Page 5 of Bully Wolf’s Nanny (Silvermist Wolves #1)

Daisy was oddly quiet on the car ride back to his house, hands folded neatly in her lap, gaze fixed firmly out the window.

Nicolas hadn’t commented on the obvious spike of anxiety in her scent whenever he moved too quickly or turned to look at her. He was at least trying to be a gentleman, even if her obvious distress set his teeth on edge.

He could see himself reflected in her gaze. But not as he was now—as the man he had been seven years ago. The boy, really. Tall and cold and calculating. Cruel. Is that what she still saw when she looked at him? He supposed she’d have no reason to see him any other way.

She was still much the same from the last he’d seen her. Her hair, golden and fluffy and glowing, floated around her shoulders in some perpetual cloud of sunlight. She’d cut the front pieces shorter to curl at her cheekbones. He liked it. It suited her. He’d always liked her hair.

Daisy. The name fit her so well. Light and bright and hopeful and sweet. Everything he wasn’t. He was glad to see she hadn’t lost her brightness, even after…after what had happened between them.

His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles turning white. She glanced at him then, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. He didn’t turn to look back at her. The leather of the steering wheel creaked beneath his forceful grip.

“We’re nearly there,” he said roughly, and she jumped slightly at his voice.

“Okay,” she replied, her voice soft.

The silence hung thick between them for an unbearably long moment.

“You…you live quite far out of town,” she said. He waited for a follow-up, a question, a comment, but none came.

“Yes,” he said, his voice stilted, “I needed the space to build the house.”

“Build?” she asked, a note of curiosity entering her tone.

“Yeah. I wanted something different than the wood lodges and ski chalet knock-offs in town. Not really my style.”

“No, I suppose it isn’t,” she said. He couldn’t say for certain, but there seemed to be a definite bite of bitterness in her voice.

He swallowed thickly, and didn’t respond.

They were nearly at the gates now, sleek chrome nestled amongst the evergreens.

They were already opening for him as he sailed through into the carefully curated winding drive towards his house.

Every tree, every rock, every patch of moss had been meticulously placed to create a sense of controlled wilderness.

That’s what his landscaper had said, anyway.

And then something about balancing chaos and order.

She’d seemed very certain of herself, and Nicolas had been too busy with Nero to really care.

But now, as the smooth ochre wood and shining glass planes of his house came into view around a corner, he suddenly saw his home through new eyes—through Daisy’s.

Where before the sleek architecture had just been a passing facet of his life, a charming and suitable necessity, he now saw only monstrous over-indulgence.

His teeth ground together. What the hell was wrong with him?

Why should he care at all about what some silly girl thought about his house?

Billionaires and politicians and movie stars and alphas had been awed by his style, his flair, his immaculate taste.

They had wandered through the rooms, slack-jawed and glass-eyed, marveling at every new technological delight.

And here he was, worrying about what Daisy thought of it all.

He risked glancing at her. Her mouth was parted, plump lips open in shock, green eyes wide with childish wonder.

“This is your house?”

“It is,” he said, pulling up in front of the large bay doors.

“It’s, it’s…” she trailed off, blinking as she took in the vast sprawl of property.

Nicolas couldn’t help the swell of masculine pride in his chest at her blatant admiration. “Does it meet your standards?”

Her eyes narrowed then, the green dimming somewhat. “I suppose your wife must love it.”

“My…what?”

“Your wife. Girlfriend. Mother of your child?”

Nicolas blinked a few times before his mouth pulled up in a sneer. “If you’re talking about Francesca , the last time I saw her was when she dropped Gracie on my doorstep a year ago as a newborn.”

Daisy’s lips formed a silent “oh,” her cheeks flushing slightly red. “I thought…that is…”

“You assumed,” Nicolas said tersely, opening the car door with slightly more force than was perhaps necessary. “I’d appreciate it if you refrained from assumptions in the future. It would save us both a lot of grief.”

“Right,” Daisy replied meekly, scrambling out of the car, smoothing the fabric of her plain blue dress, “I’m sorry.”

Something ugly and uncomfortable roiled deep within him at her trembling tone, and he sighed, shutting the car door with a decisive bang. He ignored the way it made her jump.

