Page 9

KLAUS

I t’s Sunday morning—the day she enters my life. Our lives.

I watch her on the live CCTV feed.

I’m still unsure if she’s the right person for this job. I wanted someone who could blend into the background of my life. But ever since I saw Miss Turner, everything else faded away into the background.

She’s become my one fixation. My dangerous obsession.

There’s a flush in her cheeks as she stares up at the mansion.

I zoom in on her face, studying it like it’s a rare piece of art.

My gaze is drawn to her pillowy lips. There’s an indent cutting down the center of her bottom lip. It looks like the perfect groove to rest my thumb on. Before my thoughts can take a dirty turn, I look back at her eyes.

For some reason, it’s harder to look into her eyes.

Something about them calls to me. They make me want to be an honest man. A good man.

A storm begins in my chest.

This is uncharted territory. I’ve never been in this position before.

I have about a dozen tasks to work on today, but I’m frozen in place. Hypnotized. Fated to do nothing but study every little detail about her.

There’s a knock on my door.

“Come in,” I say, reluctantly closing the camera feed tabs on my laptop.

Helena steps inside my office.

“The girl is here,” she says.

“I’m aware.”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Do we have to do this every time, Klaus?” She sighs with exasperation.

“She’s been given an employee handbook and a map of the house. There’s no reason for me to greet her in person.”

“It’s the polite thing to do,” Helena says.

“She’s an employee,” I say. “I’m not going to treat herlike she’s a guest in this house.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Helena scoffs.Her hands are on her hips now, which tells me she’s seconds away from losing her temper.

“Is this because of how attractive you find her?” she asks.

For fuck’s sake.

“I’m never telling you anything ever again,” I say.

She grins. “It’s not the worst thing in the world to be attracted to someone. In fact, it’s very natural.”

“What can I do to make this conversation end?” I ask.

“For starters, you can come say hello to the new nanny,” she says. “I know you guys got off on the wrong foot.”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“Like it or not, Klaus, she’s going to be a part of your life now.”

I’m regretting this decision already.

I know that the nanny will be good for the kids, but she might just wreck what’s left of my sanity.

There’s an alert on my computer, informing me of movement at the front door. My security system sends me a message saying that an unauthorized person has entered the premises.

“She’s not cleared by security yet?” I ask.

“The agency did the usual background and health checks, but we haven’t entered her into the system yet,” Helena replies. “Now, are you coming or not?”

She fixes me with a glare that tells me there’s only one right answer.

“Fine.” I stand.

“I knew you’d come to your senses,” Helena says, grinning victoriously.

The sight of her smile thaws my heart a little. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Helena and the kids. They’re the only family I have left.

She heads toward the door but pauses at the threshold.

“Oh, and before I forget to tell you, we found some black mold in the guest room you allotted for Miss Turner,” she says over her shoulder. “I had to select another room for her.”

“Another room?”

“It’s one of the rooms in the Horizon wing,” she answers, walking down the corridor.

“Helena, why are you like this?” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose.

She blinks at me like an innocent cartoon owl.

“Oh my goodness, I completely forgot that your bedroom is in the Horizon wing, too,” she says. “I think I gave Miss Turner the room that’s opposite yours. That’s such a coincidence.”

“Please. You’re so transparent.”

She drops the facade. “We really do have a black mold infestation in some of the guest rooms, though. You know that it’s toxic.”

“You’re toxic,” I mutter.

“What’s that?” She swivels to look at me.

“Can’t you give her any other vacant room?” I ask.

“Too late for that now,” she says. “Her luggage has already been sent to her new room.”

“You’re a criminal mastermind,” I say.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

We walk down the staircase together.

“Seriously though, stop trying to set me up with the nanny,” I say. “It’s never going to happen.”

“That’s not up to you to decide,” she says.

“What on earth does that mean?” I ask.

“There are forces in life that are beyond our control. We don’t always get to decide what we want the rest of our lives to look like. Sometimes you’re hit with a curveball when you least expect it.”

“You really need to stop watching so many soap operas in your free time.”

“Please,” she says. “You basically grew up on my soap operas.”

“And look how healthy I turned out to be.”

She rolls her eyes at me.

When we reach the bottom of the staircase, a piercing scream cuts through the air, sending chills down my spine.

“Where are the kids?” I yell.

“They’re by the pool,” Helena answers.

Out of my peripheral vision, I spot Emma Turner standing in the foyer. The scent of cupcakes fills my lungs, clouding my head for a moment. I don’t even spare her a glance.

I run toward the back of the house.

When I burst through the patio doors, I find my nephew crying by the pool. His sister is trying to console him.

“What happened?” I ask,storming toward the kids.

Rosalie takes a protective stance in front of James.

“He saw a spider in the pool,” she answers for him. There are splotches of red on her cheeks. She’s lying.

“James, are you okay?” I ask.

He fists his hands in front of his eyes, trying to soothe himself. He takes deep, shuddering breaths until he stops crying. When he looks up at me, I see raw fear in his eyes.

“I saw something.” He speaks so quietly that I almost don’t catch his words.

“What did you see?” I ask him.

“I already told you. He saw a big spider,” Rosalie butts in. James looks up at his older sister and flinches at the way she’s glaring at him.

She’s clearly lying about the spider.

I scan the surroundings, looking for any potential threats.

My eyes lock with Emma’s—she’s been standing behind me this whole time.I soak her in for the first time today—the way her eyes sparkle in the sunlight, the soft intake of her breath, the way there seems to be a soft glow around her. My memory didn’t do any justice to her beauty.

I rip my gaze away from her and focus on my nephew.

