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“Look,” I tell him. “I don’t have the energy to go into the city tonight, and even if I did, I don’t think it’s a good idea. If I were you, I’d just get myself acquainted with the estate and the rest of the staff and try to settle in.” I head off toward the house and pause, looking at him over my shoulder. “There’s a bar in the library where most of us spend our evenings. Feel free to help yourself.”
I go up the steps, and even though I’m bundled up like Stay Puft, I can feel his eyes on my ass. That part of him definitely hasn’t changed either.
I decide to be smart and spend the rest of my night off in my room, skipping dinner because listening to everyone ask James questions and hearing him talk with that damn sexy brogue of his is bound to piss me off further. Then again, the longer I stay in my room, attempting to read a psychological thriller from the growing collection on my bookshelf, the more my brain wants to stew on what’s happening out there. And the more I start thinking about James, the more I start realizing that everything about my job has now changed, possibly forever, or at least until one of us quits. And quitting is not an option.
Though, to be honest, my role as nanny has not been the easy job I thought it would be. Ella and Magnus are lovely, very down-to-earth people, and I do appreciate the zany family atmosphere here. Everyone is easy to get along with and friendly (if a little up in your business), and I crave that sense of stability, especially when it feels like things with my grandmother are so precarious.
But the boys…whew. I want to love them, and I hang on to the belief that in time I will grow closer to them. But Bjorn is an absolute terror who doesn’t listen to me no matter what I do, and while Tor is young, he’s impossible to keep happy. He cries at the drop of a hat. As a result, we don’t go into public that often. When we do, the Norwegian tabloids always either comment on me, being the poor forsaken nanny who is in over her head (case in point, when Bjorn smashed a chocolate ice cream cone in my face, creating a wonderful photo op), or they make fun of the kids. I know it hurts Magnus and Ella to read it, and in time, the boys will realize how unfairly they’ve been treated.
Anyway, I can see why a protection officer is needed, because the older the boys get, the more they’ll be out and about, and the more that we’ll need protection. I just never thought it would be James taking on the role, swooping back into my life like a disgraced knight in tarnished armor, about to upturn everything for good.
•••
I wake up with the lights on in my room and the paperback on my face.
Crap. I fell asleep.
And from the way my stomach is growling, perhaps skipping dinner wasn’t such a good idea.
Then I remember the reason why I skipped dinner.
James Hunter.
Why, oh why, is he here? I know he already used the whole “of all the gin joints” Casablanca line, but seriously, why did he have to walk into mine?
I groan and roll over, glancing at my phone. It’s almost midnight. At least everyone should be asleep. I’ll just go into the kitchen and see if there are any leftovers. The cook, Sigrid, probably made extra food, not knowing how much James would eat.
I get up, put on my slippers, and head out into the hall. It’s dark down this wing, save for a few sconce lights, and I’m extra careful not to alert James in case he still sleeps lightly.
Shit. How annoying is it that I know how he sleeps? (Naked, actually, and on his stomach, facing away from you, arm tucked under the pillow.)
I make my way to the kitchen, not at all surprised to see Lady Jane sitting at the table in her fluffy leopard-print robe, drinking a giant cup of some lavender Valium concoction. She often battles her insomnia at this time of night.
“There you are,” she says to me, and pats the seat beside her. “Here. Come sit down. Let me make you a tea. Or food. You hungry? Oh, you must be hungry. You didn’t have any dinner. Are you feeling all right? Feverish?”
I can’t even get a word in before she’s coming toward me and pressing the back of her hand on my forehead. “You do feel a little warm,” she says.
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “Just came to get a snack before I go back to sleep.”
One of the benefits of living in the same house as the royals, and having them treat you as family, is having unfettered access to the kitchen and bar. Anything you want, any time of day, you just go right on ahead and get it. When I worked for the Fairfaxes, we (the help) were sectioned off in our own house and quarters, so we didn’t have quite the same “family” atmosphere as we do here. It’s one of the reasons why, even when the going gets tough, I like working here.
“But you weren’t at dinner,” Jane says, sitting back down. “Magnus said he gave you the night off. I thought maybe you’d gone out.”
I laugh, opening up the fridge. “That would be a first.”
“That’s what I said, though I also thought you would deserve it.” She pauses. “You know I worry about you, Laila.”
“Why?” I ask, pulling out a dish of cold roasted lemon potatoes. That’s good enough for me. I close the fridge door and give her an expectant look. Lady Jane has looked after Ella for a long time, and now that she has Magnus and her children, I feel Jane’s overbearing tendencies being directed toward me.
“Well, because you’re so young and single.”
My eyes roll to the ceiling. Good lord. “Twenty-eight isn’t so young.”
“I’m thirty years older than you,” she points out.
“Well, you don’t act like it,” I tell her, grabbing a fork and taking the potatoes over to the table. “If anything, I should be worried about you. Why are you still single? Huh?”
Her eyes narrow wickedly. “You know why. No one is good enough for me.”
