Chapter 3

JADE

I inhale deeply and savor the delicious scent of the herb-encrusted salmon I cooked for Magdalene. She said she would miss dinner, but I always liked being prepared just in case. On a few occasions, Heath has sent her home without dinner after their quick roll in the sheets, and ever since the first time, I make it my business to have something tasty on hand.

“Would you like some more spinach, Jacob?” I ask.

He wrinkles his nose and spits out the green goo I just spooned into his mouth.

“Will you be a big boy and at least eat a few more carrots?”

I spoon some of the puree into his mouth and he eats a little before blowing bubbles. I thoroughly regret the day I taught him how to do that, because blowing bubbles and spitting are his favorite things to do now.

He laughs as I shield my face from the veggie assault he’s launching against me. Grabbing a towel, I clean him before attempting to wipe away the blended vegetables splattered across my apron. So much for him not being a picky eater.

Vegetables don’t seem to be his favorite things so far, although he ate more of the carrots than the spinach. It must be the sweetness.

I leave him in his highchair as I wrap up the leftovers and place them in the fridge. After giving Jacob his bottle, I also give him a few toys to play with so I can wipe down the kitchen and sweep the floor.

I always clean as I go whenever I’m cooking, but I like to make sure everything is back in its proper place once I’m done. If I didn’t love cooking and cleaning so much there’s no way I would be able to continue being a nanny. Mixing ingredients together and watching others enjoy my creations makes me infinitely happy. Plus, I feel I would be doing a disservice to myself and Magdalene if I didn’t keep everything sparkling clean.

Magdalene expects things a certain way, but I think my standards are ten times higher than hers. There’s nothing worse than cooking a meal and having to stop and search for something you need because you failed to return it to the right spot the last time you used it. Everything has a place and I like it that way. Just as I’m wiping down the stove, the front door opens.

In walks Magdalene, her eyes a little red and puffy, a sure sign she’s been crying. She kicks off her heels at the door and runs her fingers through her now slightly unkempt hair. Unfortunately, this is one of those occasions when Heath has sent her on her way after he’s finished with her.

He is such a jerk.

“Ma-ma-ma-ma,” says Jacob excitedly, banging his little fists on the tray in front of him.

She pulls her lips into some semblance of a smile before walking over to hug her son and kiss him on the top of his head.

“Hello honey, did you just finish eating?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say. “I blended some carrots and spinach up for him. He actually ate quite a bit of it.”

She looks over at me and gives me that sad half smile.

“I also made a batch of cookies.”

Magdalene raises an eyebrow. She’s not a major fan of sweets being in the house, but the occasional cookie every won’t hurt anyone.

“Have a cookie,” I say. “I made them with all organic ingredients, and I used dark chocolate chips.”

She nods and leans against the kitchen counter as I continue to clean.

“I think I will have a cookie or two, but I should probably eat something first. Did you cook anything else?” she asks.

“Sure thing,” I say, dropping the dish towel on the counter. “Have a seat and I’ll fix a plate for you.”

Magdalene plops down at the table and drops her head into the palms of her hands. I fight to keep my expression neutral as I put the hot plate in front of her. Sitting down in the chair across from her, I anxiously wait for Magdalene to take her first bite. While my instinct is to ask what’s wrong, I decide against it. It doesn’t really matter anyway, nothing I say will cheer her up, but hopefully a plate of good food will make her feel a lot better.

I like watching people react to tasting my food, especially Magdalene, because her face always reveals her thoughts. In my opinion, it’s the highlight of the whole experience. I firmly believe the expression on their face as they take the first bite sets the tone for the rest of the meal. The mark of a good chef depends on the reaction of whoever is eating the food.

Magdalene takes a bite of salmon, closes her eyes and sighs. My lips spread into a wide grin. Even though her face says it all, I still ask the most important question.

“How is it?”

She devours another forkful and motions for me to give her a moment. “It’s delicious,” she says. “It always is, you know that. You have to teach me a few things one day.”

I want to laugh out loud. Magdalene has never stepped foot in the kitchen other than to give me orders and to look for the corkscrew, and I doubt she ever will. Domestic labor isn’t really her thing from what I gather. Although, maybe a few cooking lessons here and there may help take her attention off Heath and the constant heartache he brings.

