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It was rude to turn down a gift, and she didn’t need to know about my problems with alcohol. I’ll just dump the whiskey in my basement and never see it again.
She nodded and stood up. She walked towards the door, and I followed behind her. She was wearing tight blue jeans and a black sweatshirt. My eyes kept dropping to follow the sway of her curves, but I tried to keep myself in check. Her bare butt came to mind, and I felt my cock harden.
She turned at the door, and I met her eyes, hoping I didn’t look like I’d been checking her out. “Congratulations, Tristan.” She stretched her hand but avoided my eyes with a guarded expression.
I took her hand in mine. It was soft like she’d never done a day of hard labor in her life. I doubted she had. I walked her to her Prius and watched her drive away. She waved to me from her car, and I returned a small wave.
That was a week ago. Ruby’s been attending school for three days now and is noticeably happier. When I dropped her off this morning, she even told me she’d made a friend.
“Sure, that’s a good idea?” Luke asks.
“I didn’t think it was, but Layla convinced me.”
“Layla?” I could almost see him trying to place the name. “The nanny?”
“Yeah.”
“She convinced you? What is she? The billionaire whisperer?”
I shrug like he can see me and finish my apple. “She made some solid points.”
“I bet she did.” His smirk is evident.
“Don’t be nasty.”
“I didn’t even say anything, man.”
“You didn’t have to. It’s not like that.”
“Of course, it isn’t. I can’t wait to meet this convincing nanny, though. I bet she’s a smoking piece of ass.”
I want to tell him not to talk about her like that, but I also know that will only make him more suspicious. I remain silent. The call ends after I remind him I’ll be there on time.
Layla and Ruby arrive in less than one hour. I’m ready to leave by then. I don’t have to pack anything, as my apartment in New York is still intact—one of the perks of being a billionaire who owns any property I want. I say an awkward goodbye to Layla and hug Ruby tightly; promising her, I’ll be home the next day. I swear to keep my promise as I drive to the airport.
“Mr. Jackson.” Jim, one of the two pilots who fly my jet, stretches a hand.
“Good to see you, Jim.”
One of the hostesses, a blonde with high cheekbones dressed in a short black skirt and a white shirt, smiles at me, her eyes making promises. She must be new because I don’t recognize her.
I look away; I don’t have time for this.
The plane ride doesn’t take too long, mostly because I sleep all the way. I get in the car waiting for me at the airport, and it takes me to my apartment. I choose a striped grey suit with a white shirt and sky-blue tie. The sleep on the plane has me feeling rested as we drive towards Brooklyn.
Board meetings are often like chess matches, waiting and watching each other as everyone makes their moves.
“We’re here, sir.” The driver’s voice reaches me in the backseat.
My eyes open, and I glimpse my company’s headquarters through the tinted window. It’s impossible to look at it without craning one’s neck. It’s just that tall. I wear my sunglasses and step out. The air smells noticeably different from New Brooks’. It smells dirtier and more polluted. For the first time, I miss New Brooks.
I straighten my suit just as my phone buzzes. I tap on it.
Luke: Where are you?
Me: I’m coming, Luke. I’m coming.
Paparazzi gathers me, flocking like vultures, their cameras standing in as their beaks tear at me. Again, I miss New Brooks, where I was pretty unknown. They throw questions at me, but I ignore them like they don’t exist.
