I like being in control. I like calling the shots. But something about Samantha taking the reins just now is enough to have my dick waking up.
Hello, fella. It’s been a while.
For the first time in four months, my mind is completely blank. No problems to solve. No wondering how I am going to maneuver this meeting and Poppy being sick. Nothing. Just me and my hand. It’s glorious. Did I mention it’s been a while?
By the time I’m showered and dressed, the scene of the crime has been cleaned and the only person in the living room is Finn, waiting for me to go to our dinner meeting.
I thank the gods we’re meeting at the restaurant next door, so we won’t have to deal with traffic. We would have been late otherwise, something I loathe.
I knock lightly on Zinnie’s door. When I open it, she’s sitting on her bed with her earbuds in. She’s on FaceTime with someone. She’s not happy about it, but she takes one out and acknowledges me with a glare.
“Sam is staying until I get back, so you don’t have to watch your sister.” She nods as if she couldn’t care less and puts her earbud back in, resuming her conversation. Alright then. Guess ours is over. This fifteen-year-old has made me her bitch. She is never going to come around. Shuffling down the hall, I open Poppy’s door.
The lighting is muted but I can see she’s unsoiled and in bed. Sam is rubbing her back, and I faintly hear her humming a song I don’t recognize.
Despite having this problem temporarily solved, I’m still frustrated with my brother. Half of me is angry with Finn for making a decision of this magnitude for me, while the other half is relieved at the idea of having a nanny who isn’t going to walk out in two weeks. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this charade up. Can it even be called a charade if everyone already knows the truth? That I am fucking this up. I’m the only one who’s refusing to admit defeat.
“Ready?” Finn calls from the end of the hallway where he waits, watching me. He knows I’m going to protest before I even open my mouth.
“I don’t think this is a good idea. I can do this. I can make this work. I appreciate your offer, but it’s not necessary.”
“I love you, brother, but you are too close if you think you can do this on your own. You’ve wanted—correction, needed a nanny all along. How is hiring Sam any different?”
“The nannies I hire come from Willingham Society, the most prestigious firm in the world. The Royals use this firm. You’re telling me a twenty-seven-year-old college dropout is going to outperform nannies who attended the best universities and have had world class training? Somehow I doubt Sam is what Everett thought I would provide his girls when he entrusted their care to me.”
“Everett just wanted his girls to be loved. That is why he entrusted them to you,” Finn says over his shoulder as we walk to the table reserved for our meeting. He greets the gentlemen already seated and it takes me a moment to gather my wits about me.
Is Finn right? Is that what Everett wanted?
If so, why didn’t he choose their grandparents, or friends that have children the same age? I shake my head. Everett wanted his girls to be raised by someone with the financial means to give them everything they needed. To ensure they would have the best the world had to offer. That is why they chose me. I have more money than God.
Dinner drones on and by the time we leave I am more than ready to be home. It’s ten o’clock by the time the lift stops at Finn’s. He invites me in for a drink, but I don’t have it in me. In the short ride from his floor up to mine, I start to feel the dread that has become second nature. It will take me at least an hour to get the girls down, then another hour to prep for tomorrow. I still have a thousand emails to tend to. The first is a request to the Willingham to send a new prospect for review. It usually takes a few days for them to arrange travel; with any luck they can have someone here before the weekend.
The doors open and when I step into the foyer, I notice that something is amiss. I can’t tell if I’m in the right place. It’s quiet. There aren’t shoes and clothes and Barbies strewn about. The table isn’t covered in iPad’s and laptops and earbuds. For the first time in four months it looks and sounds like the home I always had.
Walking down the girls’ wing, I crack open Poppy’s door. It’s dark, but the pale light from the hallway illuminates the room enough that I can see Poppy asleep against Sam. Quietly, I maneuver the darkness and place a palm on Poppy’s forehead. She still feels feverish, but she’s sleeping for the first time in a couple of days. Sam’s bare feet are propped on the ottoman, so I shift the blanket she has draped over Poppy to also cover her toes before stealing my way out.
Zinnie’s room is surprisingly dark and she’s in her bed sleeping. The first time since she has stayed here that she’s asleep before midnight.
Today was just a bad day, I assure myself on the way to the refrigerator to grab a water to take to my office. Maybe I can do this after all. Maybe we are going to make it. Everyone keeps telling me that one day you look up and you’re over the hump. Maybe today was our hump.
