Dani It’s been three days since my disastrous morning at Van der Berg’s house. I stir a pot of pasta sauce as Bonnie tops up my wine. She slides onto the counter, swinging her pantyhose- covered legs back and forth. “Linda spoke to me today,” she starts, glancing at me. I don’t meet her gaze. “Oh?” I know exactly why Bonnie’s sister would talk to her—it has to do with the letter of resignation I handed in this morning. “She said you quit.” The wooden spoon clacks against the side of the pot as I stir the sauce again. “I did.” “Why, Dani? Is it because of that Van der Berg dickhead?” “No.” Yes. “Don’t lie to me.” I throw her a sideways glare. She just grins. With a sigh, I turn back to the pot. “I’m not cut out for childcare. I should just go back to a tech job. Try to make use of that expensive college degree I paid for. I used to want to make a difference, you know? Make a career in environmentally friendly technologies. They don’t have to be engines. I could go into sanitation, or work in quality assurance instead of design. I could work for a non-profit. There are options. I was good at my job. I’m not good at nannying.” “You told me you’d never go back to the industry. You said it would kill you. You said working with children made you feel like you were making a real difference instead of pandering to multinational corporations’ interests.” “I was being dramatic.” “I think quitting a job you’re good at just because some asshole billionaire fired you—when he fires everyone, by the way—is dramatic.” Snorting, I shake my head. “Why are you so nice to me? Why do you care?” “It’s called being friends, Dani.” She pushes my glass of wine closer. “Drink.” The wine is full-bodied and smooth, more expensive than I’d dare buy for myself. Leaving the wooden spoon on a plate next to the stove, I sink into a chair and lean my cheek against my fist. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Bonnie.” “Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?” “I’m just not sure New York City is the right place for me. And... I’m taking advantage of your kindness. I can’t r epay everything you’ve done for me.” “You’re not supposed to r epay it, Dani. You’re my friend. It makes me happy to do things with you. If you weren’t here tonight, I’d be alone.” Nibbling my lip, I try to believe her. I know Bonnie has a big heart, and she really does care about me. It’s just... I hate feeling like this relationship is unbalanced. Bonnie has given me so much. She’s bought me things without asking, let me stay at her apartment, introduced me to her sister who gave me the best job I could hope for.
“You know, since I met you last year I’ve been promoted twice.” Bonnie stares at her glass of wine. “I hadn’t gotten a raise in over three years before that.” “Yeah?” Bonnie nods. “The first one was after we met. When I saw you yelling at your boss and then wrestled your phone number from you, I went to work the next day and demanded a promotion. I deserved it, my performance was stellar, but I’d never asked for it. You inspired me to stand up for myself.” I wave a hand. “You’ve always been braver than me.” “I’m not, Dani. That’s what I’m telling you. You think you’re not bringing anything to this friendship, but you have no idea how much you’ve helped me in the past year. You inspire me, Dani. Your strength makes me want to do more, to demand more for myself.” My cheeks heat. No one has ever said anything like that to me before. “I can’t ke ep relying on your charity.” Bonnie laughs, shaking her head. “It’s not charity, Dani. You’re the best friend I’ve had since I was a kid. Do you know how hard it is to meet friends when you’re in your thirties? When you’re a woman working on Wall Street? When you have to put on the face of a tough-ass bitch all the time?” Her gaze softens. “Maybe I’m being selfish, but I don’t want you to leave. Why did you quit, Dani?” I don’t want to tell her that seeing Rich’s ghost at the Summer Ball terrified me so much I haven’t been able to think straight. It triggered the instinct inside me that urges me to run, and never stop. Maybe if things had worked out at the nanny job, I could have clung to that sense of stability. There would have been something ke eping me here. But now... I just want to go. I don’t want to share the same space, the same air, with the man who terrorized me all those years ago, even if the man at the ball was a figment of my imagination. Rich forced me to leave everything behind, and the fact that I even thought I saw him tells me I’ve gotten too comfortable here. It’s my subconscious reminding me that I’m never safe—not even in Van der Berg’s arms. “Where will you go?” Bonnie’s voice is quiet. She stares at the wall, her head resting against the upper cabinets as she sits on the counter. “I’m not sure. Canada, maybe? Mexico? Iceland? I’ve been told Reykjavík’s beautiful.” “What are you running from?” Her eyes flick to mine, an intensity I’ve never seen swirling within them. I could tell her. I could tell her what happened when I worked for Richard. How he seduced me, then convinced me to bend the rules for him. How he burrowed his way into my heart and mind so thoroughly that I lied for him, put my career on the line to cover for his lies. How I put my name on all those false tests, submitted them to every certification body that needed to approve our tech. Then, when it became too much, how he threatened me when I said I wouldn’t commit fraud for him anymore. I could tell Bonnie I saw a man who looked like him at the Summer Ball and it terrified me so much I almost ran away without even saying goodbye to her. The only thing that stopped me was the knowledge that no one here knows my real name. I changed my name, I have no social media, and I’m crashing at Bonnie’s place. The city is big enough that Richard
