“So,” I say, breaking the silence. “Ben’s with the grandparents?”
“Yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck. “They wanted to take her to the Natural History Museum. She’s been asking to go for weeks. She’ll be staying the night with them.”
“That seems a little convenient.” I say. “You’re not trying to get into my pants, are you, Mr. Marco Fiore?” The words are out before I can stop them.
OH MY GOD.
DID I JUST SAY THAT OUT LOUD?
My face floods with heat. I can feel it radiating off my cheeks like I’m a human furnace.
“I mean.” I backtrack frantically. “Not that you would. Or that I’m assuming. I just meant that it’s funny timing. Ha. Funny.”
Please open up and swallow me whole, library floor. I’m ready.
But Marco’s lips twitch. “Would it be terrible if I said yes?”
My brain short-circuits.
“Yes to which part?” I manage.
“The getting into your pants part.” His voice drops lower. “Because I’d very much like to get into your pants. But only if you want that, too.”
Former nanny discovers she does, in fact, want her former employer in her pants. Story at eleven because we’re apparently doing this.
“I want that,” I whisper hungrily.
His eyes darken. “Good.”
We sit there staring at each other, idiot mode returning.
“Should we.” I gesture vaguely upstairs. “Your room?”
“Ourroom,” he corrects quietly. “If you want it to be.”
Oh.
Oh no.
This is real.
This is happening.
This is not a drill.
I stand.
He stands.
We walk toward the stairs like we’re heading to a business meeting instead of about to completely wreck each other.
His primary suite looks different, too. Less cave-like. More lived in. The blackout shades are open, letting in the afternoon light.
He shuts the door when we’re both inside, and then moves to stand in front of the full-length mirror near the closet. “Will you... can you stand behind me?”
I position myself behind him. His height means I have to look up to see his face in the reflection. After a moment:
“Do you find me ugly?” he asks quietly.
