Page 7 of Daring Wicked Love (Wicked Dade #2)

“I don’t think pancakes are supposed to look like that.”

Staring down at what could only be described as lumpy, chocolate-chipped vomit, I had to agree with the five-year-old standing beside me.

I grabbed the pancake batter box and studied the instructions. “Maybe I added too many eggs. No, that can’t be right… I swear we only added two.”

It was my first morning as Penelope’s nanny and the nerves rattling through my entire system threatened to consume me whole.

I hadn’t slept the whole night, too busy playing over every worst-case scenario, like what if I accidentally lost Penelope?

Or what if she got seriously hurt on my watch? Or what if she didn’t like me?

Thankfully, Frederic left the second I arrived. Which mercifully meant he didn’t get a chance to witness my jittery anxiety, and how close I was to emptying the contents of my stomach on his glistening marble floors.

Before he departed for the day, he gave a brief description of where I could find all my things and where I was going to be living for the next year.

All my possessions were placed in converted living space above the four-car garage next to the house. It was three times the size of my entire apartment, with state-of-the-art and newly installed amenities.

The second I spotted the large church-like window overlooking the back garden, I fell in love.

Although my contract stated that I was to sleep in the main house if Frederic was not home for the night, the rest of the time I was to live and sleep in my own personal space.

A sanctuary that was completely off-limits to everyone but me as stated in the contract.

“It’s okay, we tried our best and that’s what matters, right?” Penelope chirped, jumping off the footstool. “We can always eat the ones from the shop.”

It was my first day — hell, my first morning and I had already screwed up such a simple task.

Maybe I wasn’t fit to look after a kid, just like Frederic said.

Then again, I practically raised Niamh during our years in foster care. It wasn’t like we lived in bad homes with bad people, all of them were nice people and wanted to help, but I just didn’t — couldn’t trust anyone else with my little sister.

Not after the years with the monster that was our father.

I reminded myself that if I had been able to drag an uncooperative Niamh through the worst years of our lives, then I was more than capable of caring for Penelope.

I just needed to stay positive, not let the ugliness of uncertainty and worry sink its claws into me, for both Penelope and my own sake.

Fuck you, self-doubt.

“You’re right, we tried our best, and it’s okay when things don’t work out.” I grinned and grabbed the other pancakes. “Now, what ones do you want, chocolate or blueberry?”

Her brow furrowed as her gaze jumped back and forth between the two packets.

“It’s a tough choice,” I hummed. “How about we have both?”

“Can we?” She jumped up and down excitedly when I nodded. “I’m going to have mine with syrup.”

I grinned. “Me too.”

Clapping her hands together, Penelope skipped over to the breakfast bar and climbed onto a chair. “I knew you were cool. I told Daddy you were the coolest.”

Hell yes!

Being cool to a five-year-old, especially this five-year-old, was like winning the lottery.

After devouring our weight in pancakes, with enough syrup to make my blood sugar levels skyrocket, I sent Penelope to her room to get ready for the day while I loaded the dishwasher.

The kitchen was like something pulled straight out of an interior design catalogue. Pristine surfaces, modern fittings, and an oven with far too many buttons and knobs that I was sort of glad the pancakes turned to mush — how the hell was someone meant to use such a contraption?

It was a far cry from my two-bed apartment.

Before checking on Penelope and ensuring she was indeed getting dressed and not dangling headfirst out of her bedroom window like my irrational fears told me, I reluctantly answered the newest incoming call from my sister.

“I’d have better luck catching a shooting star with my bare hands than getting a hold of you,” Niamh said with undeniable sharpness in her tone. “You’ve been ignoring me.”

“No, I haven’t,” I lied. “I’ve been meaning to call you back, I promise, just a couple of things came up.”

My sister paused. “Are you okay?”

“Of course. You know me, just a scatterbrain.”

“If you say so,” she said. “How’s work? How is what’s his name… Perry?”

And so it began, the usual small talk where I knew for a certainty Niamh had as much interest in my life as she did shoveling pig shit. But it was our ritual at this point. I talked away, and she feigned as much interest as she could muster until she grew bored and cut straight to the point.