couldn’t find me even if he was here. Which he isn’t. And maybe... maybe something else stopped me, too. Maybe it was Bonnie’s friendship—the first true friendship I’ve had in more than four years. Maybe it was the memory of what happened at the Summer Ball. Of Van der Berg’s lips on my skin. “What happened the night of your birthday?” Bonnie’s question is quiet. I never told her what happened. I came home that night and saw a huge box next to the apartment door—big enough to hold a microwave—with my name on it. It had a note that said, Happy birthday! Make the most of it, and it was signed by Bonnie. The box was filled with all different types of condoms. Thousands of them. Different colors, sizes, flavors—some of them ribbed “for my pleasure.” A gag gift. She didn’t buy me a ticket to the Summer Ball. She didn’t pay thousands to get me glammed up to go out. She bought me a huge box of condoms as a joke. I cried when I opened it. I cried because it was so typically Bonnie, and it was funny, but I’d just been in the arms of a man for the first time in four years, and I had to run away from it. I cried because the universe played a cruel joke on me that night—showing me things I wanted and reminding me why I could never have them. Bonnie came home the next day to find me in her apartment after I’d been fired from the Van der Berg job. I told her I’d gone out for my birthday, but I didn’t say where, or with who, or what happened. My friend slides off the counter and pads toward me. She surprises me when she wraps her arms around me, squeezing me tight. Then she pulls her phone out and taps on the screen. “I saw this online today,” she says slowly, glancing at me before turning her screen toward me. It’s a photo of me in Van der Berg’s arms, standing on the red carpet. My heart skips a beat as I take her phone. He looks just as handsome as I remember, his jaw sharp enough to cut glass, his body big and broad, towering over mine. His eyes, blue and blazing as he stares out at the cameras. And me in my sparkly dress. My hand placed possessively over his chest, his arm wrapped around my waist. A smile on my lips, body pressed tight to his. I don’t remember being that close to him at all. The whole red- carpet experience was a blur. We look like a couple. Like a real couple. I thrust Bonnie’s phone back into her hands. “I don’t want to see that.” “Dani.” She crosses her arms. “Why is there a photo of you at the Summer Ball with Emil Van der Berg? What the hell happened?” I drain my wine and slam the glass back down. “It’s not important.” “Linda told me who her difficult client is. The one who fired you. The one whose arms are wrapped around you in that picture for the whole world to see.” I arch my brows, cringing, then sigh. “A team of stylists and beauty people just showed up here—some sort of mix- up with names and addresses—and I thought it was your birthday surprise, so I let them in. They brought me to the ball, and he was there, and he brought me inside, and...”
Bonnie’s eyes are wide. She drops into the chair next to mine, reaching for the bottle of wine to top up our glasses. “You went to the Manhattan Summer Ball with Emil Van der Berg? And you didn’t tell me? What the hell, Dani?” Groaning, I cover my face with my hands. “It was a disaster. Who is he, anyway?” “Who is he? Dani, are you serious? Emil Van der Berg inherited his family’s company five years ago—they make cars. He’s one of the richest men in the world. I thought you would know him for sure, what with your whole electric car design background and everything.” My brows arch. “Berg Motors? He’s the head of Berg Motors?” I groan, slouching in my chair. I throw my arm over my face as shame and embarrassment wash over me in thick, black waves. “His wife died two years ago. Hit by a drunk driver, apparently. His two kids were in the car with her, but they barely had a scratch on them. It was big news. He hasn’t been seen with anyone in public since then. No one, Dani.” I hear her unsaid words: Until you. “So not only is he rich, but he also lost the love of his life and the mother of his children. No wonder he hasn’t been able to find a nanny he’s happy to hire. No one could possibly fill his dead wife’s shoes.” “You need to back up.” Bonnie fills my glass of wine to the brim. “You need to tell me, minute by minute, everything that happened from your birthday until now. Go.” I snort, shaking my head. “I’ve basically told you everything.” Exc ept certain sordid details. “Why did he fire you on sight?” I bite my lip. Because we dry-humped like two horny teenagers the night before? Before Bonnie can interrogate me any more, the apartment buzzer sounds. She points her finger at me. “We’re not done here.” I stay in the kitchen, nursing my wine, while Bonnie goes to answer the door. After a few moments, she calls my name, her voice sounding strangled. When I enter the main living space, my friend’s eyes are wide. She pats her blond hair down, the sharp edges of it brushing her chin, then straightens her blouse and skirt. “What? Who’s there?” My wine dangles from my fingers as Bonnie stares at me. A knock on the door. Bonnie opens her mouth then closes it again. She shakes her head, then moves to open the door. Emil Van der Berg is standing on the other side of the threshold. His eyes land on Bonnie, then flick to me. God, he’s gorgeous. My body locks up, just as it did the first time I saw him. He’s wearing a pale blue shirt, the top few buttons open to reveal his muscular chest. His trousers are navy, perfectly pressed, tailored to show off his powerful legs. With his arms hanging by his sides, he clears his throat and glances at Bonnie again. “Mr. Van der Berg,” she says, st epping aside. “Please come in.”
