The Billionaire's Super Nanny (A BWWM Romance) Read online

  “That’s exactly how I felt about it. He thought I was being dramatic. I resented him so much. But it got worse. I found out later that he was cheating on me.”

  “What a piece of shit.”

  “Oh, but how I found out takes the cake.”

  Her smile was flat and humorless. I had a feeling that I was about to hate her ex as much as she did.

  “How did you find out?”

  “I opened the door to our place and found myself face to face with a woman who looked a lot like me. She was as surprised to see me as I was to see her. She asked for Byron and I told her he was out. Then she asked if I was her boyfriend’s housekeeper.”

  Zeya took a deep breath and steeled herself for what she was about to say, but I had my suspicions. I wanted to go to her, to pull her close and tell her that this man didn’t define her worth, but I stayed in my seat. Zeya needed to share this story, and if I stopped her now, I’d give up the chance to really know her, inside and out.

  “The woman was pregnant. And not just a few months. She was ready to pop. She’d been having contractions off and on all day and was looking for Byron so they could go to the hospital together.”

  She took in a deep, shuddering breath.

  “I didn’t know what to say to this woman, so I invited her in and texted Byron to let him know that she was on her way to the hospital and for him to meet her. He texted me back some crap about it wasn’t what I thought it was, but I never answered. I congratulated her on her impending bundle of joy and got her a cab.”

  “You didn’t tell her?”

  “She was going to find out when he was served papers, so why ruin it for her? She was giving birth. She had enough going on, and it wasn’t her fault. She had no idea Byron was married. I packed my things while he was at the hospital with her and filed for divorce the next day. I found my little place in the Village and never looked back. I started my radio show a few weeks later, and life has been great since then.”

  “Except you don’t have a child and he does.”

  I’d hit the nail on the head with that one.

  “Exactly. It hurts, but there’s nothing to be done about it. I can’t force him to be something he’s not. Besides, that was four years ago. I’m a different person than I was then. I don’t need a man to define me.”

  “Have you thought about adopting?”

  “I have. I want to, but I’ve been rejected by the state more than once.”

  “Why not just adopt a baby?”

  “It’s not that simple. And I wanted to adopt an older child out of the foster care system.”

  “Why did they reject you?”

  “Because I’m a single woman.”

  “So? You’re successful, more than qualified, and stable. Why wouldn’t they want you to adopt a child who otherwise is going to spend their teen years bouncing from home to home?”

  “I don’t know. But they were clear; I’m not qualified.”

  “So go through an adoption agency.”

  “That’s my last resort. But that costs money, and lots of it.”

  Something about the way she said it pulled at me. People often assumed that being a billionaire meant my life was simple and easy. But there was nothing simple nor easy about my life, and I’d found that having money often complicated the simplest things.

  Realization suddenly dawned on me. Zeya had a successful radio show and a life. She might not be rolling in money, but she was comfortable enough to live her life without taking jobs like this. I’d asked her to leave her home and her job to deal with my problems, and she’d walked away without haggling and without complaint. I’d never stopped to consider why, but it was suddenly so clear. She was desperate for money and a way out of her situation. Since she couldn’t change who and what she was to make herself fit the box the state wanted her in, she’d done the next best thing.

  “So you took this job for the money?”

  I don’t know why knowing this bothered me so much. I’d been desperate myself and had made sure the offer was too good to pass up. I shouldn’t begrudge her having the same motivations, but somehow I did.

  “Of course I did, but that’s not why I stayed.”

  “Why did you stay?”

  “Because your family needs help. Because your kids have been through hell in their short little lives and you’re trying to make it work, but you don’t have the tools.”

  “And when the job is done, then what?”

  “I don’t understand why you’re upset.”

  The truth was, I didn’t, either.

  “Just answer the question. What will you do when the job is done?”

  “I’ll leave and go on with my life.”

  “And just like that, you’ll walk away? Like everyone else in their lives, you’ll just walk away?”

  Chapter 6

  Zeya

  I didn’t know what to say to Taylor. He was upset, but I couldn’t figure out exactly why. Hadn’t the money been so outrageous because he wanted me there, whether I had room in my life for his problems or not? Yet there he was, hazel eyes flashing, voice barely controlled. He was upset and hurt.

  I wanted to find the words to make it better, but I didn’t know what I’d done wrong in his eyes.

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Taylor. I really don’t. I’m here to do a job. What I do is pretty standard. I come in, evaluate, redirect, guide and then leave. I’ve never had a family take issue with that before. I don’t really understand why you seem to be upset.”

  “Because we’re just another job to you. Just a way to make money so you can leave here and live your dream.”

  “I’m sorry, but did I ever claim to have any different motivations? What would my staying around solve? Nothing. It would be no different than you keeping Nichelle around like you did. It’s just trying to use a Band-Aid to close a bullet wound. It solves nothing. You are a single dad. It’s that simple. You have to learn to navigate that, at first with me, but eventually without me. That’s how this works.”

