Page 41 of Fifth Avenue Fling

“Not this Thursday.” I stare at a photo of Killian and Teagan on the wall. Teagan looks about six. Killian looks stony-faced even though he’s smiling. “I have to get up too early on Friday. My afternoons tend to be free, so at least I can squeeze in some yoga and a walk. I’m free after I make their dinner, but the way I feel right now, I just want to collapse in bed by eight. We’ll have to wait until the weekend.”

There’s an audible tut over the line. “It doesn’t sound fun.”

“No, not fun yet,” I say dryly.

My hand trails over a picture of Killian and Teagan with an older woman, probably his mother. There’s another photo of Quinn with a guy who looks like him, the same dark hair, the same handsome masculine features, and striking blue eyes. It has to be his brother. A few more of a much younger Killian with Harlow and Teagan. Harlow has the brightest smile of them all.

“Truth is,” I whisper, “the guy is scary as fuck. There seems to be a stick lodged permanently up his ass. I honestly don’t know how long I’ll last.”

“I give you another two days,” a female voice sneers behind me.

I pivot in horror to find Teagan, the demon child, observing me with an expression of either indifference or disgust. Maybe both.

“Sorry, Orla,” I stammer, ending the call.

“Teagan,” I say shakily, plastering on a smile. What is it with this family spying on me? “Would you believe me if I said the stick thing is a term of endearment in Ireland?”

She rolls her eyes. She’s less put together than this morning, but her thick black eyeliner looks fresh.

“You’re supposed to be at music lessons,” I say breathlessly, watching her toss her schoolbag on the table. I’m so screwed. When Teagan snitches, her dad will definitely fire me. Could I say she misheard me? Blaming the accent could work.

“I’m sick,” she says, then has the audacity to add a blatantly sarcastic fake cough.

“What can I do to help? Are you nauseous?”

Ignoring me, she stomps into the kitchen through the double doors.

I follow her in. If I don’t keep Daddy’s dearest happy, I’ll be off the runway tarmac faster than I can sayslan leat.Irish for goodbye.

“Can I make you a drink or something?” I ask.

“It’s fine.” She opens cupboards and slams them shut as if looking for something. She doesn’t seem that sick. Maybe she’s bunking off music lessons.

I persevere. “How was school?”

She cuts me a glare. “You don’t need to pretend you’re interested. We don’t need to talk.”

Jeez. Mission failed. “Didn’t you and Mrs. Dalton chat?”

“You’renot Maggie,” she snaps. “She’ll be back in a few months.”

I try to remember what it was like to be a new teenager. Everything and everyone is the worst. “I get it. It’s a pain having a stranger living in your house.”

She shrugs defensively. “I’m used to the staff being around. I have security at school.”

The staff.

My eyes widen. “Wow.”

“I’ve had them since kindergarten.” Teagan studies me strangely. “What I can’t figure out is why he pickedyou. You’re nothing like Maggie or the other two.”

“The other two?”

“The nannies who got fired before you.”

Great.

I turn off the oven, totally unnerved. “Your dad didn’t pick me,” I tell her, deflated. “And I don’t think he would have either. Marcus, a guy who works for your father, did.”

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