The Rejected Wife: Chapter 24

‘What are you doing here?’ The impact of those mismatched eyes feels like I’ve slammed headfirst into an immovable object. One, glacial blue, resembles an icicle which could lance through my chest and draw blood. The other, an untamed golden-green, brims with feral energy. Taken together, they’re a fierce contradiction, a clash of elements, untamed and unrelenting; a warning as much as they are a lure.

I drink in his patrician nose, the high, diamond-hard cheekbones, the angles of his jaw, the cords of his throat standing out against his skin. When he folds his arms across his chest, the biceps strain the button-down he’s wearing… All of it hints at tightly leashed power.

I forgot how much of a full body impact meeting Tyler is. I clutch the straps of my handbag—the same one he rescued from being crushed by the doors of the train—for support. Then tilt my head back, and further back, so I can meet his gaze. Not that I forgot his height. Or the breadth of his shoulders that fill the doorway to his house.

Clearly, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Every part of him seems harder and more unforgiving than when I last saw him. He’s all angles and harsh edges. But something beneath those edges calls to me, deeper than it should. Except for the shadows under his eyes, and the hollows under his cheekbones. Together with his rumpled hair and the loosened tie, as well as the rolled-up sleeves of his shirts, it only adds to his sexiness. Goddamn. Tyler in his single dad era is going to be my downfall. I’ve never been attracted to the fathers of the children I took care of before this.

But this guy! In the year since I first met him, his appeal has skyrocketed. He was—and still is—that billionaire alphahole who has a confident, I-own-the-earth air about him. But it’s tempered with something else in his eyes. Something that makes him more humane, more approachable. Something that makes me ache. A shiver squeezes my belly. My pussy clenches.

One look at him, and I want to climb him like a tree and lick him all over. Ugh. This is bad. You should go. Pivot and walk out of here. You must be out of your mind to think about coming here for the job.

His eyebrows knit over his nose. There’s a question in his eyes, but his expression is not unkind. Far from that. He takes me in from head to toe, and back to my face, like he can’t believe I’m here. Is that my imagination or… Is he happy to see me? And I don’t mean in that way. Though I would be thrilled if he were happy to see me in that way too. He’s looking at me like I’m something he thought he’d lost.

He’s looking at me with desperation. With relief. With something very close to signaling that he missed me.

He clears his throat. “Priscilla⁠—”

It’s like someone took a pin to the bubble of hope building in my chest. He called me Priscilla. Not Cilla. The shift lands like a slap. His tone is formal. Distant. I was mistaken in what I saw in his eyes. Maybe, he stopped seeing me as the woman he once brought home? The one he said he saw a future with? Maybe, everything between us has changed since I last saw him?

My mind spins, questions crashing into each other—but even through the ache, I can’t stop drinking him in. Like I always do.

He’s so big, and the heat from his body is so intense, it feels like I’m standing in front of a furnace. Or the gates of heaven?

Nope, not going there. Not when I’m here to do a job as a professional.

“Can I come in?”

I’m sure he won’t refuse. Still, I’m relieved when he steps aside. I walk past him, the heat of his body wrapping around mine like memory, trying hard not to breathe in deeply of that very masculine, musky scent of his as I do.

I survey the hallway, which has a table on which are keys, spare change, a soft toy. The table is high enough that it’s out of reach of an almost two-year-old. The soft toy is familiar. It relaxes me further. I take in the hooks on the wall.

From one hangs a man’s coat, XXL-size. Clearly, his. On the others are a couple of smaller coats. One pink. One purple with unicorn motifs. From the living room, the sound of a children’s program reaches me. Peppa Pig, if I’m not mistaken.

The remaining tension drains from my body.

‘I’m here for the nanny position,’ I declare.

Silence greets me. I turn to find him staring at me. Those heterochromatic eyes of his grow wide. His thick eyebrows draw down. That beautiful face, which has haunted my dreams for the last year, takes on an expression of hurt. One which confuses me.

