The Rejected Wife: Chapter 32

I keep my head held high as I rush to my apartment, determined not to slip again. I was only trying to be nice. But instead of being grateful, he seemed pissed off.

Maybe I overstretched my role as Serene’s nanny, but I can’t seem to help myself. The instinct to feel needed, to feel wanted is something I feel strongly with him. I want to do more for him, to be something more for him than just a nanny to Serene, more than his employee. It’s a feeling which grows stronger, the more time I spend with him and Serene.

You would think the year I was away from him would have helped dampen my feelings for him, but it didn’t. And being this close to him daily, I find myself drawn to him even more. Attracted to him. Desiring him in a way that I shouldn’t. He’s Serene’s father. I am her nanny. I need to get over him, to keep our relationship professional, but I’m failing at it. It still doesn’t excuse how he spoke to me in front of the others. My cheeks heat even more.

I understand I may have overstepped my role as a nanny. I only wanted them to have a nice evening. And once Serene was asleep, I had time on my hands. I thought they could do with additional food. I thought I was being thoughtful when I went down with the platters. I thought he’d thank me. Instead, he told me to get lost, that jerkass.

I hear him call my name and increase the speed of my steps. Not that it helps; with his much longer legs, he catches up. ‘Wear your coat.’

‘I don’t need it.’

‘You’re chilled.’

‘I’m not,’ I lie. It’s only a short walk to my flat above the garage, but the temperature has dropped enough for goosebumps to snake up my skin.

‘Wear. Your. Coat. Cilla.’

The command in his voice is enough to stop me in my tracks. But it’s the word tacked on at the end which stops me. I turn to face him. ‘What did you call me?’

‘Priscilla?’ His forehead furrows.

‘You said, Cilla.’

‘So?’

‘You stopped calling me that when you asked me to leave your penthouse.’

‘Did I?’ He seems taken aback. “I never stopped thinking of you as Cilla.”

I blink. That… I did not expect to hear. “So, why did you stop calling me that?”

I allow him to place my coat about my shoulders. He smooths it down. The goosebumps intensify, not because of the cold, but because I can feel the warmth of his hand through the material.

‘When you turned down the role of Serene’s nanny at the coffee shop, you looked so pissed off. So angry and upset with me, I thought you wouldn’t want me to call you Cilla. That you’d prefer I kept some distance between us. Then, when you agreed to become Serene’s nanny, I felt it was best I address you in a more formal manner, to remind me of our professional roles. You were Serene’s nanny, and having you take care of her meant some level of sanity came back into my life. Trust me, I didn’t want to risk upsetting you and losing that.’ He chuckles, then rubs at his temple.

The act lends an air of vulnerability to him which stops me in my tracks. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t there when I met him the first time, or at the luncheon or even, the time I ran into him at The Fearless Kitten, and he offered me the role of Serene’s nanny.

Tyler Davenport, with his six-feet, four-inches of pure muscle, massive shoulders, and chest like a brick wall is, surely, unfazed by anything that comes his way? Except for a toddler who has him twisted around her little finger.

‘I’m sorry about what I said in there.’ He cracks his neck. ‘I was rude to you. And in front of my brothers and James. That is inexcusable.’

I blink. His apology throws me enough that I decide not to push for an answer. The very fact that he called me by my nickname tells me how far we’ve come in the weeks I’ve been here. That has to be enough, for now. Especially since, in the last few weeks since I’ve been Serene’s nanny, he’s kept his distance from me.

He’s been polite and helpful in explaining Serene’s routine and providing me with everything I need to take care of the little girl’s needs. When his second payment came in, I realized, it’s already been a month since I’ve been here.

The money has given me the kind of security I last had when I was a little girl and lived with my family. Or maybe it’s being this close to him that makes me feel safe? Maybe it’s because he owns the roof I live under that I sleep so well at night? My heart does a little flip in my chest.

‘Will you forgive me?’ His voice softens, and the look in his eyes is one of contrition. ‘I was very happy to see you walk in. And I didn’t like the way Connor looked at you, or how James appreciated your cooking, which made me ask you to leave in such an impolite manner.’

A quiver squeezes my chest. ‘You… You were jealous?’ Another shudder grips me, and I pull the jacket closer.

