EXCLUSIVE: FILTHY DADDY

CHAPTER ONE

SPENCER

It was exceedingly rare that anyone in their twenties impressed me. But, Avery Porter certainly was very impressive. It was more than just the way her white button-up blouse hugged her body tightly in all the right places, or the dark pencil skirt that kept riding up even though she kept trying to pull it down to her knees.

No, as much as I could stare at her all day, it was her spirit and that fire inside that shone from her confident gaze, that impressed me the most.

Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a twist, with soft tendrils falling loose and framing her delicate, heart-shaped face. She wore black-rimmed glasses that made her look a lot like a librarian – the kind of sexy librarian that fueled many men's fantasies – and seemed to highlight her big blue eyes even more. She wasn't wearing much, if any, makeup. Her skin was naturally fair and smooth. Her lashes were long and thick, and her lips juicy and plump – much like her breasts.

I adjusted in my seat, trying to hide the erection growing in my slacks. I mentally chided myself. It wasn't appropriate to think of her like that. She was essentially just a kid, fresh out of college, bursting with innocence and naivete. It would be so incredibly wrong to take advantage of that.

As I tried to focus my mind on the more appropriate matters at hand, I could already tell she was a smart young woman. Sharp. Quick. I liked that. She also had an impressive background, one I thought made her ideal for this role.

Avery had a degree in Education with a minor in , and, according to her, had experience being a nanny, both to make ends meet during her college years, and to her own siblings growing up. She also had a long list of references and encouraged me to call them all to verify her work.

There was no denying it; Avery pretty much fit the job requirements perfectly.

“Would you like to meet my girls?” I asked.

As I sat there with her talking, I made the snap decision to move forward to the next step in the process. She was the first candidate that had made it this far; the only one I felt comfortable enough to move along. If I were to judge by the way her face lit up when I asked about meeting my girls, it gave me a very good feeling about potentially bringing her on board. Her happiness was genuine, not forced. I could tell she enjoyed being around children – a feeling I hadn't gotten from any of my other prospective candidates.

“Of course!” she said, beaming with joy. “ I'd love to meet them.”

I nodded. “Before you do, I just have one thing I need to mention. My daughter, Lola, can be timid with strangers,” I explained. “Maisie is a little more outgoing, but both went through quite a lot when their mother died.”

I steeled my face and tamped down my nerves and emotions, locking them all in a box somewhere deep in the back of my mind. I was so used to it by now, it was second nature to me. An automatic reflex. Whenever I talked about Bree, I hid myself behind a mask. The pain was still too fresh. The wound too raw.

Bree had been the light of my world, my everything. She had been the person I'd planned to spend the rest of my life with, and she'd been taken from me in an instant. Gone in a flash. Just like that.

My two little girls had been with her when she died. Even though they'd been very young when it happened, and thankfully, the many therapists we'd seen said they probably didn't remember it in excruciating detail, they still bore the scars.

They'd never really spoken of it with me, so I never really knew how much they remembered. Sometimes it seemed like they remembered nothing from the car accident that took their mother's life. Other times, it seemed like they relived it every single day.

Especially my daughter, Lola, who'd struggled the most since the accident.

“I understand, Mr. Sullivan,” Avery said. “I lost my mother when I was young too.”

“I'm so sorry to hear that,” I said. “I see how my girls struggle sometimes. I can't imagine what it must be like to be in that position.”

She gave me a polite smile, but there was a clear and obvious pain in her eyes. Apparently, time did not, in fact, heal all wounds. I could see that the memory of her loss hurt her still, even though she was an adult with two degrees and a wealth of experience behind her.

As I looked at Avery, I wondered if my daughters would, like her, live with the blanket of their mother's death hovering over them like a shroud as adults. Or perhaps they might be spared that heartache. I certainly hoped for the latter.

My mind was suddenly racing in a thousand different directions – none of them that would do any of us any good. I was letting the conversation get way off track, and I knew I needed to turn the focus back to where it belonged. I cleared my throat and continued.

“I know that the move is also causing some stress for them,” I said. “And, I'm hoping to make the transition as easy as possible. I want things to be as normal and stable, per se, as they can be.”

