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Chapter Six

Brynn

"I don't get it. Why does he hate you so much?" Isabella, one of my closest girlfriends, scrunches her face in confusion.

Crossing my legs underneath me on the bed, I hold the phone in front of my face and cringe. "Because I blocked his car one time for, like, five minutes."

"That doesn't seem like such a big deal."

"Well, he was late to a meeting, and there were probably spaces free, but Starbucks was closing, and I needed to put up a story about their new drink for a sponsored post."

"Dude." Issy pulls a face.

"What?"

She shakes her head with amusement. "You're such a fucking diva."

She’s always been the quiet one out of the both of us, more reserved than I ever could be, and a much-needed complement to my wild, somewhat erratic nature.

We met last year in Bali while I was out there shooting a social media campaign for an e-commerce swimsuit brand. We’d been working alongside each other as models, but I hadn’t known then that she actually lived out there, in a little ramshackle cabin on the beach. Her income came mostly from her own online profiles, like me, but she picked up the occasional modeling campaign whenever one was being shot locally.

We’d bonded over a shared love of romantic period dramas and Mai Tai cocktails.

I stick my tongue out at her through the phone screen. “Yeah, but you love me.”

“Sometimes.” She shrugs with a giggle. "Anyway, back to your brother's friend..."

"Ugh, do we have to?" I roll my eyes. "I'd rather suffer an anal probing than talk about him. Just because he's hot and has that stupid sexy accent, it doesn't justify him acting like a dick. He's an egotistical asshole with a stick pushed so far up his ass I'm surprised it hasn't punctured a lung."

She snorts. "You like him."

"What the fuck?" I blink, stunned. "What are you struggling to understand about what I just said?"

"I'm just saying…" She shrugs. "You haven't sounded so passionate about something since you found out you have to wait two years for the next Bridgerton season. And you definitely haven't been that passionate about a man in all the time I’ve known you."

To be fair, we’ve only known each other a year, and a year isn't all that long.

"Maybe I've just never hated someone as much as I hate him."

"There's a fine line between love and hate."

"Well, in this case, the line is thicker than a porn star's dick."

There's a choked sound from the side of my room, and my eyes swing wild and wide to the intruder standing in the open doorway.

Ah, fuck.

"Issy, I've gotta go." I hang up the phone before she has a chance to respond and pull my comforter over my legs like it'll protect me from the man staring down at me with both amusement and annoyance.

"How long have you been standing there?"

Leo smirks. "I arrived somewhere around anal probing."

Fuck my life.

"Can I come in?" he asks, the slight hint of hesitance in his voice making me pause.

I've never known Leo Sullivan to be anything less than arrogant. But here he is, shifting on his feet with his hands shoved into his jeans, shuffling from foot to foot.

It's putting me on edge.

Tipping my chin high, so as not to give away my discomfort, I motion him in with a quick nod of my head. "What can I do you for, wise ol' gentleman?"

"Huh?"

"Don't you folk speak like that in the land of Shakespeare and bowler hats?"

"No, we definitely do not."

He takes a few steps into the room, just enough that he can close the door behind him, then leans back against it like he's just stepped out of a how-to guide on seducing women.

He doesn't look hot right now.

Not even a little bit.

Maybe if I tell myself that enough times, I’ll start to believe it.

"Brynn?" His gruff voice shocks me back to life.

"Sorry, did you say something?"

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

I'm self-aware enough to know that I'm not always a walk in the park. As humans go, I'm probably on the lower end of tolerable. I know I can come across as vapid, self-centered, and shallow. To most people, I'm just a girl who isn't capable of thoughts deeper than what precise shade of blue I'll get my nails painted this week.

And truthfully, I like it that way.

Because if all anyone ever sees is the shell, they'll never feel the need to look deeper. They'll never discover the parts of my soul I keep hidden from the light, the secrets of my past, or my own self-loathing.

But for some reason, Leo's clear disdain of me stings.