  “Well, maybe this isn’t going to work out, then.”

  His face was grim, lips set in that expression that I already knew so well. He was making up his mind, and I was going to have to fight to change it.

  “Are you serious? You call my agent, waving money in his face so that he will convince me to come to your home. Then you make the compensation so sweet that I would be a fool to say no and now you’re angry at me that I’m here for the money? It’s not like that’s my only motivation for being here. I believe your family needs me. I’m here to help. If you want to throw that help away because your feelings are hurt that I’m not falling over myself to kiss your ass, then that’s on you. Not me.”

  “So you’re not here for money alone?”

  “Of course not. Have you been listening to me?”

  “Then prove it.”

  “What do you mean, prove it?”

  “Don’t take the money. Do it out of the goodness of your heart and prove to me that it’s not about the money.”

  I laughed, the sound sarcastic and without the tiniest shred of joy. He’d gone off the deep end and I wasn’t going with him.

  “Why are you laughing?”

  “Surely you see the irony of a billionaire asking me to shun money to prove I’m not motivated by greed?”

  “I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am.”

  “So have I,” I shot back.

  “What you do is different than what I do.”

  “That doesn’t mean there’s less value in my work, though. And it doesn’t mean I should have to walk away from work for weeks without any pay and hope that the bank doesn’t foreclose on my apartment while you sit in your mansion and dictate what other people do with their lives. You have to see how asinine that is.”

  I’d finally found the words that brought it home for him. His anger deflated in an instant, and his face colored with embarrassment. Good. He should totally be embarrassed for suggesting such a thing.


  His voice was softer as he continued, but what he said next made my heart sink.

  “I don’t think this is going to work.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I was stalling.

  “We’re too different, and we’re never going to see eye to eye.”

  “That’s a cop-out and you know it,” I shot back. There was no way I was letting him off easy like that.

  “Whatever you want to call it, if we can’t get along, then how are you going to help me with my children?”

  “We get along fine. You have a lot of unresolved emotions that you’re taking out on me. Once you’re willing to let that go, this is going to work out great. Besides,” I added, “I don’t think the issue is that we’re nothing alike.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I think we’re too much alike. You’re so used to having everyone tell you what you want to hear, even though you call it like you see it without apology. It’s hard to be on the receiving end of that for someone like you.”

  “Someone like me?”

  “Successful people in your position of power don’t enjoy being challenged by others. You’re forceful and self-assured. But this situation challenges everything you know about yourself and forces you to step outside your comfort zone.” I paused to let that sink in. “I never said it was going to be easy, but you have to let go of this need to control everyone and everything. It’s not going to work with me. I’m not going to bow to your whim and do what you want me to do. It seems like that’s how you got into this mess in the first place.”

  I could see that my words were hitting home with him. He started to relax visibly, leaning back into his chair and looking at me differently than he had when this conversation had first taken a turn.

  “So what do I do?” he asked.

  “You leave Taylor Stephens, ruthless businessman, at work and concentrate on being Taylor, father of Tanner and Tara.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “You’re going to have to. You can’t expect Tara and Tanner to change if you’re not willing to try. You have to lead by example in all things.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “That’s all I ask. I’ll help you with the rest.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “It’s all right.”

  “No, it’s not. You have every right to your dreams, and I don’t know what came over me. I never thought about what would happen when your work here was done. I guess hearing that you would just walk away was too much for me.”

  “It’s a normal reaction. When you feel more confident it won’t be so hard to accept that I have to move onto the next thing.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  He looked like he was about to say something else, but then changed his mind. I let it go. We had a lot of work to do, and we had to put whatever this was aside. Maybe we would revisit it later, but I hoped it would stayed buried long enough to get this family on the right track so I could leave.

  There was a tension between us that was undeniable, but he was my employer and this was just a job. In six weeks, Tara and Tanner would join the countless kids I’d loved and let go and I would be one step closer to adopting a child of my own.

  Then, all the holes left by the children I’d loved and had to leave behind would be filled by a child who would be all mine. And then I’d forget about Taylor Stephens.

  If only life were that simple.

  “So, let’s get started,” I said, trying to get past the ugliness of our recent conversation.

  “What do I need to do?”

  “For starters, I’ll need to talk to every adult who helps care for the children.”

  Taylor nodded. He pulled out his phone, sending what I assumed was a mass text to everyone who worked in the massive house. They began appearing one by one, taking a seat around the room. I prepared myself for a long speech and a little bit of push back, but I doubted that I would get any. A look at their faces convinced me that everyone present had the children’s best interests at heart. The fact that the grownups were going to have to change their behavior to help the kids was irrelevant. They were ready to do whatever it took to give Tanner and Tara the best life they could.

  If only all of the families I’d helped over the years had been so willing.

  ***

  I had Taylor call the children down for dinner later that afternoon.