Which was why I wanted someone who was bilingual, who spoke both French and English. Moving to a foreign land filled with strange and different sights you weren't used to would be scary enough. But moving to a place with all of that, and where the language wasn't your own would be downright terrifying for anybody. I imagined it would be double that for my little girls.

But, I hoped Avery could teach them French, so they could acclimate to their new lives and new home much quicker and much easier.

“I bet it's very stressful on them,” she said. “And if I'm hired, I promise to absolutely do whatever I can to help them adjust to their new home.”

I nodded. “I'm pleased to hear you say that,” I said. “I'll be right back then. Please excuse me.”

I stood up and left my office, my footsteps echoing loudly around me as I walked down the hall. The large spiral staircase led to the second floor of my house; more specifically, to the playroom in which my children were playing.

As I ascended the stairs, I walked past photos that showcased my once perfect family. Wedding photos of Bree and myself, smiling and as happy as only two people so deeply in love could be. Those were followed by photos of the birth of my girls – twins. We'd been ecstatic when they were born, completely over the moon. We'd always wanted a big family, and we thought having two perfectly precious little girls was the perfect way to start things off.

Little had we known at the time, those would be the only children I'd ever have with my wife.

The staircase wound around and ended in a loft that overlooked the foyer down below. I turned down the hallway, striding to the first door on the right, and pushed it open. I smiled, finding my two beautiful girls exactly where I'd expected to.

They weren't identical twins, though most people assumed they were. They just looked very similar. Lola was the smaller of the two – an inch shorter and about five pounds less than her sister. Her hair was a darker shade of brown than Maisie’s and looked a lot closer to the color of my hair than her mother's. Both girls had their mom's serious brown eyes, along with her pale skin and freckles though.

From where they were sitting beside each other on the floor, Maisie looked up at me first. They were playing Candyland, the game spread out on the floor in front of them. Maisie's eyes always looked so much older than they should for a girl of six. It was as if she understood the world better than most kids her age. Maybe better than she should.

Lola, on the other hand, always looked a bit uneasy, almost frightened of her own shadow. It was as if she expected something to jump out from around the corner and bite her at any given moment. Maisie protected and guarded her sister, and the two had a bond stronger than I could ever imagine. Probably even stronger than I understood.

“Would you like to meet your potential new nanny?” I asked them, smiling as I leaned against the door frame.

Maisie smiled wide and her eyes lit up. “I'd love to!”

Lola's eyes grew wide. She stared at her sister, as if she wanted to share her enthusiasm, but she couldn't muster up the nerve. She didn't say anything and looked away. She was always my shy, reserved little girl, while Maisie talked to anyone and everyone.

“Come on then,” I said.

Maisie stood up and rushed to the door, her smile as wide as her eyes were large. When she noticed that Lola wasn't following her though, she turned around and went back for her sister, grabbing her by the hand and hauled her to her feet.

“It's going to be fun, Lola-bear,” she said. “Just wait and see.”

Lola-bear. My heart ached hearing the nickname their mother had given Lola falling from Maisie's lips. It stuck, with all of us calling her that, almost as easily as if it had been her given name. But, to hear Maisie use it struck a chord within me and made my eyes well with tears.

“Okay,” Lola said, her voice soft.

She slowly stood up and walked over, standing beside her sister.. The three of us left the playroom together, Maisie's hand in mine, Lola's hand in hers. I shut the door behind us, but not before I took one last look into the colorful, rainbow colored room that Bree had designed for the girls herself. She'd picked out everything – including the massive vintage dollhouse that took up one entire wall. That had been custom built to her exact specifications.

The girls loved it, and it would be coming with us to Paris without question. The rest of the room though – the mural Bree had painted herself with the rainbow and the clouds – that couldn't be packed in a suitcase and brought along. We had plenty of photos of course, and I was keeping this house for trips back to New York City when I needed to be there. But, for the most part, our move would be the end of an era.

More tears threatened to fall as I thought about the sort of symbolism of closing this door behind me – and thought about what it might feel like when I did it for the last time.