“James, are you hurt?” I ask him.

He shakes his head rapidly. Fat tears splatter down his cheeks.

“Then why are you crying?” I ask him.

He’s as white as a sheet. He barely even meets my gaze.

I clench my fists by my sides. He needs someone to hug him and tell him that it’s all right. But I can’t be the one to do it.

“Talk to me, buddy. I’m right here.”

He peeks up at me through wet lashes.

“Don’t cry,” I say. “You’re not a little boy.”

My words come out harsher than I intended, making his tears fall even faster.He hides behind his older sister, refusing to meet my gaze now.

Rosalie narrows her eyes at me.

She’s the spitting image of her mother. And when she’s staring me down like this, I’m taken right back to the past. Back when the world made a little more sense.

“Can I?” There’s a soft whisper behind me.

Her voice feels like a caress against my skin.

Grudgingly, I step out of the way. As the nanny steps forward, her arm lightly brushes against mine. I wait for the revulsion to hit me. I wait for the pain to consume me from the inside out.

But it doesn’t come.

All I feel is a strange...warmth.

When I returned from the war, I wasn’t the same person I was when I left. Even the thought of touching another person made me break out in hives.

But for some reason, I don’t mind touching this woman.

She kneels in front of the kids.

“Rosalie, can I talk to your brother for a second?” she asks.

My niece isn’t happy about it, but she steps aside. I catch her widening her eyes at James for a brief second.

“Hi, James, do you remember me?” Emma asks.

His chin starts quivering. He nods and throws his small arms around her, burying his face against her neck. His breath comes in short gasps.

“It’s okay,” she says, rubbing circles on his back. “You’re okay now.”

He whimpers.

She pulls him away and wipes the tears from his cheeks.

“If you saw something that scared you, it’s okay to talk about it, James,” Emma says. “You don’t have to keep it a secret.”

He glances up at the house. I follow his gaze to one of the windows.

My heart skips a beat.

He saw something he shouldn’t have.

“Can we have breakfast now? I’m hungry,” Rosalie protests.

“One second, darling,” Emma says. “James, if you want to talk about it?—”

“Kids, go have breakfast,” I order.

James looks up at me. He’s trembling from head to toe. The sight of him like this tugs at my heartstrings. I want to comfort him in some way, but I don’t know how.

Rosalie holds her brother’s hand and takes him back inside the mansion.

The nanny stands and turns to face me.

“You didn’t let him talk,” she says.

“Excuse me?”

“James was about to say something when you interrupted him,” she says. “He should be given the space to express his feelings.”

“With all due respect, Miss Turner,” I bite out, “if I wanted your advice, I would have asked for it.”

The softness in her eyes fades, turning into annoyance.

“This isn’t about you or me,” she says. “It’s about the kids.”

“You’ve known them for all of five minutes. Are you assuming that you know them better than I do?” I say.

“I’m just trying to help.”

“Don’t,” I reply.

She takes a step toward me.

Most people flinch when they look at me. They avert their gaze from the scar that cuts across my face. But this girl looks at me like she’s trying to read the darkest parts of my soul.

“Mr. Sinclair, can I be frank with you?” she says.

“Something tells me you’re going to speak your mind regardless,” I say.

She blinks, caught off guard for a brief second.

“I know you think this is just a job for me, but I care about people. And when I see two little children who desperately need emotional support, I can’t turn a blind eye to it.”

“What exactly are you insinuating?”

“I wasn’t done speaking.”

I grind my teeth together.

“If we’re going to be working together, I expect to be treated with respect,” she says. “If you’re not capable of that, I don’t see how this is going to work out.”

I take a step toward her, reducing the distance between us to millimeters.

Her breath stutters now. There’s alarm in her eyes as she stares up at me, but there’s curiosity too.

“While I appreciate your concern about the children, I also expect you to respect the family’s boundaries. I have the final say in this household, and the last thing I need is for the nanny to challenge me,” I say. “Is that clear?”

Her gaze drops to my lips and remains there.

“Yes,” she breathes.

She’s standing so close that I can almost taste her now. All I’d have to do is lift my hand and tip her chin toward me. And those bee-stung lips would be all mine for the taking.

I blink.

I don’t remember the last time I wanted to touch someone, let alone kiss them.

Someone clears their throat, breaking the tension between the two of us. I glance at Helena as she approaches us.

“Miss Turner, would you like to join us for breakfast?” Helena asks.

Emma looks up at me. Like me, she has a fiery temper that’s quick to combust. I wouldn’t be surprised if she stormed out of here.

I can see the wheels turning in her head.

Now would be the right time for me to apologize. It wasn’t my intention to make her feel disrespected. But the words die on my tongue.

Emma looks back at Helena.

“Breakfast sounds lovely,” she says.

“I promise you it’s not usually this chaotic around here,” Helena says, taking the girl’s arm in hers.

“I can handle a little chaos,” Emma replies.

I watch as the women walk back into the mansion.

The pounding in my chest won’t ease up. It feels like seeing the first signs of spring after a long winter. Everything inside me feels alive for the very first time.

Before they step back into the house, Emma glances back at me. It only lasts a second, but I know I’ll remember that look for an entire lifetime.

There are forces in life that are beyond your control. Sometimes, you’re hit with a curveball when you least expect it.

That’s exactly what this girl feels like.

A curveball. A sucker punch. An unexpected mystery.

Because I recognize something in her eyes. We share a kindred sadness, and I want to know what made her that way. I want to know what haunts her head.

I glance up at the window my nephew was looking at.

I suspect I already knowwhat he saw.

And I hope to God that I’m wrong.