‘You’re cold.’ With a hand to my back, he guides me in the direction of the staircase at the side of the garage leading up to my apartment. It’s just a touch, but once again, it feels like he’s branded me. My entire body hums. Electricity crackles at my nerve endings. I’ll never get used to how my body reacts to being near him. I feel excited, and on edge, and nervous… A bit of everything. All emotions rolled into a ball of exhilaration which ping-pongs across my insides. I pull forward so his hand drops away. Then walk up the stairs and push open the door to my apartment. He walks in behind me. I shrug off the coat, place it on the coat stand near the door, then go straight to the kitchen area and put on the kettle.

I take two cups down from the shelf. Mainly so I can keep myself busy. ‘You want a cup of tea?’

He shakes his head. ‘I’m good.’

I make a cup for myself and place it on the tiny table.

He takes his seat opposite me. It’s not a big space, but with him in here, everything feels doll-sized. I feel doll-sized. I take my seat, then take a sip, allowing the hot liquid to warm me up from the inside.

“For the record, I prefer you calling me Cilla,” I murmur.

“And I prefer calling you Cilla.” He flashes me a smile which lights up his face and makes his eyes gleam. For a few seconds, he resembles the rake I thought he was when I met him on the tube. Then, he grows serious. ‘Arthur gave me an ultimatum yesterday.’

‘Oh?’ The hair on the back of my neck rises. Something in his tone jangles my nerves. Call it a sixth sense, but instinct tells me I don’t want to hear this.

I glance around the kitchen. ‘Do you want a biscuit? It’s not home baked. But it’s my favorite, Jammie Dodgers. Those are my weakness and⁠—’

‘He wants me to get married.’

My heart drops to my feet. My stomach heaves, and I can taste bile on my tongue. Specks of black spot my vision, and I feel like I’m going to faint. I look around wildly. I need to run out of here, before I do something stupid. Like vomit all over him. Or worse, faint like a character from a regency era romance. Get control of your emotions. Now. I curl my fingers into fists and take a deep breath, then another.

It’s not a surprise that Arthur gave him that ultimatum. After all, it was Arthur and my brother who came up with the plan for me to marry Knox. Subconsciously, I expected that Tyler might come under the same pressure. But I didn’t expect it to be so soon. I manage to bring my attention back to him.

‘Arthur…wants you to get married?’ I manage to croak.

‘It’s a condition for me to inherit my portion of the Davenport fortune.’

‘Oh.’ My heart boomerangs up to my chest, then past it, to lodge in my throat.

He has to marry to consolidate his inheritance? Of course, he does. Marriages are important when you come from money. It’s how families like mine traditionally kept control over their wealth.

But why is he telling me this? Is it because he’s going to marry someone else? OMG, no! He can’t be. I can’t stay here and see him with someone else. Which means, I’ll have to leave. But I don’t want to be away from Serene. I’ve bonded with the little girl more than any nanny should. I’m aware of that, but I haven’t been able to stop myself. So, what am I going to do?

I can’t go through losing him again, even though I haven’t actually gotten him back—but I was hoping we might get there in time. Omigod, omigod, omigod, I’m going to lose Serene! I’m going to lose my job. And just as things were getting back on track.

Sweat pools in my armpits. My heart races like the flapping wings of a butterfly in my chest. Deep breaths. Don’t hyperventilate.

‘Wh-What’—I swallow—’are you going to do?’ My voice is barely above a whisper. I can’t seem to take in enough breath.

He taps his finger on the table. ‘I can’t say no to Arthur. I want to make sure Serene gets her legacy.’

I nod; I can’t speak. I take another sip of my tea to soothe the stinging sensation that’s formed in my throat, but it doesn’t help. I set down my cup and clutch my fingers together in my lap. I can do this. Let it hurt. Then let it go.

‘Do you… Do you have someone in mind?’ As soon as the words are out, I curse myself. What do I care who he’s going to marry? Whoever it is, she’ll probably be a spoiled society princess. Someone like I might have turned out to be, had I not chosen not to. Someone who’ll be happy to hand over childcare duties to me. That’s the best-case scenario because the thought of being separated from Tyler and Serene is unimaginable. I want to say something more but can’t seem to form the words.

‘I do.’ He looks straight into my eyes. ‘It’s someone I’ve had on my mind for a while. Someone I have amazing chemistry with. Someone who is gorgeous inside and out. Someone, who not only has the most incredible curves, but also a beautiful soul. Someone who is kind and generous, and also quirky, and never fails to liven up the atmosphere when she walks into a room. Someone I trust. Someone who I know will take good care of Serene.’

