“A what?”
“Service flow. How we move bodies and plates through a dining room without collision.” I’m already typing. “Ben sleeps best with both of us close. We established that last night.”
Jess agrees purses her lips. “Are we so sure about that?” Her voice is careful. Professional. Like she’s trying very hard not to acknowledge that we spent the night in the same room. “And to be honest, I don’t think we can do another night like that. Neither you nor I got any real sleep.”
She’s not wrong.
“So we rotate,” I say. “If Ben spikes, all three of us in the primary. Calmer nights, we alternate. You take first shift with her, I monitor from the hall or the sleeper sofa. Then we swap at two a.m.”
Jess frowns. “That still means we’re both exhausted.”
“Better than the alternative.” I keep typing. “Which is one of us running on empty while the other pretends they’re fine.”
She studies me for a beat too long. “You really like systems, don’t you?”
You have no idea.
“I run restaurants,” I tell her flatly. “I think about logistics constantly. This is just another type of restaurant.”
Except it’s not. Because restaurants don’t involve sharing a room with a woman I want so badly it physically hurts. Restaurants don’t involve watching said woman breathe in the dark and remembering exactly how she fucking tastes.
Fuck.
I clear my throat and refocus on the note. “We keep it on the fridge. Simple chart. Date, night type, who’s on primary, who’s on backup. No confusion. For the next three days.”
She nods. Says nothing.
I’m trying to keep this professional, but I know it’s anything but.
Professional would be sending her and Ben to a hotel across town. Professional would be hiring another nanny and letting her walk away clean before this gets messier.
But I’m not doing that. Because Ben needs her. And maybe because I’m selfish enough to want her close even if I can’t have her the way I actually want.
“Coffee?” I offer instead of saying any of that.
“Please.”
I pour two cups. Hand her one. Our fingers brush and the contact lasts maybe half a second but it’s enough to make my cock insta-hard.
Get it together.
“So what’s the plan for today?” she asks, wrapping both hands around the mug. I imagine them wrapping around my cock. “Besides homeschool and hiding from paparazzi?”
Ravaging your pussy?
Focus, Marco!
I shift, hiding my erection from her. My pants pull tightly, and I grimace in pain.
Fuck.
“Gianna’s monitoring the feeds,” I tell her. “Sabrina’s coordinating press replies. Elena’s got a written-only policy in place.” I lean against the counter because standing too close to her is dangerous and I know it. “We stay inside. Keep Ben calm. Wait for the swarm to disperse.”
“And if it doesn’t?” she asks.
“Then we wait longer.” My erection is beginning to subside.
Thank god.
