Page 23 of Knot The Nanny We Planned

And I don't know how to stop it.

We stay at the park for another thirty minutes. I push Lily on the swing, help her down the slide, and catch her when she stumbles. She's a resilient kid, she falls, she gets up, and she tries again. There's a lesson in there somewhere, but I'm too raw to find it.

My phone buzzes. A text.

Unknown Number:Hope the park was informative. - S

Serena. She got my number from the agency. Of course she did. I block the number without responding.

But I don't delete the text. I stare at it, reading it over and over, feeling the words hope the park was informative twist in my gut like a knife. She wanted me to know she's watching. She wanted me to know she's still there, still connected, still a threat.

They shared me.

They didn't even knot me.

You're just a placeholder.

I pick Lily up and head for the car.

The drive back to the penthouse is quiet. Lily falls asleep in the car seat, her head lolling to the side, curls sticking to her cheeks. I glance at her in the rearview mirror and feel my chest tighten.

They need someone to fill the omega-shaped hole in that child's life.

Is that what I am? A shape? A function? A warm body filling a cold space?

No. No, I'm more than that. I'm a person. I have a name, a history, a life. I'm not a placeholder for anyone.

But the doubt is there now, planted like a seed, and I can feel it growing.

We arrive back at the penthouse at 10:45. The elevator opens directly into the foyer, and the moment the doors slide apart, the scent hits me. Pine. Smoke. Cedar.

All three of them. Thick, concentrated, and waiting. They're home.

I step out of the elevator with Lily on my hip, and the sound of male voices drifts from the living room. Low, urgent, arguing about something I can't quite make out. Then silence when they hear the elevator.

JD appears in the hallway first. His suit jacket is off, tie loosened, and there's a tension in his shoulders that wasn't there this morning. His dark eyes find me, then Lily, and something in his expression, relief? Concern? Flickers before he smooths it away.

"How was the park?" he asks.

"Fine." My voice comes out flatter than I intended. "Lily had fun. She's ready for a nap."

He nods. His nostrils flare, scenting me, reading me, and I watch his brow furrow. He can smell the shift. The fear. The doubt. The sour edge that Serena's words left on my scent.

But he doesn't ask.

Knox appears behind him, and his reaction is different. He doesn't just scent me, he looks at me, those green eyes searching my face with an intensity that makes me want to either confess everything or run away.

"Hey," he says. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't smell fine."

"Well, I am."

He exchanges a glance with JD. The silent communication of men who've known each other for decades.

"Willow…" Knox starts.