Impressive that after just one evening of watching Holden work, I felt like the theme song for my life should be Rockwell’s song ‘Somebody’s Watching Me’. His completely callous raid of my personal history was horrifying yet reassuring. On one hand, he exposed the lie that privacy exists, yet on the other he gave me a peek into the power he would exude if necessary to protect someone who matters to him. He may never love me, but I’ll never second guess he at least cares. His momentary flare of jealousy when I mentioned having a conversation with Wyatt proved that much.
The coffee machine screeches its finale, but my attention doesn’t waiver from the vision descending the stairs.
In jeans and a t-shirt, Holden looks like a day dream. In a suit? He looks like the basis for every fantasy I’ve ever had. His frame while slightly larger than it was when we met freshman year is still the ideal build to me. Not so large I feel dwarfed in comparison, but not so small I feel like I will break his ribs while riding him. Which I will be doing. Eventually. It’s just a matter of time. I lost out the first time to…better competition. However, I won’t lose again. I didn’t take this job with the intention of getting something I wanted for years, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy that added bonus.
Holden enters the open area at the same time he adjusts his black tie. I suppress the moan the simple action generated and press my jean covered thighs tighter together. Thoughts of being bound by the object slowly parade around my mind flushing my face as well as hitching my breath.
His green eyes look up just in time to catch the change in expression. Holden’s gaze instantly turns predatory, leaving me paralyzed not by fear, but anticipation.
Unfortunately, he pushes it away, and approaches with a more professional demeanor. “Good morning.”
I shift to the side to allow him access to the freshly brewed liquid sanity. “Buenos días.”
He reaches for one of the coffee mugs dangling on display. “Sleep well?”
“Fairly.”
“You didn’t have any issues?”
“Not that I can recall.” The question sits uncomfortably. “Why?”
Holden shrugs. “Most people face a bit of anxiety when sleeping somewhere new for the first time.”
His concern seems genuine yet deflective. “You get over that pretty quickly when you move around as frequently as I do.”
“I’m sure masturbating helps,” he snidely remarks, eyes plastered on the coffee he is pouring into his cup. “However, if you insist on doing that while living here, please be respectful of your volume.”
“¿Perdón?”
“Volume,” Holden repeats as our eyes connect. After a short beat, he states, “I understand. We all have…” his attention momentarily drops to my lips, before continuing, “needs. But there are two children in this house. I expect you to be mindful of that. The last thing I want is to fire you over something that could’ve easily been avoided.”
Calm, controlled arrogance. Glad some things never change.
“Funny thing,” I fold my arms across my chest, “I was ‘mindful’ of my environment last night. It’s why I had the door locked, the television turned up, and my face pressed firmly into my pillow.”
His body noticeably tenses.
“Which means if you heard me, it was because you were trying to.”
Holden looks back down at his steaming coffee.
Despite his attempt to avoid eye contact with me, I shift my face back into his view. “Were you spying on me?”
Guilt grows rapidly on his face. He diverts his stare out the kitchen window in front of him.
The violation should shake me with outrage yet I can’t help but smile instead. He wanted me again. He wanted me so bad he couldn’t resist doing the wrong thing to feel the right one. I have a hold on him just like he has on me and I plan to keep it for as long as possible. I plan to enjoy it because the day will come when I have to let go again and I want a better parting present than a ‘good reference’.
I tug Holden by the tie so our eyes lock again. “Next time? Just knock. That way you can see and hear me.”
He swallows hard and a low growl festers louder than I’m sure he intended.
“Why didn’t anyone wake me up?!” Lynk shouts from the top of the stairs immediately dividing us.
I reply with a smile. “Buenos días, Lynk.”
Holden’s anger arises and falls to me. “You didn’t wake my son up!?”
My arms press firmly against my chest once more. “No.”
“What the hell do you mean no?”
“I mean no. When I say no that’s exactly what it means. No hidden fine print.”
The frustration I love seeing flutter does so again. “This isn’t a joke.”
“And I’m not laughing.”
His low gnarl is aggressive. “What the hell is wrong with you, Meena?”
“Nothing. I’m not the one who will have to bust their butt to make it on time for school.”
“It’s your job to wake him up!”
“No,” I quickly correct with a shake of my head. “That’s his job.”
His mouth drops to continue to argue.
“He’s almost ten. He’s more than capable of setting an alarm to make sure he’s up for school.”
Both of their mouths remain agape.
