Chapter 8

LAYLA

Briggs was quiet during the short drive from Shangri-La to Mount Sinai. We were in the large SUV that day. He sat in the back. I was in the middle.

It was exciting and a bit scary, knowing those seats would soon be also ferrying tiny babies.

Arriving at the rear entrance to the hospital, we found it barred by a large metal barricade. Two security guards stood around.

Vlad rolled down his window and spoke to them briefly before they let us drive past.

When we entered the hospital, we were escorted to the private elevator by Vlad, a hospital security guard, and another one of Briggs’s own crew.

I stood in the back corner of the elevator with my head down. I felt so tiny standing next to all those huge men. But I felt safe.

When we reached the seventeenth floor, Mary was waiting for us by the nurse’s station. I knew right away it was her, just by how she was dressed.

“I thought you were kidding,” I mumbled to Briggs.

“Nope,” he smirked.

Mary wore a long-sleeved navy-blue dress that stopped just above her ankles. Black lace-up boots showed under the hem.

On her head was a tilted blue cobalt hat with an orange flower pinned to the side, her hair tucked neatly inside. I didn’t see an umbrella, but she was carrying a rather large handbag.

“Mr. Westinghouse,” she said, revealing a strong British accent, “good to see you again.”

Did this woman actually think she was Mary Poppins? She certainly dressed for that effect.

“Mary, this is Layla Lucas,” he said, resting his hand on my lower back. A slight tremor shot through me when he touched my body. He caressed me gently with his thumb while I struggled to regain my composure.

“Nice to meet you, Layla,” she said, holding out her hand. She was surprisingly strong for a middle-aged woman. “I’m glad to have some help. Three babies are a handful.”

“Layla is the triplets’ aunt,” Briggs explained.

“Oh!” she gasped, failing to hide her shock. But she recovered quickly, a warm smile spreading across her face. “I think it’s wonderful that they will have a family member caring for them.”

“Dr. Peppergrew is waiting in the nursery to go over some things with you, Mr. Westinghouse,” the nurse at the desk said.

I helped Mary and Bernice dress the babies in the matching outfits I picked from their wardrobes. Briggs’s housekeeper had shopped for the newborns after the results of the paternity test came back.

Most of the stuff she bought had already been shipped to the house in the Muskokas, but Briggs had a few clothes sent to his place in Toronto.

“Who’s Whooo?” Bernice chuckled, reading the slogan on the matching sleepers with the owls on them.

“Briggs has no idea,” I whispered.

“No idea about what?” he asked, placing his hand on the small of my back again. What was up with him? Bernice shot me an inquisitive glance before turning to attend to George.

I finished snapping on Jerome’s sleeper, all the while trying to ignore the tingling in my lady parts, and the man responsible for them.

“Layla?”

“Yes?” I asked innocently.

“You never answered my question.”

“Which one?”

“What do I have no idea about?”

“Oh, nothing.”

He leaned in close to me, his lips grazing my earlobe as he whispered softly enough so that nobody else might hear. “I ~will~ get it out of you later.”

Blood rushed to my ears, heat rising in my cheeks as my brain went into overdrive. What did he mean? How was he planning to get me to reveal what I meant?

Dirty images filled my mind before I mentally smacked myself. What kind of nanny/aunt thinks about S–E–X while holding a baby?

***

Bernice came down to the car with us, along with a team of security guards. Briggs must have been really worried that the paparazzi might get wind of the triplets’ release.

Once we had all the babies buckled in, Bernice pulled me in for a hug, squeezing me so hard I’d probably have a broken rib if it weren’t for my big boobs.

“You take care of yourself,” she whispered. “And keep in touch. I want regular updates on these little men.”

“I will,” I said, fighting back tears. “I promise.”

“Be careful,” she said, giving me one last squeeze.

“I doubt I can get into too much trouble in a place called Hidden Lake.”

“Just keep your head on straight, girl,” she warned.

“We need to get going,” Briggs said. “Thank you for everything, Bernice.”

“Take good care of those boys. They’re counting on you.”

“I won’t let them down.”

***

The babies slept through the entire ninety-minute trip north. Mary sat in the back with George, and I sat in the middle seat with Jerome and Harris.

Briggs sat up front in the passenger seat. Once we were out of the city and heading north, he took off his ball cap and sunglasses.

When we reached Barrie, we exited Highway 400 and headed east on a four-lane road, the traffic getting progressively lighter. I gazed out the window at the lush trees and fields dotting the rural landscape.

My smog-laden lungs were already feeling healthier.

What would the air up north smell like? If it wasn’t for the babies, I might have rolled down the window and stuck my head out like a dog. I giggled softly at the image. What would Briggs think?

Naturally, Mary Poppins would probably ground me for unladylike behavior. She seemed a tad uptight.

“Something you’d like to share with the class?” Briggs teased.

I whipped my head around to find him watching me, his giant body twisted around in the passenger seat with a grin of amusement dancing on his lips.

“No,” I said, pretending to examine my fingernails.

“I see,” he chuckled. “So, I have a nanny who randomly laughs out loud for no reason?”

“I didn’t laugh out loud!” I protested.