I smile at the thought, but the truth slams into me like a wave when I open the refrigerator door. There’s a lunch made for Zinnie. An actual lunch. A thought-out, pre-planned lunch. Made the night before.
She had both girls in bed before ten and a lunch made for the next day. A feat the nannies from Willingham have yet to accomplish. The difference isn’t that we’ve made it over some hypothetical hump. The difference is Sam.
I’m an hour into emails when there’s a light knock on the office door casing.
“I’m going to sneak down to Finn’s place for a minute,” Sam says groggily. “Wanted to let you know. Both girls are asleep, but Poppy is still running a fever and coughing. Do you know if she has any allergies?”
“She doesn’t. I spoke to her pediatrician after the accident to get some history on both of the girls.”
“See. You’re better at this than you realize.” She smiles and for the first time I see the girl standing in front of me. I’ve always registered her as pretty, but I would go as far to say she’s beautiful. Her blonde hair, matted from sleep, hangs just below her shoulder blades. Without her heels, and based on where she’s hitting the door frame, I’d venture she’s around 5’7”. Her silk blouse skims over her ample breasts like silk draped over highlands. She has an hour-glass figure, showcased by the black pencil skirt she’s wearing. Her stomach is flat, but her hips, thighs and bum have a noticeable curvature to them. I suppose she would be considered ‘thick’ compared to the women I am usually attracted to. My size-zero fiancé, Camilla, can wear designer clothes like a runway model. From every angle, they hang perfectly.
“Pardon?” I ask reeling in my revelries.
“I was saying, you are better at this than you realize. You could stand to cut yourself some slack.”
“I don’t have that luxury. I have two little girls who depend on me getting this right.”
“You do,” she agrees, “and you will.” She says it like it’s a given, like she believes it.
I wish I had her confidence. I’m seconds away from asking her how she knows, and can she guarantee it.
“I ordered some cough syrup,” she continues, oblivious to my turmoil. “The front desk will call as soon as it arrives. I should be back by then.”
“You’re leaving?” The thought brings a surprising level of panic with it.
“Just to Finn’s for a few minutes,” she politely reminds me.
“Right. I’ll listen for the girls.” I gather my footing and straighten the fuck up.
She nods, and I hear the lift ping seconds later. True to her word, she’s back in less than ten minutes, but not alone.
“Thanks, Finn.”
“You’re welcome, Sam.” He nods to me when I enter the foyer.
“I brought Sam up. She doesn’t have access to your floor, so the lift wouldn’t open.”
“She has access to yours?” I ask surprised. Finn has strict rules when it comes to his privacy.
“Of course. So will Josh once I know he’s not a crazy person.”
Sam laughs and hits him on the arm. “Josh is a nice guy. I hand picked him to look after you. Be nice.”
“Fine. I’ll be nice.”
“Not nice like you were to me the first month. True niceness.”
“That’s not a word.” My brother winks at her and I notice they have a camaraderie about them that I haven’t observed before. This girl means something to him. I don’t know how I missed it.
“If you say so. Thanks for the clothes.” She yanks the edge of the T-shirt she has on. She’s changed into one of his white undershirts and a pair of his sweats from uni that have Oxford screen printed on the upper thigh. She’s rolled them up where her ankles show so she won’t trip. On anyone else the ensemble would look ridiculous, but she pulls them off, looking comfortably familiar.
“Anytime, love.” He kisses her forehead and the doors close.
“We met the doorman on the way up,” she says, holding up a white paper bag. “I’m going to wake her for a dose now and again in four hours.”
“I can give her the second one,” I offer, exhausted at the thought of waking up in four hours when I have to be up in six.
“Nah.” She waves me off. “I’m going to sleep in her room. If she’s still running a fever in the morning, I’ll run her to the doctor. Goodnight.” She smiles. There’s mascara smudged around her hazel down-turned eyes. She has a few freckles on the bridge of her up-turned nose and full rosy-pink lips. Other than that, she is fresh-faced.
“Good night,” I reply.
I sleep through my alarm the next morning. A bit of a bad habit lately. Having only been asleep for a few hours, it takes some effort to drag my arse out of bed and to the shower. I implore the fall of warm water to revive me, but it’s simply not up for the task. I wrap a bath towel around my waist before stepping up to the mirror where I find a tired man peers back at me.
I don’t know how Everett managed it. I’m feeling every hour of my thirty-four years, and in the reflection staring back at me, I feel like you can see each of them.
