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CHAPTER1
Paisley
“Are you sleepy, sweetheart?” I ask before pressing a kiss to my small charge’s forehead. Tatum nods solemnly, her big blue eyes already drooping with fatigue.
“Yes, Paisley,” she lisps. “Thank you for tucking me in. Will Daddy be home soon?”
I nod.
“He will, sweetheart, but not before you fall asleep. You have me tonight, okay? I’ll be right down the hall, and if you need anything, just call.”
The little blonde angel nods again, already beginning to doze off.
“Love you, Pais,” she lisps once more as her big blue eyes shut, her long blonde lashes resting on those chubby baby cheeks. I gently press another kiss to her forehead before tiptoeing to the door and whispering, “Love you too.” Then, I make my exit, careful not to let the door hinge squeak. The darn thing has a habit of doing that sometimes, and the last thing I want is for Tatum to be disturbed right when she’s drifting off to Never-Never Land.
After all, we had a busy night. After spending some time playing in the yard, Tatum came inside for fish sticks for dinner, in addition to crazy carrots and some big-girl peas. Then, the little girl went for her bath (which meant there was water all over the bathroom floor), but I finally got her scrubbed and into her adorable unicorn PJs. Then, there was story time, which consisted of reading her the latestBedtime for Biscuitbook five times in a row. I begged Tatum to choose another one just for some variety, but the little girl held firm. It was Biscuit the Dog or nobody.
But now, Tatum’s safe and sound in bed, and I breathe out a sigh of relief. Even though it’s only been a few hours, babysitting for a five year old can be exhausting! As a result, I make my way to the living room and sink down on the couch in a boneless heap. Goodness, I’m practically being swallowed by this brown monster with its huge cushions, but then again, it probably cost in the tens of thousands of dollars.
After all, Mr. Landry is extraordinarily wealthy. I don’t know what he does, exactly, except that I know he’s in finance. For all I know, he could be buying and selling companies left and right, or he could be laundering money for Russian oligarchs. He’s never told me what he does, and I haven’t presumed to ask.
What I do know, however, is that this townhouse is the epitome of luxury. It’s a five-story double-wide set in the toniest part of the Upper East Side, and the interior is a decorator’s dream. The design is understated in a subtle, luxe way with plenty of earth-tone shades, as well as deep maroon drapes, huge couches upholstered in velvety suede, and a dining table big enough to seat sixteen. Plus, the kitchen is a chef’s dream come true. There are two ovens in case you decide to bake two treats at once, as well as top of the line stainless steel appliances and a kitchen island that really shouldn’t be called an island. It looks more like a floating continent made entirely of white Calacatta marble.
Even crazier, Mr. Landry and Tatum live here alone, as far as I can tell. A lot of townhouses in NYC have been sub-divided so that each floor is a separate apartment, but not this one. There must be at least ten thousand square feet of space for only two people, and one of those two people is only five years old! By contrast, when I was five, I was sharing a tiny room with my twin sister, Pamela, in our family’s duplex. That thing felt like it was made of particle board because on windy days, the walls would literally shake. Sometimes, I wonder if the structure was even up to code.
But a home is more about the people you love, than the physical form of a house itself. As a result, Pamela and I had a comfortable upbringing and didn’t realize we were part of the so-called “working class” until high school. Both Pammie and I were admitted as scholarship students to a toney New Jersey private school, and it was only then that we encountered the trappings of true luxury. Quite a few of the other girls had diamond jewelry despite being only fifteen, and I was confused by that at first.
“Aren’t engagement rings only worn when you’re engaged?” I whispered to my sister after Caroline Negrini strolled by with a five carat stunner on her hand. “I thought that’s when people splurged on diamonds.”
Pammie’s eyes widened as she caught sight of the huge sparkler, and she licked her lips with envy.
“I don’t know,” my sister confessed in a low voice to me. “But I definitely wish I had one of those.”
“No, you don’t!” I said playfully. “That thing is huge and so gaudy. It looks ridiculous with these ugly gray uniforms we have to wear, and really, a simple gold band would be more fitting.” But my twin merely shook her head.
“Speak for yourself, Pais. I’d love to have a big diamond. I just have no idea where I’ll find one.Yet.”