Ignoring Holden, I state to Lynk, “I also gave you fair warning before bed last night, you needed to set an alarm.”
“I thought it was a joke!”
“And now you see it wasn’t.”
Hatred in his eyes begins to increase.
“You can stand there and continue to stare at me if you want, but it’s your time you’re wasting. When it’s time to leave, it’s time to leave.”
Lynk’s irritation explodes and he stomps back up the stairs without another word.
Before Holden can jump down my throat, I explain my decision. “He needs this, Holden. He needs to learn to be responsible for himself. He needs to learn an amount of independence as does Sage. It’s healthy.”
Annoyance flashes in his expression. “Are you telling me I coddle my children?”
“I’m telling you, I’ve been observing this family for two days, and can already see how tightly wound around their fingers you are.”
He growls again, but this one obviously isn’t sexual.
“You hired me to do a job-”
“To help me take care of my children-”
“Then let me do what it is you hired me for,” I counter with force. “Let me do more than look good in tiny shorts and tight jeans.”
My playful remark briefly washes away the scowl.
He can’t argue with that. He’s been staring at my ass every chance he’s had.
“I’m ready!” Sage’s mousey four-year-old voice announces half way down the stairs.
We let our eyes land on the ridiculously dressed child. Her free-spirited nature is apparent by the neon green tights, purple and white polka dotted skirt, and pale yellow t-shirt. A smile graces my lips as I realize, they each had a miniature version of themselves. Looks wise, Sage has Beth’s beautiful blonde hair and porcelain complexion. Her innocent smile but bright nature is a direct reflection of her mother. Beth was the type of woman people couldn’t help but stare at. They couldn’t help, but love. As much as I hated the moment Holden laid eyes on her, I wasn’t surprised he fell head over heels. She was gorgeous. She was giving. She was untainted in ways we weren’t. She radiated richness and I reminded him of a life he wanted to forget.
“Morning, sunshine,” Holden says warmly. The minute she’s within reach, he swoops her into his arms, and plants a kiss on her cheek.
“Buenos días, Sage,” I say with an equally friendly tone.
Her face lights up. “Beynas deeyes!”
I lightly snicker at her attempt to return the greeting.
Holden gives me a pointed look. “Were you at least going to wake the four-year-old or is she in the same sink or swim position as my son?”
The candid comment causes me to glare.
“Miss Meena said I can get out of bed for school when the clock says the number 6 then 1 and then 5.”
“And if she wasn’t awake by 6:30, yes, I would’ve went upstairs to wake her up.”
He doesn’t respond to answer. He simply strolls past the island straight for the dining room area that is wedged in the corner closer to the backdoor and gives his little girl his attention. “You ready for breakfast?”
Sage nods rapidly, the oversized bow headband in her hair moving around.
“How about fruit?”
She shakes her.
“Not even a banana? They’re really good for you.”
“Bet you won’t be saying that in ten years,” I quietly mumble yet his stare sends daggers my way before sitting her down in her chair.
“No,” Sage denies. “I want pancakes.”
Holden immediately prepares to cave, which is when I interject, “Not this morning, Sage. You may have fruit of your choice and peanut butter toast.”
The declaration sends her bottom lip outward. “But I want pancakes.”
“You may have fruit of your choice and peanut butter toast.”
She frowns at the repetition and looks up to Holden who obviously hates to see his children unhappy.
I get it. I do. He’s the only parent they have left. He doesn’t want them to hate him because he has to be the ‘bad guy’, but if he keeps this shit up, it won’t matter. He’ll always become the villain anytime he utters the word no.
I approach the situation without concern of his pending reactions. “Sage, look at Miss Meena.”
Her blue eyes travel to my brown.
“You may have fruit of your choice and peanut butter toast. If you don’t like peanut butter you can have plain, buttered, or cream cheese. But fruit and toast are what we are having for breakfast.”
She nods her understanding. “Peanut butter toast and apples.”
“Manners,” Holden enforces.
“Please.”
“Coming up,” I sweetly reply and make my way towards the fridge while Holden settles down in the chair beside her. We exchange a look that gives me the implication he might actually see my point.
While I busy myself making breakfast, he spends the time entertaining her. She rambles on about preschool, recalling what they learned last week, and he asks follow up questions, hanging onto her every word. After delivering her food, I offer to finish making his cup of coffee, so he doesn’t have to peel himself away from her. He mindlessly mutters instructions for how he likes it. The lack of focus my direction doesn’t bother me. If anything, I find delight in it. It’s like this situation is the most natural thing in the world, like we’ve spent years waking up to this, like we will spend years continuing too. Just because I know it’s a fallacy doesn’t mean I can’t momentarily appreciate the feeling.