I give a silent thanks to God that my body still has quite a bit of athletic definition, even though I haven’t seen a gym in months. Finn and I have the same sea-green eyes and angular jaw, but he has our mother’s nose and cheeks while I favor our father. Hard and intimidating.
My skin ruddier and more textured from the sun, unlike Finn’s whose skin reflects our privileged lives. Rotating my face from one side to the next, I decide to leave the growing stubble that has become a common presence over the last few months. Anything allowing me to be out the door earlier. A lazy splash of cologne and I’m ready.
While everything else in my life has changed, my closet has been my one constant. It’s still an organized shrine to the suits housed here. I slide into a Saville Row suit, a gray pin-stripe, one of my favorites. I button my waistcoat before grabbing my suit jacket and starting the morning ritual.
I’d caution anyone not to mistake the word ritual for organized. Or planned. Or controlled. No, ritual for us simply means constant. The chaos, disorder and confusion are all constant.
You can do this. I lift my shoulders and crack my neck from one side then the other. I take a deep breath and go.
I release a lung full of air and head into the living area. The 30th floor is approximately six-hundred-fifty square meters. Not small by any standards, but not as large as some of my counterparts would expect. The floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room open onto a terrace that wraps around three sides of the building and adds another 200 square meters of outdoor space. That’s more than big enough. Anything more would be vulgar.
Fastening the cuff on my sleeve, I stumble over my feet taking in the scene. Zinnie is at the kitchen bar eating breakfast. This is a first since she’s been living here. Poppy isn’t eating but is sitting at the bar, reading a book. Do kids read at this age? Either way, she’s flipping pages.
“Maria said you like two sugars,” Sam says, handing me a steaming cup of coffee at the same time she sets a plate of toast with butter and jam on the island next to Zinnie. My usual breakfast. Another piece of information my assistant must have bestowed. I take a bite, noticing that Zinnie is eating yogurt with fresh fruit.
“How do you feel Poppy?” I ask the little one.
“Pops.” Sam commands her attention when she doesn’t respond. “Walt asked you a question.” She’s still standing on the other side of the bar. She eats a spoonful of yogurt before leaning across and tugging Zinnie’s earbuds out of her ears. Zinnie shoots her a disgruntled look to which Sam replies, “Not during meals.”
“My throat feels like growls,” Poppy says, turning the page.
“Gravel,” Zinnie snaps. “And if you pass it to me, you’re gonna pay.”
“But I only have two dollars.” A sheen comes over her eyes and there’s a slight lip quiver.
“It’s an expression, honey. No one is going to make you pay.” Sam smiles then gives Zinnie a scolding look.
“So, tell me girls, was it your mom or your dad who had a thing for flowers?”
Poppy stops a page in mid-turn and Zinnie sets her spoon in her bowl. I hold my breath. We never talk about their parents. I don’t want to upset them and I figured they’d talk when they were ready. Yep. Time for Samantha to go home. She doesn’t understand the little rules we have for survival, that help us make it from day to day.
“Mom,” Zinnie says quietly. “Zinnias and Poppies were her favorite.”
“I wish I had a cool story about my name like you guys, or Walt for that matter.” She nods in my direction.
“You were named after a flower?” Poppy asks, her page finding its spot against another.
“Writers, actually.” I look to Sam and she gives me a reassuring smile. “I was named after my mother’s favorite poet, Walt Whitman. She named Finn after her favorite book by Mark Twain. Do either of you know the name of the book?”
“Huckleberry Finn,” Zinnie says with a genuine smile. It’s the first one since before the funeral and it’s breathtaking.
“Daddy read that to us!” Poppy exclaims with a slight bounce.
“That’s right, Pops. He did,” Zinnie says to her sister.
Breakfast is quiet after that, but I feel like a small chip on the mountain was made. It’s the first time we’ve had a conversation that didn’t seem perfunctory and forced. Maybe Sam would be a good fit with the girls. She is the first nanny they have had a response to.
“It’s eight, you need to go,” Sam tells Zinnie. “Dishwasher,” she says when Zinnie heads to her room.
“There’s a maid who does that,” Zinnie and I answer.
“Not anymore. Rinse your breakfast bowl and place it in the dishwasher please,” Sam insists, setting the example with her own dishes.
Zinnie walks heavier than necessary to the sink, following directions.
“I’ll take you to the lobby.” I stand pulling on my jacket and go to grab my briefcase.
