The Rejected Wife: Chapter 26

I let Serene lead me to her room. As we walk away, I glance back and catch Tyler watching us, his expression unreadable.

“Aren’t you coming?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “She’s comfortable with you. I could use the time to catch up on my emails.”

I pause.

Serene tugs on my hand, but I tell her in a firm voice, “One minute, Sweetie, I need to talk to your father.” Serene’s gaze widens.

I’m sure she’s about to protest but instead, she stops and waits.

“I’m a virtual stranger.” I shift my gaze in his direction. “You should not allow another adult help bathe your child unless they’re formally hired and had a background check done.”

His tilts his head. “I know you and your family. I trust you. And consider yourself hired… If you’ll take the job, that is.”

When I hesitate, Serene pulls on my dress. “Bath time?” she asks in an impatient voice.

She looks so cherubic that I can’t stop myself from leaning down and hauling her up in my arms.

“Okay.” I smile at Serene. “Yes, I’ll take the job.”

I sense the tension roll off his shoulders. When I sneak a peek at him, there’s a relieved smile on his lips. “You have no idea how much that means to me.” He runs his hands through his hair. The way the motion strains the cuffs of his shirt makes my heart wobble. Damn. I need to shield myself against this man’s appeal. Professional. I need to be professional. I’m here to do a job. And I owe it to Serene to do it well. I owe it to her to not complicate things by lusting after her father.

“I’ll message you my passport details, et cetera, so you can run a background check.”

“That’s not necessary—” he begins but I shake my head.

“It’s best we do things by the book, don’t you think?”

He tilts his head. Another inscrutable look crosses his eyes. “Of course.” He nods. “Once you’ve bathed and put her to bed, join me in the study, and we’ll work out the payment terms, et cetera.”

Before I can ask him if he wants to put her to bed himself, he spins around and heads off. I’m guessing he’s in a hurry to get back to his work.

I fill the bathtub and help Serene bathe. She plays with her toys in the tub and obediently comes out when I tell her it’s time. I have a feeling she’s on her best behavior because she knows it’s my first day. She probably wants to impress me. Children are more astute than one realizes. They have a sense for what’s happening around them and are very good at picking up signals from adults.

When I’ve dried and dressed her and tucked her under the covers, I pick up the book she wants me to read from. It’s The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Seuss. I begin to read from it, and she slides down in the bed. Every time I look at Serene, her eyelids are drooping, but she keeps propping them open. She’s fighting sleep, and I can’t stop a small smile from curving my lips.

When she sits up in bed, I put the book down. ‘Do you want your papa to come tuck you in?’

Even as she begins to nod, a voice says from the doorway, ‘I’m here.’ He walks over to her. ‘You okay, honey?’ he asks softly.

To see this tough man acting so tenderly with his daughter brings a lump to my throat. And when Serene nods, that melting sensation spreads to my chest. To my surprise, I find tears pricking the backs of my eyes. There’s no reason to feel this moved, this emotional, is there? And yet, I can’t stop myself from feeling incredibly moved as I watch this man tuck his daughter into bed.

‘Tell me a story.’ She looks at him with her big, brown eyes which, although a different color, are shaped like his. His hair is jet black, and I notice the flecks of gray at his temple, which I don’t remember him having a year ago. Nothing ages you like becoming a parent, responsible for another life. Serene’s hair is chestnut-colored with streaks of copper woven through them. But her features are so similar to his.

He reaches for the book I put down on the nightstand. Lying down next to her, he holds it up so she can also read.

She shakes her head. ‘No, read me the one about the stars.’

He picks up another book from the bedside table. When he holds it up, I see the title, Where the Stars Always Shine.

From the packaging it looks, not like a book which was mass produced, but like one which was printed specifically for her.

He begins to read.

“Once upon a time, under a sky full of stars, a baby girl was born. She had tiny fingers, a sleepy smile, and a quiet little sigh.”

Serene cuddles closer. He continues reading.

“Her mother loved her very much. But love alone wasn’t enough to give her the life she hoped for her baby.

“With a heart full of hope and sorrow, she put her baby into a carrier. She said goodbye with a kiss and carried that goodbye forever.”

I swallow around the ball of emotion in my throat, remembering how we found Serene on his doorstep.

“The baby girl went to a new home. There, her father was waiting, ready to give her all he had.

“She grew up in a home filled with bedtime stories, badly made pancakes on Sundays, and warm hugs that lasted a long time.”

He hugs Serene, and she giggles, then throws her arm over his chest.

“She learned to ask big questions. She wondered where she came from. And sometimes, she missed someone she didn’t remember.