It’s as if he expected me to say I’m here to be your girlfriend, but I said something else entirely. His chest rises and falls. Then he shakes his head and seems to compose himself. “You’re here for the nanny position?’

‘I heard you’re still looking?”

The groove between his eyebrows deepens. “How did you find out?” His forehead clears. ‘Wait. You’re the person Aura referred for the childcare position?’

I nod. “You are still looking to fill the position, aren’t you?”

A light seems to come on in his eyes. Bit by bit, his shoulders unclench. Huh. Apparently, he was taken aback to see me and wasn’t sure why I was here.

“I know, I turned it down then, but⁠—”

He raises his hand. “Say no more. You’re here; that’s what matters.”

“Oh.” I swallow; my throat tight. He’s not making me feel more uncomfortable than I already do. There’s no cold distance, no wounded pride, no trace of anger from the last time I turned down his job offer. And he’s not gloating, not throwing it in my face that I’ve changed my mind. Instead, he’s making it feel like I’m doing him a favor by asking for the role.

“You’re making this awfully easy.” I’m unable to keep the suspicion out of my voice.

He must catch it, for his lips quirk. “No games. I promise.” He holds up his hands. “It’s not an exaggeration to say that I’ve been drowning, trying to take care of Serene while also doing my job, and⁠—’

‘Papa.” A small child toddles over to us, her little legs unsteady but determined.

His whole presence shifts—suddenly alert, protective. And then… Oh, my God. Something washes over him—love, raw and tender—and it changes everything about the way he holds himself. It steals the breath from my lungs and sends my heart stumbling in my chest.

This…this is the man I thought I knew—who I did know—briefly. This is the man who captivated me. This is the man I glimpsed under the harsh, unforgiving, demeanor when I first met him.

He turns and, bending down, hoists the little girl up in his arms. The sight of that little poppet in those massive arms, nestled against his massive chest, turns my insides to mush and sends my ovaries into hyperdrive. Sweet Mother of Divine Timing. Now I know, I really did make a mistake coming here. Seeing him hold that little child fills my insides with all kinds of weird longing.

I take in the tiny tot with the cloud of chestnut curls surrounding her cherubic face. I can spot the traces of the infant whose nappy I changed that day.

Serene looks at me with her big brown eyes which seem to have turned more golden since I last saw them. You can see through to her soul. Innocent. Nothing to hide.

Unlike his heterochromatic gaze which hints at secrets—layers upon layers. You know, there’s a heart somewhere inside…but you need to chip away to get to it.

The memories of that day at his penthouse would catch me unaware, in my weakest moments; when I wondered how they were. How he’d coped. If he’d found the mother of the child. If he was together with the mother—which I learned at the lunch, he was not. If the child was definitely his? And now, I know.

The shape of her eyes is even more similar to his. That’s what I thought the first time I saw the little girl, and the resemblance is even stronger now. Now that she’s older, she reminds me of him even more. The angle of her stubborn jaw and the tiny nose… All of that is a lot like his.

She may be the cutest child I’ve ever seen. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard parents say that about their own child, and I always resist rolling my eyes. Every parent thinks their child is the cutest one ever. But in this case, without the blinders that parents wear, I can objectively say, she’s absolutely adorable.

Of course, seeing Tyler in the flesh is nothing compared to the images of him I’ve carried in my mind. He’s bigger, brawnier, larger-than-life, than I remember. And the chemistry between us… It affects me in a way that turns my memories into pale imitations of this inferno that thrums between us.

Taking in the protective way in which he holds the child, it’s clear, he loves her.

Steeling myself against Tyler’s appeal was bad enough. Add Serene to the mix, and I know, I won’t escape unscathed. I’ll lose my heart to both of them, and I can’t afford that. Not when he only sees me as a nanny. Not when I want more from him. I thought I’d be able to protect myself against his appeal but seeing him—seeing both of them together—tells me I don’t stand a chance. If I have an iota of self-preservation left, I’m going to get out of here.

“Umm… Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.” I am about to step back when the munchkin lurches from his arms toward me.