Lynk comes storming into the kitchen, scowl deeper than before.
“Morning, Lynk.”
He rolls his eyes in response.
The hurt look on Holden’s face tugs at my chest.
“Peanut butter toast for breakfast,” Sage announces with hand gestures.
“I don’t want peanut butter toast.”
“You can have plain toast,” I offer, “or cream cheese, but toast is what’s for breakfast and your choice of fruit. Your sister had manzanas.”
His green eyes glare up at me. “I speak English.”
Holden clears his throat. “Don’t be rude, Lynk.”
“I think it’s rude she didn’t wake me up this morning.”
Before a fight can erupt, I plaster a smirk on my face. “You may have toast and your choice of fruta. And you may wanna choose quickly, we’re leaving for school in ten minutes. Not much time to eat, brush your teeth, and pack your backpack.”
Lynk grunts. “I don’t even know where my backpack is.”
“You might wanna find it,” I say promptly.
He rolls his eyes again and looks at Holden. “Dad, can I have a granola bar?”
“Sure.”
“No,” I immediately correct. “You were given the same choices as your sister. You don’t want them, fine. Don’t eat.”
Lynk bites, “Then I won’t eat.”
I shrug my indifference. “That’s your choice. We’re still leaving the house in 9 minutes and thirty seconds. You might wanna go find that backpack.”
There’s a giant huff out of him as he pushes himself away from the table to storm off.
Holden exhales a similar sound, which is when I ask, “Are you all done, Sage? We’re leaving for a school in a few minutes and I need you to brush your teeth and get your backpack.”
She licks the peanut butter off her index finger. “Yeah.”
“Yes.”
My revision is instantly repeated. “Yes, Miss Meena. I’m all done.”
Her father helps pull the chair out for her to rush away.
The moment she’s up the stairs, he quietly snaps, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Reaching for Sage’s plate, I snip back, “Being the fucking adult in the house. The thing you should be doing.”
Holden unexpectedly shoots to his feet backing me against the wall. “You call starving my son being an adult?”
My face angles at his condescendingly. “Starving? Really? One tantrum to not eat and I’m starving your son?”
His hardened expression doesn’t falter.
With a small chuckle of disbelief, I toss the plate onto the counter space beside me, and stand my ground. “Let’s get a few things straight, Holden. These next couple weeks are going to be hell for all of you. Your children, who I know you love and adore, are going to push me. They’re going to test me. They’re going to do everything they can in their power to see what and where the boundaries really are. This is how children work. They’re people who need some sort of rules and regulations and discipline.”
“That’s not how Beth and I raised them.”
I try to hide the sadness from hearing their names together like she’s still alive. “Maybe not, but with all due respect, Beth is no longer here to help guide them in that capacity. You want a nanny like that, then find her. In the meantime, you’ve got me. And I know when to allow children freedom of expression and how to correct disrespectful behavior. I’m going to do my job, Holden. The job you hired me to do. The job I am more than qualified for. The job you can search through my emails and texts that I have been praised for doing in a professional capacity over the past seven years.”
He tightens his lips, but his shoulder slump in defeat.
Wanting more tension to fade, I salaciously suggest, “You can test me if you want too… Discover other,” I give his tie a gentle tug, “limits.”
Holden’s cock begins to stir against me. The heat in his eyes flares, yet just like before, he fights against it. He slowly begins his way out of the kitchen. “I emailed the paperwork to Sage’s school adding you to the pickup, drop off approved list. You will need to be fingerprinted, have your photo taken, and fill out your physical paperwork when you drop her off this morning. Lynk rides their private bus afterschool and is enrolled in their program for his age group. For his academy, you will be required a similar procedure. His school typically lets out at three and I have forwarded you their school calendar. You are free to pick them up any time between 3:30 and 5:00. I do expect everyone home for dinner by 5:30 regardless if I’m cooking it or not. My hours are never stable. They’re always changing. I expect you to be at their beck and call when I cannot be. We clear?”
The coldness in his tone causes the crispness in mine. “Absolutely.”
He gives his tie an adjustment and exits my direct line of vision.
This is going to be an adjustment…for everyone. And whether or not he’s willing to admit it, something has to change not just in those kids’ lives, but his.