“Jerry,” I corrected her, keeping my voice as pleasant as physically possible. There was no point in letting her annoy me, after all, I was equally to blame for our relationship. “We broke up two months ago.”

“That’s a shame.”

“We wanted different things. It seemed only right to call it quits before we got any more serious.”

It was a semi-truth. Jerry wanted marriage and babies, and though I personally didn’t want children, it wasn’t the whole reason we broke up.

Jerry wanted to know everything about me.

The good and the bad, and unfortunately for him, I couldn’t share the worst parts of my life with him.

I was barely able to think about it myself without wanting to vomit, never mind talking about it out loud to a man who I felt barely any connection to.

So I did what I always do when I get scared.

I cut ties and ran.

My teeth gnawed at the barely healing skin of my lip. “Anything new in your life to report?”

“Nope.”

Silence stretched between us.

I hated that this was what our sisterly relationship was reduced to. She blamed me for our childhood, and I understood why she did when we were young, but we were grown women now. Couldn’t she see what I did was to protect us? To protect her?

“University semester fees are due,” she said bluntly. “Can you sort them out?”

No.

“Yes,” I said instead, too scared of losing her completely. “I’ll wire the money at the end of the week.”

“You’re the best,” she said, suddenly sweet as apple freaking pie.

“While I have you,” I said slowly, “I was thinking about coming home for Christmas. Maybe we could celebrate the holiday together?”

Penelope came skipping into the kitchen with a pair of fairy wings attached to her back and a glittery tiara tangled in her blonde hair.

I barely registered my sister’s excuses for not wanting to spend time together as Penelope revealed a second tiara from behind her back.

The smile that broke across that kid’s face was enough to banish the unforgiving spikes of sadness piercing my heart.

“There’s always next year,” I said after Niamh finished her extensive list of reasons to avoid me. “Stay safe. Don’t forget you can call day or night if you ever need me. I love you.”

“You too,” she said before the dial tone deafened me.

Not giving in to a second of the usual sorrow I felt after speaking to my sister, I turned my attention to Penelope.

Her outfit choice was unique, to say the least. A bright pink ballerina skirt, a purple T-shirt with a cartoon princess I didn’t recognize, and a pair of pink sparkly Doc Martens.

“Cool shoes.” I grinned. “Think I might need to copy you and get myself a pair.”

“Mama never lets me pick my own clothes.” She bounced on her heels. “This is for you.”

She carefully handed me the tiara as if she were handing me a rare artefact, making my cheeks hurt from smiling.

“I love it.” I worked the plastic into my hair. “How do I look?”

“Like Rapunzel, ‘cause you have looooong hair like her.” She giggled, pointing at my denim dungarees. “Except you don’t have the dress. You’re a weird princess, but I like that.”

“A weird princess, heck yes!” I pretended to curtsey. “And how does my fellow princess wish to spend her day?”

“I want to explore the garden,” she said. “And after that, could we have a tea party?”

I held out my hand for her, basking in the warmth and tightness of her grip. “Let’s go.”

Maybe it was pathetic to relish in the feeling of being wanted by someone, especially when that someone was five years old. But as Penelope looked up at me with nothing but sheer joy while we walked hand-in-hand, I didn’t dare give it a second thought.

Apparently, it was essential to try and blend in with the fairy folk that may be lurking somewhere in the garden, and the only way to blend in and be accepted by them was, of course, glitter.

Who was I to argue with a five-year-old’s logic as she emptied at least half a tub of glitter on my hair and face?

We spent the whole morning and afternoon out in the early June heat. The gardens were equally as beautiful as they were enormous. Every time I thought we’d searched the whole thing, we found another area to explore.

“Daddy!” Penelope cried out suddenly, abandoning her empty teacup and sprinting across the garden.

Sitting on a blanket, surrounded by teddy bears, I watched the hardened demeanor on Frederic’s face dissolve into something softer. I had to blink several times to ensure I wasn’t imagining anything.

How was it possible for him to look even more devastatingly handsome as he lifted his daughter and embraced her with a crooked smile?

