Page 26 of Bellini Born

I gave myself a mental pat on the back. This couldn’t be any more perfect.

Pouring a little more fuel on the fire, I teased, “How can you say no to that little face?”

Summer gave my daughter a tight smile. “Bianca, I need to talk to your daddy for a minute in private.”

What did it say about me that my cock began to thicken at hearing her call me daddy?

That you’re a sick fuck, that’s what.

My little girl pushed her lower lip out in a pout and stomped her foot. “I wanna stay with you.”

Instead of arguing, Summer redirected the conversation. “I had so much fun braiding your hair today.”

That perked Bianca up. “You can do it again tomorrow!”

Sighing, Summer’s eyes lifted to meet mine. “We’ll see.”

Stepping in, I spoke to my daughter. “Principessa, why don’t you run to the kitchen and see if Teresa has any cookies left from the batch she made yesterday?”

A sheepish grin curved on her face. “I ate them all.”

“How about ice cream, then?”

Her eyes grew large. “Before dinner?”

If spoiling her dinner was the only way to get her out of the room so I could negotiate with Summer, then so be it.

“Sure.” I jerked my head toward the open office door. “Now, scoot.”

Bianca took off running, and the minute she was gone, Summer stood, seething, “I don’t appreciate being put on the spot like that.”

She was adorable when she was all riled up, and my lips pulled into a smirk.

“Is this some kind of game to you?”

Her anger was palpable, but I couldn’t stop staring at how her ragged breathing pushed her breasts up.

“Eyes up here.” Fingers snapped dangerously close to my face, and reflex had me wrapping my free hand around her wrist in an iron grip.

A shocked rush of air spilled from her lips, the fight seeping out of her as her gaze zeroed in on where I held her. Heat curledthrough my insides, the spot where I touched her skin almost scorching my palm.

Could she feel it too?

Throat working on a swallow, she rasped, “I, uh—” With a firm shake of her head, she continued, “I’m not a nanny.”

“Maybe not,” I agreed. “But Bianca likes you, which is nothing short of a miracle these days. And since you’re adamant about not accepting my repayment of your student loans, I thought we could use this arrangement to come to a compromise.”

“Compromise,” Summer repeated, confusion written across her face.

“Since you don’t have the cash to refund me outright, you can work for me—as the girls’ nanny—until you’ve earned enough to call it even. The nanny position pays $150,000 per year.”

Her mouth dropped open at hearing that salary figure.

“That would mean over a year . . .”

I nodded. “Sixteen months, to be exact.”

She was so close to agreeing that I could almost taste it, which made it all the more surprising when she spun around to grab her purse. “While the offer is attractive, working off my debt leaves me without a way to pay for rent or food.”