My heart bounces back into my throat, and if he says one more word, I’m afraid I’ll lose it. So, he does have a woman in his life? I didn’t think he did. I haven’t seen any woman coming around, so I just assumed he was single. Given how hands-on he likes to be with Serene, I assumed there was no other woman in his life. But I never asked him. Was I wrong? And he trusts her with Serene? But I’ve never seen anyone else interacting with Serene. This can’t be happening. Is this his way of letting me down gently? Telling me I’m out of a job? I feel like someone is choking me.

‘So… You have a g-girlfriend?’ I say through lips that feel numb. He certainly played the role of harassed father who had no time for anything or anyone else so well that I believed him. But all along, he’s been dating someone else? That cad. Anger begins a slow boil in my tummy.

‘This woman is…the only other person who plays an important part in my life, other than Serene. In fact, I went ahead and got a ring for her.’ He pulls a velvet box from his pocket and places it on the table between us.

‘B-but I haven’t seen anyone else around here…’ I say through gritted teeth. The anger boils up, spreading to my extremities. My entire body trembles with suppressed rage while disappointment is like an anchor embedded in my chest.

I look around the space again. Can I make an excuse and get out of here? Too bad, we’re in my apartment, otherwise, I’d have left already. And the place is owned by him, so I can’t ask him to leave. Oh, my God. This is crazy. I can’t sit here and listen to him spout praise for some other woman, can I? As for that…box? I can’t bear to look at it. I can’t.

‘Uh… I… I think I need another cup of tea.’ Maybe something stronger? But I only have wine. I need…a shot of tequila, or perhaps, vodka? Yes, vodka, neat. But I can’t really pour liquor and toss it back in front of the person who is, for all purposes, my employer and who’s child I’m responsible for. I settle for: ‘Actually, I… I’m out of sugar. I need to run out of get some.’

I jump up and try to inch away, when he growls, ‘Sit down.’ Then, he shakes his head. ‘Damn, I’m not doing a good job of this.” He draws in a deep breath and seems to get himself under control. “Please?’ He urges me in a much softer voice.

I sit down. And not only because he said the P-word. That dominance in his tone…does funny things to my insides. I can’t refuse him. Even though, this is the last place I want to be.

He pulls the ring from the box and holds it up. The light coming in through the window bounces off the golden-brown gemstone with a silky glow that shifts across the surface. The stone is oval cut and placed in a six-pronged setting, with the band itself made of rose-gold.

‘It’s beautiful.’ I’m unable to take my gaze off of it. It’s not mine. It’s not for me. Yet… It’s so gorgeous. So special. I feel like it’s calling to me.

‘It belonged to my grandmother.’

He means Arthur’s now-dead wife.

‘She left behind a piece of jewelry for each of her sons and grandsons to give to their future wives.’ And he wants to give it to her. So, he feels something for her? He must. That’s the only reason he’d give her a family heirloom as a ring.

My heart vacates my body, leaving an empty cavity in my chest. My pulse booms in my temples so loudly, I can barely hear myself think. Which is strange, given I don’t have a heart anymore. So how can the blood still be pumping in my body? How can I still be alive and listening to him go on about another woman? Bloody hell. Where’s your self-respect? Get out of here; leave before you say something you’re going to regret.

‘Can you try it on?’ he rumbles.

‘What?’ I jerk my chin in his direction. ‘No,’ I burst out, ‘I can’t do that.’

His eyebrows knit. He rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck, then once more, fixes me with his hypnotic heterochromatic gaze, “I want to see how it looks.’

What’s that got to do with me? My thoughts spiral, clawing at anything that might make sense. This is…some special kind of hell he’s putting me through.

If you survive this, imagine what else you’re capable of?

Another self-help platitude, which seems particularly apt for this situation. Only, it’s easier to read and far more difficult to implement in real life.

‘Please.” His throat bobs. “I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.’

What the— Why does he look as desperate as I feel? Something in his voice—low, rough, full of something close to agony—cuts through the storm in my head. I swing my gaze to his and, oh shoot, that was a mistake.

The plea in those stunning mismatched eyes makes my breath catch. What’s he up to?

The first slivers of doubt pierce the panic that grips my mind. No, surely not… He doesn’t mean to… Nah. Not possible.

But the thought sparks, catches, spreads like wildfire. My heart pounds so hard in my chest, I’m sure it’s going to crack through my rib cage. I can feel the blood rush in my ears. The world shrinks to him, to this, to now.

When I don’t react, he holds out his hand. Not forceful. Not demanding. Just… Steady. Certain.

As if he did a mind-meld, I place my hand in his.

He slips it onto my left ring finger.