For one brief, terrifying moment, he felt the overwhelming urge to lay it all bare. All their history, ugly and twisted as it was. It hung between them, heavy and bloated, and Nicolas felt the weight of his own unspoken words as keenly as a yoke.

But then Daisy turned towards the house, and the moment passed.

It wouldn’t do to dredge up ancient history. What was done was done. It wasn’t like Daisy would believe anything he had to say, not after what he’d done to her. Even if he somehow found the courage to tell her the truth of it, to tell her what he had really felt all those years ago…

He knew it would only break her heart further.

So instead, he picked up her suitcase out of the back seat, ignoring her protests, and brushed past her to the front door.

It had taken nearly two weeks to finalize all the paperwork, sort out all the necessary arrangements. In that time, Nicolas hadn’t seen Daisy at all. All their communication had been through the agency.

Which was fine. It was what the agency was for. Even if they’d had to nervously ask Nicolas to stop contacting them so often regarding everything being completed.

But completed it was. And now Daisy was here, in his house.

He didn’t quite know what to make of the strange sensation in his stomach.

Nicolas watched as she glanced around, nervously removing her shoes, her eyes catching on the rare art pieces hanging from the walls, the statues, the marble.

The only request he had made to the interior design company was to evoke a sense of ancient Rome.

History, after all, had been his favorite subject.

They had fulfilled his request with a delightfully modern twist, marrying the grand iconography of the emperors of old with the rich cedar and pine of his home territory.

“What time is your daughter getting here?” he asked, placing her suitcase down by the grand, sweeping staircase.

“I think Amelia said she would be here in half an hour or so,” said Daisy, shuffling slightly in her socks. Nicolas fought the urge to glance down at her legs, her calves bare to his gaze below her dress.

“Why didn’t you just bring her with you in my car?” he asked, folding his arms.

Daisy squirmed, biting her lip. “Because…because I wanted to talk to you first. Without her overhearing. She wouldn’t understand.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And yet, you didn’t say a word to me in the car.”

She scowled then, her sweet face scrunching up in displeasure. “Yes, well, I was…distracted. I haven’t been back to Silvermist in years.”

“What did you want to talk about?” he asked, turning away from her to walk through into the kitchen. She hurried after him, skirt swishing.

“I wanted to talk about the Iron Walkers,” she said, her frustration at his long strides evident.

He swallowed. The pack. Of course she wanted to talk about the pack. Not about…not about them .

He couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed.

“What about the pack?”

“I know you’re a prominent member now,” she huffed as he made his way to the liquor cabinet. One small bourbon wouldn’t hurt.

“Acquisitions is what Felix calls my role,” Nicolas rolled his eyes. “Business tycoon is what he means.”

“Well, I was reading the pack charter, and I was hoping you might ask Felix if I could be excused from joining. I could just swear loyalty and fidelity instead, like the other non-member shifters. I know that the law says blood descendants of the pack have to join if they want to live in pack territory, but I was thinking, you know, my family doesn’t even live here anymore.

They broke faith. So, technically, I’m not a blood descendant, and—"

“Wait, you’re worried about pack membership? Seriously?”

Daisy’s cheeks flushed again, her scowl deepening. “I know it may seem silly to you, but I don’t want to rejoin the Iron Walkers. I wasn’t exactly a… welcome member before, and I can’t see that being any better given I broke faith too when I left.”

Nicolas’s lips pressed together, and he downed the bourbon in one long gulp.

“Fine,” he said, his voice hard, “I’ll talk to Felix. As long as shifters in our territory swear loyalty and fidelity, they’re welcome. No matter their history.”

Daisy sighed, the tension leaving her face. “Thank you. I appreciate it, I really do. And I’ll make sure Thea swears it too when she comes into her wolf.”

“If she comes into her wolf, you mean,” Nicolas said. Daisy froze slightly, her eyes widening, and Nicolas watched as she buried her trembling hands in her pockets. “Unless, of course, her father is a wolf shifter too?”

Daisy shrugged, gnawing at her lip. “Yeah, he…he was. Is. I don’t really speak with him.”

Nicolas nodded, but couldn’t help the swell of satisfaction at her words.

He’d guessed, of course, that Daisy wasn’t on speaking terms with whoever had fathered her child.

He didn’t know the story, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Whatever Daisy had chosen to do with her life since leaving, well, that was her business. It wasn’t like he had been celibate.