“Daddy?” Maisie said.

The girls were already at the stairs, staring back at me.

“I'm coming,” I said, doing my best to sound chipper.

I tried to subtly wiping my eyes with my hand so they didn't see the tears. The last thing I wanted was to upset them even more. They were already struggling with the idea of leaving their home behind, they didn't need to know that their dad was struggling with it too.

Maisie and Lola held hands and walked in front of me down the stairs, taking their time. Maisie used the opportunity to pepper me with all kinds of questions about Avery the whole way down.

“Is she nice?” she asked.

“She seems very nice,” I said.

“Is she pretty?” she asked.

Such an innocent question coming from her, I had to chuckle. Not that she could understand it, but thinking about how pretty Avery was, was about the last thing I needed to be doing.

“She's very pretty,” I said.

I spoke lower though, as if somehow admitting – out loud – that my potential new nanny was, in fact, very pretty, might betray the relationship I had with my wife. “Well, if she's nice and she's pretty, I think she's the one,” Maisie said matter-of-factly, as if those were the only two things that mattered in a nanny. “Don't you, Lola?”

“I think there's more to it than just being nice and pretty,” I said, ruffling Lola's head.

She never did answer her sister's question. We reached the bottom of the stairs and I led the girls into my office where I'd been conducting the interview. Avery stood as soon as the door opened, and her eyes positively lit up when she saw my little girls.

“You must be Lola and Maisie,” she said.

She walked toward us and kneeled down to be eye-level with the girls, the smile on her face reaching all the way up to her eyes, making them sparkle and glimmer with an inner light.

“My name is Avery,” she said.

“Avery is a pretty name,” Maisie said.

“Thank you,” she said. “And you must be – Maisie?”

“How did you know?” Maisie squealed, delighted that Avery knew who she was.

“Lucky guess,” Avery laughed and then turned to Lola, who stared at her with wide, uncertain eyes. “And that makes you Lola.”

Lola nodded, but said nothing in return.

“It's nice to meet you, Lola,” she said.

I interjected, just to stave off an awkward silence I felt was building. “Lola tends to be a little shy,” I said. “Maisie, on the other hand, will talk your ear off.”

“Is that so?” Avery asked.

Maisie rolled her eyes and looked up at me, her hands planted on her hips. “I like to talk. That’s how you make friends,” she said.

Lola finally giggled, and she managed to say, “You do talk a lot.”

Maisie shot her sister a look of disbelief and faux-outrage, but the two of them ended up giggling so much, I couldn't make out what Maisie said to her in return. My girls were laughing and happy, which meant the world to me. Even Avery seemed to join in on the smiles. There was suddenly a lighter feeling in the room, one of a blissful happiness or unfettered joy – something I hadn't felt in a long, long time.

Staring down at the three of them, I could tell the girls were already comfortable with her. I had a good feeling about this. The agency I'd contacted had highly recommended her for the position and her references were perfect. My only concern about Avery was how she'd interact with my girls, and I could see there was obviously no problem there. Honestly, there really was no reason to not offer her the job.

Especially since we were leaving for Paris in less than a week.

“Girls, what do you think? Should we bring Avery along to Paris with us?” I asked.

Maisie shouted, “Yes! We want Avery!”

Even Lola spoke up, “Yes,” she said softly, her soft cheeks turning a bright shade of red.

Avery stood up, her own cheeks flushed with color. She seemed surprised, but her smile stretched across her entire face. She was nearly in tears.

“Does this mean you're offering me the job?” she asked.

“The girls had their say, and I agree with them,” I said, feeling my own smile spread across my face. “So yes, Avery, if you'd like the job, it's yours.”

“Oh wow, I honestly didn't expect to – but, of course I want it,” she said, her face turning even brighter red, her hands coming up to her mouth. She looked like she might cry. “You have no idea how excited I am for this opportunity, Mr. Sullivan. I promise I won't let you down. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Please, call me Spencer,” I said with a smile. “And I'll be in touch with the travel arrangements shortly. We look forward to having you join our little family.”