Page 53 of Fifth Avenue Fling

My stomach lurches. A statement?

I look around at the guys. They all look as uneasy as me. I guess they fucked up too, by not being on the scene quicker.

There’s Sam.

My weak wave is met with a sheepish smile from him before his attention drops to my chest.

Quinn’s jaw tightens. “Go inside.”

The neighbors probably don’t see this kind of show very often. What do you get when you mix a drunken Irishman, a bad nanny maid, and an angry billionaire?

Deported.

As quickly as they arrive, the men disperse.

I stiffen as Quinn places his hand on my lower back and leads me toward the house. The touch of his hand burns my skin. It must be a combination of the cold night air and my embarrassment. Only minutes ago, I was fantasizing about those hands caressing me in bed.

I feel his breath against my neck when he speaks. “Mind your step. There’s glass.”

Quinn guides me into the house and shuts the door behind us. He lets out a heavy breath and then turns to me, arms crossed against his bare chest.

I stand frozen in the hallway, my teeth chattering and my heart hammering. “I’m fired this time, right?” The question comes out squeaky and weak.

I don’t let him answer. “Don’t. I don’t want to leave New York.”

Appealing to his emotional side isn’t working, judging by the annoyed curl of his lip.

I smile weakly. “If you don’t want to do it for me, do it for your immigrants.”

Jokes aren’t working either.

His jaw works as he glares at me. It’s always working. “You’re a fucking handful.”

Hmm. It’s not a term of endearment, but it’s not “you’re fired” either.

I attempt another weak smile. “At least there’s not a dull moment with me. It’s good to break from the schedule.”

“Did you ask him to come here?”

“What?” I stammer. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Is he your ex?”

I shake my head adamantly. “No! Just someone I… I made a mistake with, and he likes me.”

“I gathered that,” he mutters dryly. “Is that the guy who messaged you?”

I nod. “All I seem to do is apologize to you,” I say in a tiny voice.

The muscle in his jaw works overtime. “It appears so. And it’s only been four days. Mrs. Dalton never had idiots showing up at my door like this. Then again, Mrs. Dalton doesn’t look like you.”

His eyes drop to my chest. I forgot I was semi-naked. Almost.

When they lock with mine again, they flash with something that looks a lot like desire. I must be delirious from the cold.

“Is that the last of the guys obsessed with you, or should I tell my men to be on alert for more?”

If he’s joking, then I’m not fired yet.

---