I get up from the table and make myself busy sweeping the floor as I wait for her to finish her food so I can wash the last dishes.

“You know what, Jade? You can go ahead and relax for the rest of the day. Since things didn’t go quite as planned, I’m going to spend a little quality time with Jacob,” says Magdalene, handing the dirty dishes to me.

She takes three cookies from the cooling rack, grabs Jacob, and walk over to the couch. She picks up the remote control and takes a bite of one of the cookies clutched in her hand as she leaves the room.

After finishing up in the kitchen, I head upstairs to my room on the top floor, another perk of being the nanny to a billionaire’s son. Like the rest of the apartment, my room is neat and organized, but I still like to dust and vacuum at least three times a week. I don’t have much in the room, just my clothes, a few pairs of shoes and a few trinkets from home.

The expensive paintings on the walls and the Greek sculpture on top of a pedestal in the corner don’t belong to me, but they make me feel fancy having them in my space. I take great care to only touch those things on an as-needed basis. It’s not often Magdalene gives me time to myself, after all, being a live-in nanny is practically a twenty-four-hour-a-day job. I’m not exactly sure what to do with my time when I’m not caring for Jacob, cooking or cleaning. I smooth the wrinkles from my sheets and get down on my knees to peek under the bed for dust bunnies.

Rising to my feet, I sigh while looking out of the large floor-to-ceiling windows lining my wall. The windows are my favorite part of the room even though they’re a bitch to clean. I never need to use my alarm clock, because the sun wakes me every morning with its soft bright rays beaming down on my face.

I could text Rachel and let her know I’m free for the rest of the evening. Or maybe I should finish reading that book I started over a month ago.

The book, a chilling thriller, is on my nightstand, with a tiny sliver of the bookmark poking from the top. I start to the bed only to remember my shirt is stained with chocolate from the cookies I made and the veggies Jacob spit that didn’t land on the apron.

Oh well, no better time to hop in the shower before curling up with my book.

I stop directly in front of the windows again, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my skin. It looks like sunset is only minutes away. Closing my eyes, I roll my neck from one side to the other as I unbutton my blouse. A massage would be great right about now. In fact, a deep tissue massage by a hunk with rippling muscles would hit the spot.

I want to unhook my bra, freeing my breasts, but even from this top floor, I find myself self-conscious that someone could possibly see. My nipples harden as soon as the cold air hits them through the thin lace as I shimmy out of my shirt, dropping it on my growing pile of dirty clothes. Reaching up, I gently massage my breasts before unzipping my pants and sliding them down to my ankles and stepping out of them. Maybe a long hot soak in the tub is what I really need instead of a shower.

I open my eyes and glance out the window again as my hands travel down to the band of my white lace panties. But before I turn to head to the bathroom, something or someone is moving in the building directly across from me. I get closer, with my nose practically touching the glass as I attempt to focus on the figure across the way.

I could have sworn that apartment was empty not too long ago… and is that a fucking telescope?

My mind races to comprehend what I’m seeing. I watch as a man paces back and forth while on the phone while he appears to look into a telescope that is pointed directly at me.

I stumble backwards from the window and scramble to cover myself as I race to hit the button on the wall that closes the blinds.

“What the hell?” I say out loud.

That place was empty and now there’s a Peeping Tom living over there? A Peeping Tom with several freaking telescopes all pointed at my window.

My heart pounds in my chest as I sit on the edge of the bed, trying to recall if the man looked familiar. I’ve never seen him around here before. I’m pretty sure I would remember a guy that handsome. I wonder how long he was watching me.

Yes, the thought of a stranger watching me undress is creepy, but I can’t help but feel a little turned on. Would I be this aroused if the roles were reversed?

To be honest, I would probably watch him under similar circumstances, but I wouldn’t be so brazen to use a telescope. Luckily, I hadn’t stripped completely nude before noticing I had an audience. Would he still watch me if he knew I was aware of his dirty little secret?

I pull my hair into a high ponytail and walk into the bathroom to start my bath, forcing myself to ignore the dull throb between my thighs as I replay the feeling of being watched by the handsome stranger across the way.