissue from the man, watery eyes rising to meet Nicolas’ gaze.
“Nicolas,” she whispered, “I am so sososorry.”
His jaw tightened, but before he could answer, Francesca leapt in, “What do you have to be sorry about, hmm? I thought you said you never cooked with strawberries!”
Daisy’s eyes widened, her hands shaking, “I don’t! I have no idea how any strawberries got into the puree! But I’m still responsible for Gracie’s care, and I failed. I…I…I failed.”
“You certainly did,” Francesca replied, her voice prim and haughty, “and Nicolas and I are going to have to have a very serious conversation about whether you can stay in our employ. I mean, how are we ever going to trust you after something like this?”
Nicolas’ vision clouded red, a snarl building in his throat, and he grasped Francesca’s wrist, pulling her out of the room. “Why don’t we have that conversation now, Francesca?”
The door slammed shut behind him as he strode out, Francesca whimpering slightly at the force of his grip around her wrist.
He followed his nose to fresh air, kicking open the door to a small patio off the side of a slouching cafe and half-throwing Francesca out into the cold air, closing the door again behind him with a definitive click. Francesca stumbled slightly before righting herself, smoothing down her hair, barely able to hide the frustration on her face.
“Explain,” he said once, and coldly, folding his arms and staring her down.
Francesca stuck her bottom lip out and wrung her hands. “Nicolas, what else is there to explain? I hardly know what’s going on myself! I’m beside myself with worry for poor little Gracie!”
“Yes, you seem completely torn up,” Nicolas replied dryly, casting a critical eye over her freshly touched up makeup and immaculate clothing.
She huffed. “We all have different ways of coping with panic, Nicolas.”
“And I’m not buying it. I think you’re full of shit. So I’ll ask you one more time,” he strode forward, clenched fists falling to his sides, “explain.”
