Still…I can see what the girls see in her.
And frankly, I’m out of options. We need someone to fill this role, and we need them now.
“Then there is one thing you can do to make up for the broken bust.”
“What’s that?” she questions, her gorgeous dark lashes fanning at me as she blinks.
“You will stay here in the palace and become the nanny for my children.”
6
BELLAMY
Istare at the handsome king before me and realize I must have just flipped into some parallel reality. Some alternate universe. One where the hot asshole just told me I needed to become his kids’nannyto pay off an unpayable debt. Did I black out, or am I merely too entranced by his perfect face to catch up? It’s not a stretch to believe. The second I saw him, my knees had nearly buckled, and my throat had gone dry.
“I’m sorry, did I just hallucinate?”
His blue-gray eyes are all dark and stormy, pupils the size of dinner plates, and I’m wondering if that doesn’t translate from English to French. Though I’m pretty sure the words are close enough to figure out.
“Hallucinate?”
“Yes, you know.Halluciner,” I say in French. “When a person starts seeing and hearing things that aren’t real or actually happening. That’s me right now. Since I know you would never have said what I think you just said.”
He gives me a stern, unapologetic look. He’s unamused with me, but I’m far from kidding around.
“And if I did?” he retorts.
“Then I’d be forced to laugh at you, king or not.” That’s sorta when I start to lose it. Who the hell suggests something like that as a form of repayment? Doesn’t he live in the modern streaming television world where unpayable debts are returned with sexual favors and a lifetime of servitude? I mean, not that I’m about to suggest sexual favors as a form of repayment to him. That would be absurd.
I blush ten thousand shades of Hades and seal my lips. My vagina protests my mental declaration, eager to pay off this debt with him for us. Gladly offering its innocence as tribute.
Yeah, not gonna happen, I tell her.
He’s perturbed, but worse than that, he’s not kidding. It’s all over his unimpressed countenance.
Maybe he does live in the same world I do, because in some of the shows and movies and books I’ve indulged in, one fuckup is all it takes to become some crazy-hot guy’s bitch. Their servant for life. Didn’t I muse about that before? Only that was in jest. This man is serious. And while normally that wouldn’t bother me all that much—in a total fantasy, naughty sex way—this isn’t that. This is real life.
Hot or not, I can’t give in to this.
“No,” I say, and I say it emphatically. “I’m not a nanny, I’m a…”
“You’re a what?” he pushes, his head dipping ever so slightly into my personal space when I trail off. I lick my lips, tasting at the air he’s stealing from me. He has me so worked up that I can hardly keep track of my thoughts or stay on a tangent.
“A schoolteacher,” I finish hoarsely, trying to force myself not to knot my fingers, a chronic nervous habit of mine.
“But you could be,” one of the girls, I can’t even look to find out which one, calls out. “You could be our nanny. You could play with us and meet Zayer and be our beautiful friend like you said you were.”
Yeesh. Way to lay it on thick there. That’s Phaedra. It has to be.
I’ll admit, I was devastated when I realized who the artist of the bust I ruined was. He was the Michelangelo of the modern era and therefore, the piece is likely priceless. But come on. It was old, and when you go into museums, half the statues there are cracked or missing pieces. It simply adds to the charm. Even if he is missing his nose.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat for what is likely the fiftieth time. “While I appreciate what you’re saying and I certainly feel terrible for my father breaking in and for accidentally ruining the statue and I did love meeting and chatting with you girls.” I make sure to meet their eyes and offer them a simple smile. “I cannot be a nanny as repayment. I have to earn a living. The facility my father is in is quite expensive. Not to mention, I’ve never been a nanny before, and not even two minutes ago you were hoping I’d leave your country.”
King Sebastian’s pale gray-blue eyes lock on mine, his mouth twisting into a sour sneer. Almost as if he’s resentful and hates everything coming out of his mouth. “You wouldn’t be here as an indentured servant. Unfortunately, that’s against the laws of Messalina. I’d have to pay you as an employee, though we’d both know the reason for your employment. You’d earn a salary. A salary I’m positive is quite a bit more than your current one. You’d be able to continue to provide for your father while working here. Not to mention, you wouldn’t have the added expense of room and board.”
My stomach dips and then swoops and then rolls over at the idea of having some financial breathing room while being able to continue to pay for my father without worry. Indentured servant or not, I’d be paid as one. And I’ll admit, I did love spending time with the girls, however brief that was.
But it’s like I said…I’m not a nanny.