  “Now remember,” I reminded him, “set clear expectations and stick with them.”

  Taylor nodded. I looked around the room and saw four adult heads bobbing their agreement without being prompted. We were all in this together.

  I watched Taylor as he crouched down on eye level with his two children and repeated what we’d gone over. More than once, Tara turned away and avoided eye contact. Taylor remained firm, waiting patiently for Tara to come back to the conversation before continuing.

  He sent them to the table and went around, stopping behind me to whisper in my ear.

  “I think Tara just realized that being naughty and blaming Tanner has ended.”

  “It looks that way,” I replied softly, willing my flesh not to respond to his soft breath on my ear with goose bumps.

  He stood upright and went to his seat a moment before my body betrayed me, and I breathed a tiny sigh of relief. My attraction to him was my own problem, but I didn’t want my traitorous body broadcasting my desire for him to see. The less he knew about my growing feelings for him the better.

  The children were quiet at first, diligently working at their food and talking to each other and their dad between bites. When Taylor’s attention was focused on Tanner, Tara slipped a Brussel sprout off of her plate and rolled it down onto the floor beneath Tanner. She smiled at her slyness, and I held up my pointer finger as I drank to let Taylor know what she’d done.

  “Tara, please pick your food up off the floor.”

  “I didn’t put no food on the floor, Daddy.”

  “‘I didn’t put any food on the floor’, and yes, you did. I saw you.”

  It wasn’t entirely true, but we’d come up with signals before dinner, and he knew that I’d seen. For now, that was good enough.

  Tara crossed her arms over her chest and set her lip to quivering. Tiny tears filled her eyes, and I could see that Taylor was about to give in. I gave him a stern look and he regrouped.

  “Tara. Crying and throwing a fit won’t change anything. Please pick up your food.”

  “I won’t.”

  “If you choose not to, then you will go to timeout.”

  “You can’t make me,” she declared, standing up to her father in a way that men twice her size were afraid to do.

  Taylor waited, giving her a moment to change her mind and refusing to engage her in a war of words as we’d discussed. I was proud of him. It was rare that a parent took to my program so quickly, but Taylor got it. He knew that there were just as many wrong ways to do something as there were right ways. He was bent on doing this right and knew that hard work in the beginning would make it easy in the long run.

  Tara looked her father in the eye and then at me. She squeezed her little arms tighter across her body and turned her nose up at Taylor before she spoke.

  “I won’t, I won’t,” she said with certainty.

  Without another word, Taylor stood calmly. Gently, he carried Tara to the naughty spot I’d set up before dinner and set her into the chair. Tara kicked and shrieked, yelling at the top of her lungs. Taylor walked away without a word, setting the timer on his watch for five minutes.

  She yelled at us from the naughty spot, but made no move to leave. We ignored her outbursts and continued with our meal. Five minutes later, when Taylor’s timer went off, he went to a much less defiant Tara and crouched down to speak with her.

  “You’re on timeout because you refused to pick up your food from the floor. You need to apologize to me.”

  Tara turned her head away, crossing her arms again.<
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  “If you choose not to apologize, then you can stay on timeout until you’re ready to say sorry and pick up your food.”

  Tara looked at me, but I leveled the same unwavering stare on her that Taylor had. She wasn’t going to play us off each other.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The words were almost unintelligible, but it was a start.

  “Thank you for saying you’re sorry,” Taylor told her. “I love you. Now, please pick up your food from the floor.”

  She stomped her foot in defiance and shook her head.

  “If you won’t pick up your food, Tara, you will go back on timeout until you do. It’s that simple.”

  Taylor shrugged as if to say that it was just the way life worked. Tara glared at him for a moment, then stomped away. Her pink, sparkly dress flowed behind her as she went, stomping around like a herd of elephants.

  She growled and dropped to the floor, picking the lone sprout up and taking it to the trash in the kitchen. She stomped all the way back into the room and jumped into her chair. Once seated, she ate a bite of food with an angry look still settled on her face.

  It was hard not to laugh, but Taylor and I managed.

  “Thank you for following directions, Tara,” Taylor said, his voice level and encouraging. “Good job.”

  “You’re not welcome,” she whispered softly into her plate.

  Taylor let it go. It was a hard adjustment for a child who’d been running the show for so many years. Luckily, Taylor had a knack for knowing which battles to pick and which to let go.

  It was a skill I had a feeling he was going to be using a lot over the next week or two.

  Both children were well-behaved for the remainder of dinner and were rewarded with dessert. Afterwards, I helped Taylor navigate bedtime before joining him in the breakfast nook for a cup of coffee in the quiet house.

  “That’s the earliest they’ve ever gone to bed,” he said, sounding quite impressed.

  “When children get too tired, it usually makes it harder for them to sleep and turns into a battle. It’s counterintuitive, but you got it worked out.”

  “I did, didn’t I?”