Just then, there was a clatter and a series of muted curse words, and then his assistant Cecily stumbled into the room, Gracie gurgling happily in her arms.

“Thought I heard you come in. Here you go, boss,” Cecily said, unable to hide the slight grimace as Gracie tried to grasp her short spiky hair. “She’s been very well behaved. Mostly.”

“Mostly sounds about right,” Nicolas said, sweeping his daughter into his arms. “Cecily, this is Daisy. Daisy, Cecily. Daisy is going to be Gracie’s new nanny, and Cecily here is my assistant in pack business.”

Cecily snorted. “More like first, you’ve been useless this year.”

“A problem that’s now been solved,” Nicolas said through gritted teeth.

Cecily looked Daisy up and down, apprehension clear on her sharp features. “So, you’re a shifter too?”

Daisy nodded, her gaze flitting between Gracie and Cecily, her own apprehension clear.

Cecily’s eyebrows quirked up. “Well, good luck to you. I’ve got to get back, Emily and I have date night.”

“It’s two o’clock in the afternoon.”

Cecily waggled her eyebrows. “We get started early.”

Nicolas rolled his eyes as Cecily pranced back towards the door.

She was an excellent assistant and knew the ins and outs of the pack business nearly as well as he did.

But even he knew he was pushing his luck asking her to babysit all the time.

Despite her frostiness, she was no doubt very glad that Nicolas had finally got a capable pair of hands to help him with his daughter.

“So this is Gracie?” Daisy asked, her tone cautious, her eyes nevertheless filled with curiosity.

“Yes,” said Nicolas, his chest suddenly tight, “would you like to meet her?”

Daisy sucked in a breath before nodding, reaching out her arms for Nicolas to carefully hand Gracie over.

“Hi there, little one,” Daisy said, her voice reverent as she cradled Gracie to her chest, “aren’t you the most gorgeous little girl?”

Gracie babbled happily, her little hands exploring Daisy’s face, the collar of her dress. And then, predictably, Gracie shoved her fists into Daisy’s floating blonde tresses with coos of wonder.

Apparently, she liked Daisy’s hair as much as her father did.

Watching Daisy murmur quietly to his daughter, her green eyes bright, her face so soft and loving, Nicolas had an overwhelming urge to step in closer. To put his arm around Daisy. To pull them both close to his chest.

Instead, he refilled his glass.

Two o’clock in the afternoon be damned.

He only half listened as Daisy peppered him with questions about Gracie’s sleep schedule, her favorite foods, what activities she seemed to like doing.

All the while, she interspersed it with stories and comments about her own daughter, and Nicolas found himself increasingly curious to meet the little girl.

So when there was another alert from his security and a dark-haired human, Amelia, strolled in with a backpack slung over her shoulder and a small shifter girl clasping her hand, Nicolas found himself studying the small child closely.

She was small. That was the first thing he noticed.

It was no surprise, really; Daisy was incredibly short.

But Thea did not yet have any of the softness of her mother’s curvier frame—instead, she was all awkward angles and skinny limbs.

Her hair, although darker, fell in the same fluffy curls around her face, framing her bright blue eyes and button nose.

At her mother’s gentle coaxing, Thea wiped nervous hands on her school shirt before sticking one out to him, determination fixed on her little face.

“HellomynameisThea—it’sverynicetomeetyou,” she said in a garbled rush, shaking his hand up and down smartly.

Beside them, Daisy sucked in a breath.

Nicolas crouched down, unable to stop the smile tugging the corners of his lips. “Hello Thea, it’s very nice to meet you too. My name is Nicolas.”

Thea’s wide eyes were fixed on his face, curiosity creeping through the cracks of her nervousness.

“Is this really your house?” she asked, looking around the airy marble kitchen.

“It is,” said Nicolas, “and now it’s your house, too. Would you like that?”

Thea’s nose wrinkled. “It’s not very colorful.”

“Thea!”

“I’m sorry,” Thea said, her face flushing red at her mother’s admonishment, “I mean, it’s very nice.”

“It’s okay,” said Nicolas, standing back up to his full height, “you can make your bedroom as colorful as you would like. Do you want to see it?”

Thea’s chorus of excitement echoed through the entire house.