I’m glued to my spot on the floor, unable to move an inch. “What are you doing here?” His eyes swe ep over my body, from my jeans to my thin silk camisole to my bare shoulders. Shivers rattle through me, and I grip the wall to ke ep myself from swaying. The wine I’m holding in my other hand sloshes in its glass. I really wish Bonnie hadn’t filled it up so much. Emil clears his throat and st eps inside as Bonnie closes the door behind him. “I was hoping to convince you to come back and work for me. I called Ms. Delmar today, and she told me you’d handed in your resignation.” My heart hammers uncomfortably. I take a sip of wine, if only to do something with my hands, my body. But when the glass touches my lips, Emil’s eyes dart to the movement, to my throat as I swallow. Heat washes over me, my mind providing a helpful montage of images to remind me what happened the night of the ball. His gaze is like a brand. I can feel it like the whisper of his touch, his lips. “I’m going to leave you two to sort this out,” Bonnie says, walking toward her bedroom. “I have... things to do.” She squeezes my arm as she walks past, giving me a look that says, You will tell me everything, or else. Emil takes a st ep toward me. I stand my ground. “You want me to work for you?” He lifts his hand to rake his fingers through his hair, sending strands sticking up in all directions. He looks more rattled than I’ve ever seen him. The air in the room is heavy with tension, with unsaid words, with heady arousal so thick it clouds my thoughts. Even after everything, I want him. The triangle of skin on his chest makes my mouth water. The sight of his hands makes my panties soak through. He takes one st ep, and I want to crawl to him. That in itself should tell me enough. I can’t work for him. With a de ep breath, he lifts his gaze back to mine. “The kids have been asking about you.” I frown. “They have?” A part of me is flattered, and another part of me is disappointed that he doesn’t want me to come back. But why would he? We shared a dirty few minutes in the back room of a party. It wasn’t anything special. Emil lets out a dry huff of a laugh. “Talia has been talking my ear off about fractions and math. Apparently, you inspired her.” Pride warms my heart. I shrug, turning my head to hide my grin. “She told me one of her teachers said girls weren’t as good at math as boys were. I disagree with that, obviously, so I may have spent our time baking cookies telling her exactly what I thought about those kinds of opinions. Then I tried to teach her a bit of math—just stuff she’ll learn in the next year or two. She caught on quickly. Smart kid.” “I didn’t know her teacher had said that,” Emil responds so softly I wonder if he meant to say it out loud. He clears his throat and glances at me. “She asks about you every day.” “Really? I’m surprised they even remember my name. I was only there for a couple hours.” “And that was my mistake. I... I’m sorry.” My lips curl. “That apology sounded like it was physically painful for you.”
Emil cuts a glare my way, but his shoulders soften. “I’m not used to doing... this.” “Doing what?” “Admitting I was wrong.” He sucks in a breath and spreads his palms toward me. “Please, Dani. My kids need someone, and they’ve never liked any of the other nannies enough to ask about them. Ms. Delmar said there was no one else.” “How flattering,” I deadpan. “You just want me to come back because there’s literally no one else available.” Emil growls, the noise so low it rattles through my chest —then lower. No, I should refuse. I’m attracted to this man on a primal level. Some soft, feminine part of me wants to purr at the thought of being near him. Working in his home is a bad, bad idea. I should refuse. Plus—the only reason he’s here is because Talia happened to take a liking to me. He doesn’t actually want me. I’m going to embarrass myself. “I can’t,” I hear myself saying. “Not after... what happened.” “At the Summer Ball?” He takes another st ep toward me, and damn my heart for skipping a beat. I nod. “So we forget about that. We set it aside, lock it away. It never happened. We’re both professionals.” He sucks in a breath. “Please, Dani.” A spark fires between my legs at the sound of his voice— the pleading tone in it. The need. I wonder how it would sound if he were begging me for something else? Squeezing my eyes shut, I banish the thought. That is exactly why I can’t work for him. But my body obviously hasn’t caught up to my brain, because I find myself draining my glass of wine and nodding. “Okay. Professionals. We start over.” “Tomorrow, seven o’clock?” He takes another st ep toward me, as if he can’t help himself from getting closer. Clenching his hands into fists, Emil stills his st eps. Stiffens his spine. Hardens his gaze. I nod. “See you then.” Without another word, he turns around and walks away. The door closes, and I hear a whistle from behind my shoulder. Bonnie’s leaning against her bedroom door, arching a brow. “Girl, there is something you’re not telling me, because that man wants to strip you down and eat you up.” “I wish,” I grumble, then flush red all the way to the tips of my ears. Bonnie just grins.