I sigh at the memory because that’s the difference between Pammie and me. Even though we had nothing, I never wanted more. As a result, I got good grades at St. Mary’s and even scored a full scholarship to Loyola College in Manhattan. Meanwhile, my twin went in a completely different direction. Pammie fell in with some of the rich girls, and got swept up into their nonsense. She managed to graduate, but never applied to college. Instead, she was supposed to work for our Uncle Richard in his furniture business, but instead she relocated to Manhattan, and I have no idea what she does for money these days. Something scandalous, no doubt.
But still, my sister is my sister. Maybe we don’t talk much anymore, but Pammie’s my blood and I’m not going to cut her off because she’s living on the wild side. In fact, I don’t know even know for sure that she’s up to no good because there’s been no direct confirmation. Of course, the last time I saw her, she had a Chanel bag slung over her shoulder that must have cost in the five figures, as well as those new Balenciaga boots that everyone wants, but that doesn’t mean my sister’s doing something illegal. At least, I hope not. But the truth is that I don’t really want to know, either. Pamela’s business is her own, just like mine is my own.
And that’s why I’ve taken up babysitting. Even though I have a full scholarship, I still need some walking about money for extras like snacks, a winter jacket, and unforeseen necessities. You never know when your laptop’s going to break and you have to take it to the repair shop, which can be insanely expensive. Last time that happened to me, it cost five hundred dollars to fix and I babysat every night for a month to pay that bill!
As a result, I’m grateful to work for Mr. Landry. Tatum is a dream, and most times, the little girl goes to bed at 8 p.m., which leaves me plenty of time to study and read until her dad gets back later in the night. But there is one thing about Mr. Landry that I hate, and it’s that he treats me like the help. Of course, I technicallyamthe help, but this asshole makes sure I know it, and doesn’t care if he comes off like a complete caveman. It’s in the way that he talks to me, as if I’m always an afterthought, but it’s also in the way that he acts.
In fact, as I get comfortable on the couch, I shoot a glance at the clock. Mr. Landry’s hired me for an eight hour stretch, and because I got here at five, it means that I should leave at one a.m. But that doesn’t mean that he’s coming back at one a.m. Instead, the drat man has the most horrific way of bringing his dates home and entertaining them for a while right here, while I’m present. I wish I could say it was just clinking champagne glasses and quiet conversation in the library, but this man is seriously messed-up in the head because he often takes his dates upstairs and fucks them like an animal in the master suite while I’m downstairs waiting!
I was so embarrassed and unsure what to do the first time it happened. He breezed in with Clara or Cruella on his arm, and barely even said hello to me in the living room. Instead, he merely nodded in my general direction, those blue eyes sparkling, as his date giggled.
“Who’s that?” Cruella asked.
“My babysitter,” he responded in a low growl. “You can stay until 1 a.m., right Paisley?” he called over his shoulder while hauling Cruella into his arms and literally dragging her up the staircase behind him. My whispered reply fell on deaf ears because then I heard the master suite door slam closed, and then some muffled giggling. But the giggling soon became fevered pants as well as loud moans, and I swear I could hear Cruella screaming, “Brad! Brad, ohhh!” as he drilled her hard.
I sat there on the couch, completely mortified because this is not what I expected. I’ve babysat a million times for millions of different families over the years, and not one of my employers had the temerity to do this. But Brad Landry is a complete asshole, and didn’t even say anything about it the next time I saw him. Instead, he started adding one hundred dollar tips to each invoice, and that made me swallow my protests. After all, I’d been thinking of tattling to the babysitting agency about this man’s rancid ways, but the tips really make a difference to a starving student, and so I kept my mouth shut.
But now, I wonder if it’s going to happen again tonight. Will I be forced to listen to Mr. Billionaire Businessman’s roars and grunts as he comes hard, a woman panting beneath him? Will I have to listen to the incessant pounding of the headboard against the wall as well as the slapping sound of flesh on flesh? Oh god, I hope not but a glance at the wall clock shows that it’s almost 9 p.m., and sure enough, a key snicks in the lock at that moment. Then, the gorgeous Brad Landry steps in himself, and as expected, there’s a beautiful blonde on his arm. My heart drops because this is going to be another evening of sin, where I’m once again an unwitting witness and never a participant.
CHAPTER2