“Walt.”
“Samantha?” I look over my shoulder to see what she needs.
“Dishwasher,” she says, pointing to my plate and coffee cup.
I’m this close to telling her that I pay people to do these things for me, but I don’t. She raises a brow in censure at the attitude with which I handle my dishes. I check my watch and call the lift, holding it for Zinnie while she takes an inordinate amount of time getting her items together.
“I’m coming,” she snaps when she observes me checking my watch. I hold my tongue. By the time she makes it to the lift, Sam is waiting for her with her lunch. Zinnie mumbles a thank you and before she anticipates it, Sam wraps her in a hug and kisses her cheek, wishing her a good day. Zinnie quietly hesitates and steps into the lift. She doesn’t speak, but I catch her wiping a tear from the corner of her eye as the doors close on us.
“What’s wrong?” I cringe just asking the question. There are so many unpredictable ways she can answer this question. I can’t say that I’d be prepared for any of them.
“It’s just the first time since Mom.” She says softly.
“First time?” My voice just as soft as the doors open to the lobby.
“That I started the day with a hug,” she says exiting the elevator as it opens to the lobby.
I watch her walk to her security detail waiting to take her to school.
That I started the day with a hug.
Instead of exiting myself, I punch the button for the thirtieth floor. When the lift doors open Sam is in the kitchen pulling items out of the fridge.
“We need to talk,” I command.
“I know. Listen. I love Finn, but he tends to want to fix everything for the ones he loves. His heart is in the right place, but sometimes his mouth writes a check it can’t cash.”
“He’s right.”
“What?” She looks at me with perplexity and surprise.
“Finn is right. I think you would be a good fit for the girls and I would like to do a trial run to see if we can make this work. I’m a big enough person to admit that I am not winning this like I would like to.” I clear my throat. “Especially when it comes to doing what’s right for the girls. I only want the best for them.”
“That’s how you know you’re going to be okay,” she says with a conviction I have yet to find when it comes to being their guardian.
“It’s going to take me a while to get a replacement. Zinnie has maneuvered her way through five.”
“She’s hurting.”
“She is, and while I have tried to give her leeway, I’m running out of options.”
“And I’m an option? You didn’t seem very keen last night.”
“I wasn’t. I’m still not keen on it, but already the girls had breakfast, spoke actual words, and Zinnie talked in the lift. All of these are new.”
“I have some stipulations.”
“Fine. Negotiate your terms up front. I don’t like to make amendments.”
“I need one night off a week to do as I please. Preferably Friday.”
“You can have Thursday.” I have no preference what day she takes, but I don’t want to lose the upper hand before this even starts. She has no idea that she already has me by the bollocks.
“I want you to support me in front of the girls, as I will you. If you disagree with something, you need to pull me to the side and let me know. If they think they can play us against each other, they will.”
“They wouldn’t.”
“They would, and they will.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll be here before the girls start their days and stay until they are in bed.”
“You’ll stay here. There are nanny’s quarters.”
“I don’t need you nor your brother—”
“Let’s address this now, shall we.” I cut her off, crossing my arms. “I am not my brother. You work for me, not Finn.”
“I’m working an IT project for him.”
“He can oversee your projects at the office, but if you accept this job, you will be my employee here. Finn and I handle things very differently. I cannot have you thinking you can play us against one another.” It’s a prick move. A purposeful one.
“I wouldn’t.”
“As I said, you’ll stay here. The girls might need you in the middle of the night.” I honestly don’t care where she stays, but I know Finn will feed my dick to me if I don’t make it so she doesn’t have to go to and from Queens at night.
“Fine. Room and board and five hundred a week. I’ll move in next week.”
“I’ll pay you three thousand a week, room and board, and you’ll move in this week.”
“You can’t. I’ll lose my financial aid.”
“I’ll cover your school then.”
“No. I already had a budget set. I don’t need handouts. I just want to be paid fairly.”
I’m just about to tell her the former nanny was making ten thousand a week so three would be more than fair, but Poppy takes our attention.
“Sam, will you lay down with me?”
“I’ll be right there sweetheart.” She glares back at me. “I’ll move in this week, but the pay is non-negotiable. My IT work is counting as credit hours. They are considering it an internship. You can’t control me by throwing money at me.”
If that’s true, she would be the first.
“Fine. I’ll stick to your salary requirements.”
“Then I’ll move in this week.”