Page 4 of A Convenient Secret (Merged #3)

The concierge puts the receiver down. “He’s been expecting you. Come.”

“Thank you…” I glimpse his name tag. “Karl.”

“You’re welcome. Good luck today. You might need it.” He hands me a handkerchief.

I take the white linen from him, puzzled.

“It must be hot outside.” He gives me a warm smile.

“Oh, yes, and I’ve been running to get here… very late.” I wipe my face and my neck. “I’ll wash it and get it back. Thank you.”

“Keep it, no worries. ”

The door opens, and he steps in and taps his card on the panel before pressing “P”.

I enter the car, and as the door closes, I try to take some courage from Karl’s kind face.

What am I even going to say? I know nothing about childcare. Not in a responsible adult way, anyway.

But I may be able to find someone, and he may not even notice. And if he does, I’d just confess. Or come up with another lie.

My head is spinning by the time the elevator opens. I step out into a small foyer; it’s all beige, and still completely different than our offices. Luxurious, soft, and welcoming.

Across from me is an arch that opens up into a living room, with a spectacular view of Central Park that stretches past the window wall on the other side.

I take a few steps. The living room is huge and pristine. Several large sofas create a focal point in the middle. There are pillars that break the open space, with twelve large chairs in a dining area on one side and a grand piano on the other side.

The entire room is lined with windows on all sides. It’s like a large, elegant greenhouse. It’s beautiful.

“Hello,” I call, and jump back when a person moves to my left. Jesus. I didn’t even notice someone was in the room.

My skittishness causes me to hit my elbow into the arch’s door frame. Third time is a charm. The pain reverberates up my arm.

The person crosses the room. It’s Declan’s mother. I saw her twice—the second time was just this Saturday at Saar’s.

She is tall and slender, dressed in a camel pantsuit with her hair styled in a perfect blowout.

I’m suddenly double-aware of my sweaty, disheveled appearance.

“Oh, it’s Lily, isn’t it? Did Declan call you as well?” She narrows her eyebrows. “Come on in.” She smiles at me.

I follow her around the sofas and the dining table into a large kitchen. While it’s kind of separated with two smartly positioned walls, it’s really a hidden part of the same open room. The spectacular view through the wall of windows is the dominant feature here as well.

“The mix-up with the nanny got him in a mood.” She sighs. “Coffee?”

I can’t imagine when her son isn’t in a mood. I stop by the square kitchen island. “No, thank you, Mrs. Quinn.” God, I need caffeine, but let’s get the ugly over with first. “The mix-up is unfortunate. I’m the replacement nanny.” My words come out in one rushed breath as I shrug.

She jerks her head and then smiles. “Oh, that’s great. I’m sorry I never asked you what you do. This is fantastic. So much better than a stranger. And call me Dorothy.”

I smile and hold my tongue, trying to limit how far my lie will stretch. Am I really becoming Declan’s nanny?

No.

I will find someone by the end of the day, and then explain everything.

“Lily, awe we going to the sheltew with Auntie?” Zoya runs into the kitchen from behind the corner, her huge eyes full of excitement.

“Not right now, Zoya.” I try to pretend I’m capable of this responsibility. “We need to get you to school.” The confidence in my voice is at odds with my fingers rapidly tapping on the sides of my thighs.

“I don’t want to go to school.” Zoya pouts.

“Sweetheart, go get your backpack and your brother. We’re running late as it is.” Dorothy leans down and kisses the girl’s head. Zoya opens her mouth, but her granny swats her bum gently. “Off you go. No arguments.”

The little girl huffs but skips away.

“Declan is on a call. It’s been a crazy morning, as you can imagine, but I cleared my calendar and got here shortly before you. We’ll take the kids to school together, and then you can pick them up this afternoon. ”

“I hope your lateness is an exception.” The velvety baritone wraps around me with its usual charm.

Its solace disappears as soon as I glimpse the owner. Declan walks into the kitchen, wearing a navy suit that hugs him like a second skin. He kisses his mother’s cheek. “Thank you for coming to help. Again.”

He’s fidgeting with his cufflinks. His mom turns his hand and helps him to clasp them on. He hasn’t looked at me yet. He still doesn’t know I’m here. Or that I’m not a qualified nanny. Or that I exist.

His brief gaze at Saturday’s party flashes through my memory. That wasn’t attention; that was just a reaction to my clumsiness. I’m sure he doesn’t even know my name.

If I’m lucky, my presence here today will go unnoticed, or at least unconnected to our friend’s circle.

Though Dorothy may burst that sliver of hope.

He walks to the counter and puts a capsule into his Nespresso machine.

“You’ve met my mother. She will show you the ropes with the school run.

The housekeeper comes at eleven and will fill you in on the rest.” He picks up his small cup and downs the coffee.

“I’ll be home by seven today, and we can talk then. Make sure—”

Our eyes meet. I swallow .

“I better go check on the kids.” Dorothy leaves the kitchen.

Declan stands, the skyline of Manhattan behind him. It looks all bright and beautiful in contrast to his frown.

Frown?

It’s not his typical scowl aimed at repelling people. It’s something between shock and curiosity. Like he’s trying to remember something.

Yep, we met before.

He holds the small, black cup in one hand and draws circles around the rim with his finger. The motion is painfully slow. It’s not a mindless fidgeting; it’s a deliberate move. Like I do when I think.

The few feet of the tiled floor stretch between us. The kitchen is spacious, but under his gaze I feel trapped. Like his eyes could make me smaller and more insignificant, so I straighten my spine and lift my chin.

I swear his lips quirk up for a millisecond before he schools his expression again. Is he amused? By my presence? By my chin-lifting act of defiance?

He moves his gaze slowly, languidly, down my body. It’s not scrutiny; it’s almost an indulgence. He enjoys what he sees.

And God help me, I enjoy his perusal. When I entered this penthouse, I was grateful for the pleasantly-set temperature. Right now, my T-shirt is absorbing my body’s weight in sweat. I’ll be seriously dehydrated after this morning.

The few moments of his attention feel like an eternity. His eyes linger on my naked legs for a moment, before he remembers all that’s wrong with this situation.

“Are you even qualified to watch my children?” That puzzlement is back now, along with parental concern.

He should be concerned. I should be concerned.

But those thoughts are canceled because I nod. I freaking nod.

Well, let’s be honest here, this man robbed me of my sanity the first time I heard his voice over the line at Summit Solutions.

“Okay.” He nods curtly and leaves.

It’s not lost on me that he doesn’t walk past me but takes the trouble to back up and walk around the island from the other side. He may as well, as I’m in desperate need of a shower.

But more importantly, has he even recognized me?