“Her father never had all the answers. But he always listened. And he never stopped loving her, not for a second.”

He kisses her forehead. She turns to him. “I love you, too, Papa.”

“I know, Poppet.” His gaze meets mine over the book. There’s a sadness in them I haven’t seen before. The air between us heats. The moment stretches. Then he looks down at the book, and it’s lost. He continues reading.

“She carried two stories: The one that began with goodbye. And one that kept growing with love, every day. And wherever life leads her, some things will always be true: She is loved. She is real. She belongs.”

He closes the book and lowers it. Serene’s fast asleep with her head on his shoulder. He gently places her head on the pillow.

It feels like I’m intruding on a moment that’s personal, something which should be shared only by father and daughter.

I back away, then head out of the room, down the stairs and into the kitchen, where I get myself a glass of water. Then, because I’m curious about his place—which is so different from the penthouse where I last visited him— I wander up the hallway. I peek into a room and, ooh, find it’s a library with bookshelves lining the walls. A fire is crackling in the hearth, and it feels so inviting. I walk in, and when I draw in a breath, I can smell the spicy and very male scent of his above that of the burning logs. The desk and chair in the corner facing the room has a computer screen, a keyboard, and enough paper to indicate he must use this as his home office. I can feel his presence here strongly.

A shiver grips me. My nipples turn into points of need. Damn. He’s not even here, but if I close my eyes, I can pretend I’m being embraced by him. I draw in another breath, allowing it to both arouse me and calm me, an oxymoron I’ve always associated with Tyler. Then, I head for the books on the shelves.

Dragging my finger down the spines, I take in the titles. Atomic Habits by James Clear, Deep Work by Carl Newport, The Design of Everyday Things by Don Norman… Interesting. These are similar to the self-help books I gravitate toward.

Then I come across Dude, You’re Gonna Be a Dad!: How to Get (Both of You) Through the Next 9 Months by John Pfeiffer, and The Single Dad’s Survival Guide: How to Succeed as a One-Man Parenting Team by Michael A. Klumpp.

I sense his presence and look up to find him walking into the study. “That was a beautiful story. It was about Serene, wasn’t it?”

“That’s her life storybook.” He crosses over to the wet bar. “Would you like white wine?”

I nod, grateful he didn’t take me for granted and pour it for me. For a macho alpha male, it’s incredible that he doesn’t order me around in real life. In bed though… That’s another matter. And he’s already shown me he’s dominant and a beast when it comes to assuaging my wants. My cheeks heat in recollection. I pull my thoughts back to the present

“Life storybook?”

‘She had so many questions about her mother… I kept as close to the truth as I could, but put her life into a story form,’ he explains, turning to me with a snifter of whiskey in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. ‘Her therapist said it would be an empathetic way for her to understand her past and deal with the trauma of separation.”

“Wow, that’s a great way to introduce her to her past.”

He nods. “I thought so, too. This way, whenever she asks about her mother, I can pick up the book, and we read from it together. As she grows older, I can introduce more information to her in an age-appropriate manner. I hope it will help her get more familiar with her own history and eventually, help her in creating her own identity.”

He walks over to his desk, places my wine in front of one of the chairs, then heads over to sit in the armchair behind the desk. He looks right at home there. From frazzled Dad who loves his daughter, to smoldering business executive who wields his power like it’s an invisible whip so mere mortals bow down to him, to the demanding yet unselfish lover who made sure to pleasure every inch of my body while ignoring his own needs, Tyler Davenport is one fine man. It’s going to be a challenge to keep my emotions in tow and focus on the job at hand.

I slip into the chair, take a sip of my wine, which is crisp and refreshing. “This is so good.” I take another sip.

“It’s the same one you had the day we met.”

“Oh?” I’m not sure what to make of that revelation. Does he mean he bought it because I had it that day? “You remember what I drank that day?”

“I remember everything about that day.” His voice turns gritty. The air between us sizzles. It’s like he’s reliving exactly what happened that day and night. I sure haven’t forgotten it. But… The last thing I want to do is dwell on it. Not when he’s the one who asked me to leave.

“What about her mother?” I ask, not because I want to know. Okay, I do want to know, but I’m already jealous of whoever she is. Which is not good. I really need to get control of myself. Besides, the only reason I need to know about Serene’s mother is so that I’ll do a better job of being her nanny, right?

“I tracked her down. But before I could ask her about Serene, she left the country. Her tracks proved difficult to pick up, even for my investigators. Meanwhile, the DNA tests were conclusive. Serene is my daughter.”