Okay, it wasn’t a secret that once upon a time I had a crush on Frederic — ages ago! It was before I knew him and his brick-wall personality.

Once I figured out how cold and unflinching he truly was, the crush vanished as quickly as it came.

Watching him carry his daughter toward me, his strong arms flexing under his black shirt, the brutal intensity of his blue eyes crinkling in the corners as Penelope planted a kiss on his cheek, a flicker of the oh-so-familiar attraction sparked back into life.

I ignored the way my stomach flipped as his gaze locked onto mine, and how my heart seized for just a moment as his eyes tracked down my face to my lips.

“You have something on your bottom lip,” he said tightly.

I tried to keep my expression neutral and not dwell on the way his nostrils flared as he tracked my tongue sliding along my lip, catching a fleck of glitter.

“Thanks.” I removed the piece of glitter and grinned as he set Penelope back down on the blanket. “We were hunting for fairies, weren’t we?”

She nodded, the sun catching the sparkles attached to her hair. “Now we are going to have some special fairy tea before dinner. Do you want some?”

Frederic looked physically torn. “I have a work call I need to…” He trailed off, looking down at the blanket and then back to the house.

“Work can wait. Sit down,” I insisted, scooting over on the blanket. “I’ll go and get the tea.”

“I’ll do it,” Penelope announced, running off before either of us could stop her.

Firm lines settled across Frederic’s brow. “Is that wise?”

“Don’t worry, it’s just a jug of iced tea I made earlier. She won’t burn or hurt herself.”

After several long seconds, Frederic slowly lowered himself onto the blanket, careful not to let any part of his body touch mine.

I mean, he was acting like I was freaking diseased, tucking his leg beneath him and balancing on the edge of the blanket to ensure not even his trouser so much as brushed my ankle.

“How was your first day?” he finally asked. “Anything I need to be aware of?”

I tilted my chin toward the lowering sun. “Nothing to report. It was a perfect first day, apart from my inability to make pancakes.”

“I see.”

“The recipe on the box was wrong, I’m convinced.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s a conspiracy I am working on. They do it on purpose, so you’re forced to buy more or give up and buy pre-made ones. I’m calling it panspiracy .”

Frederic stared at me, unblinking, as if I’d grown an extra head out of the side of my neck.

Silence took its seat stiffly between us on the blanket.

I risked meeting his gaze and found him still staring at me.

“What?” I asked. “Is there more glitter on my face? Because I hate to tell you, but I am ninety percent glitter at this point. It’s going to take several long soaks in the bath to get rid of it.

I mean that stuff gets everywhere, I am pretty sure there are fistfuls of the stuff down my bra. ”

His jaw twitched twice. “I don’t need to know where the glitter is on your body.”

I shrugged, unable to stop myself smiling. “They do say sharing is caring, and I am simply sharing the experience I am going through right now. The stuff itches, definitely not the ideal material for stuffing your bra.”

“Stop talking.”

“Gee whizz, it’s not my fault that talking about bras makes you uncomfortable. You’re lucky I didn’t say breasts.”

“You better not talk like this when you are around Penelope.”

My spine straightened. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“You talk a lot, and I mean a lot. I am merely reminding you to remember what is appropriate, considering your lack of experience being a nanny.”

I shot him a look, mindful of the child walking toward us. “You hired me. At some point, you’re going to have to come to terms with your own decision, because if you can’t learn to trust me, then I am gone.”

“You signed a contract.”

“That says I have a month’s probation,” I bit back. “If you can’t show me that you respect me by then, I can leave, and you can’t do a thing to stop me.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Watch me.” The tension rolled off my shoulders as I plastered a smile when Penelope plonked herself down between us. “Wow, that looks like some amazing tea! You grab the cups, Pen, and I will pour.”

I ignored the way Frederic stared at me, and the tiny jolt of electricity that sang through my body when our fingers touched as I passed him his cup.

I was too pissed off at him to even think about the fact that he slowly adjusted his sitting position to allow his knee to brush against my leg.

Because as much as I needed this job, as much as I needed the money, I refused to allow myself to fall into old patterns and stay somewhere I wasn’t wanted.