“No,” he agreed. “It was more like a cute little giggle.”

My cheeks ignited. Why was Briggs flirting with me in front of Mary and Vlad? I might be an inexperienced virgin, but I had read enough romance novels to recognize flirting. And my boss was definitely guilty of it.

I pretended to fuss over the babies. They were both sound asleep, but I had to do something other than look at Briggs. Maybe if I ignored him he would turn around and behave himself.

“Have you ever been to the Muskokas, Layla?” he inquired. This guy was persistent.

“Why yes,” I replied in a high-pitched, fake accent. “We had a summerhouse on Lake Forrichsnobs when I was growing up. It was to die for.

“Every year, on the last day of school mom would pick us up in her pink Cadillac and we’d drive up here and stay until Labor Day. We’d lounge in the pool all day, dining on caviar and the like, or we’d spend the day on our yacht.”

I met his shocked gaze head-on. His jaw dropped and snapped shut as quickly, brows furrowing as he tried to formulate a response to my tall tale.

Mary beat him to the punch. “Lake Forrichsnobs,” she snickered, gently. Well, then. Mary had a sense of humor. Maybe she wasn’t as snooty as I had reckoned.

I turned around, throwing her a sheepish grin.

“I grew up in a trailer park,” I explained. “We didn’t own a summerhouse. We didn’t own any house, just rented a rundown mobile home. I’ve never been anywhere.”

“It’s not how you start, dear,” she gave me a warm, motherly smile. “It is how you finish. Many successful people have very humble origins.”

“I’ve never been anywhere,” I repeated, unable to stem the words tumbling out of my mouth as I opened up to a complete stranger.

Maybe she represented a mother figure I never had growing up. I couldn’t really say for sure. But whatever it was, it made me comfortable enough to share something really embarrassing and pathetic.

“Like, literally nowhere. This is the first time I’ve left the city. The furthest I’d ever been prior to today was on a class trip to Black Creek Pioneer Village.”

Silence fell in the car. I didn’t want anyone’s pity. But seeing Mary’s expression of melancholy, I turned around in my seat and pulled out my phone.

“Remember, no location sharing on your social media apps,” Briggs reminded me, glancing briefly over his shoulder.

I guess we were shifting to an employer-and-employee relationship now. Probably for the best. But I liked playful, flirty Briggs much better than Mr. Westinghouse, my boss.

We passed the exit for Huntsville and continued north on Highway 11. They even had a Walmart Supercenter way up north. Would Vlad drive me there to do the shopping?

Briggs had a housekeeper who probably did that. What if I needed something? How would I get to the store?

What if I was making a huge mistake? How would I get back to Toronto? I’d never lived anywhere else but Dorset Meadows. Everything I needed there was within walking distance, or reachable by the subway or the city bus.

My anxiety only increased, the farther we traveled from Huntsville. Where was this house anyway? I should’ve asked more questions before I accepted the job.

My stomach twisted into knots when Vlad turned off the highway. There was nothing but trees lining both sides of the narrow road, towering monsters that reached up to the sky.

Were there bears in these woods? Probably. I might never be able to take the babies for a walk.

Vlad drove for miles more before we finally arrived at a wrought iron gate that magically swung open when we stopped in front of it.

A shiver ran down my spine when the gates closed behind us. I knew I was being silly, but I was a city girl. I would need some time to adjust to this drastic change of surroundings.

We came to a clearing in the trees. I don’t know what I was expecting, but Briggs’s ~summerhouse~ was a freakin’ mansion!

A lump the size of Texas formed in my throat as I took in the sprawling, two-story log home set against a backdrop of lofty spruce and the bluest lake I’d ever seen.

This wasn’t saying a lot, considering the only lake I’d laid eyes on was Lake Ontario, and it was definitely not blue.

Vlad drove around to the attached four-car garage, one large door of which rolled up as we approached.

The garage was immaculate. Shelves lined one wall, housing neatly organized tools and gardening supplies. Labeled recycling and garbage bins stood next to the door.

The garage housed a four-wheeler, a snowmobile, and a lawn tractor. And on the far side stood a car covered in a tarp.

We unloaded the babies and followed Briggs into a laundry room, passing a staircase before rounding a corner into a large kitchen.

Briggs’s house was nothing like his condo. Instead of white walls, glass, and marble, I found myself in a large, homey, man cave.

Wooden floors and walls, a massive stone fireplace, and black leather furniture announced loud and clear that the occupant of this abode had a penis.

Sunlight flooded through floor-to-ceiling windows facing the lake, and two sets of garden doors led out to a large terrace.

“Your home is absolutely breathtaking!” Mary gushed.

“Thank you,” Briggs said, setting Jerome’s car seat on the oak table. “I hope the boys will be happy here.”

“How could they not be?” I asked, my eyes darting around the large room. “Any kid would be lucky to call this place home.”

“Why don’t we get these guys settled upstairs,” Briggs suggested.

I followed Briggs and Mary out to the massive foyer, where a wide staircase led up to the second floor. When we reached the top, I glanced over the railing at the main floor.

Shelly would give her left kidney to live here. She would be livid when she found out I was working for Briggs. Probably best for all concerned to keep the information under wraps.