Not that I'll ever let him know that. So, I plaster a charming smile on my face, as if he's just given me a compliment. "Why, thank you, kind sir."

"Your British accent could use some work," he says in response.

"So could yours."

"I thought my accent was sexy." His lips tip into a smug smile. "That's what you told your friend, no?"

God, I hate him.

"I also said it was stupid."

"And you called me hot," he tacks on, awfully proud of himself.

"I recall also calling you an egotistical asshole."

"Oh, did you?" He cocks his head to one side. "I'm choosing not to remember that part."

Snorting with frustration, I dig my fingernails into the mattress at my sides to stop myself from hurling something heavy at his face. "Of course you are."

"Look," he starts, shifting on his feet again in the nervous way he did when he first asked to come in, "as fun as it would be to trade insults all night, I actually need to talk to you about something."

I eye him skeptically. "Go on."

Dipping his gaze, he looks down at his feet. "It would really help me out if you could do this nanny thing."

I wait expectantly for him to expand, but nothing follows. His eyes don't lift either. He simply continues studying something on his obnoxiously white sneakers.

I'm not really sure how I feel about my brother suggesting me for the job. For the first time in a long time, my schedule isn't jam-packed with events, appearances, and meetings. I have the odd commitment here and there, but aside from my sponsored social media posts, I'm free as a bird.

Truthfully, I was looking forward to spreading my wings and flying free for a bit.

And by that, I mean sleeping the days away and trying out some sex toys a female-empowerment company sent me as a gift.

Taking on the responsibility of a child would really cockblock my self-care plans.

And yet, as I sat there on the floor of my brother's living room with the most adorable little girl in my lap, I realized that spending time with her wouldn't be all bad.

I think... I think I might actually like it.

"Think you can bring yourself to say please this time?" I ask with a pointed twitch of my eyebrow.

Dark eyes finally meet mine, blazing with resentment. "Do I really have to?"

"Yes."

"Fine." His hand pulls at the back of his neck as his eyelids scrunch shut.

"This is really painful for you, huh?" I can't resist asking because, evidently, I just don't know when to shut up.

His answer comes out through clenched teeth. "You have no idea."

"Well, go on, then." I wave a hand in his direction. "We don't have all day."

Blowing heavy breaths through his nose, he readies himself for what is apparently the biggest moment of his life. "It's important to me that Salem is comfortable with whoever is going to be taking care of her, and for some reason, unbeknownst to me, you are the first female she has ever been able to tolerate. And while I am not in the habit of discrimination, my experience with Steve the sex offender has shown me that I'd really prefer a woman in this role. So, Brynn, annoying as you are, would you mind being Salem's nanny for the time being?" He pauses then reluctantly adds, "Please."

For a while, I say nothing.

Not because I'm deciding what to do—the choice has already been made. But simply because I like to see him sweat. And I'm very much enjoying the way his nervous foot-shuffling has escalated to the point of becoming a two-step dance. It would be such a shame to put an end to it before I have to.

"Brynn?" he asks quietly.

I sigh.

It wasn't quite the heartfelt request I'd been wanting, but there's something in the way he's looking at me that makes me want to put him out of his misery.

So, I simply say, "Yes. I'll do it."

And just like that, his entire body relaxes. I hadn't realized he'd been quite so tense until his shoulders drop several inches from where they'd been hunched around his neck.

"Good." He nods, more to himself than to me. "Good. That's good. I'll need to get your number, and you can start moving your stuff into my apartment this weekend. I'd like to spend some time on Sunday showing you where everything is, going over Salem's routine, how we do things, etcetera. So, that'll be your first official day. We can discuss payment and other things then."

I do nothing but blink at the onslaught of information.

He doesn't seem to expect me to say anything else. In fact, he's visibly relieved by my silence.

"Oh, and the pizza is almost here. But I’d suggest you throw on a bra before you join us. I don't really want to eat my dinner with your nipples poking my eyes out."

My gaze falls instantly to my chest where, low and behold, my nipples are trying to cut their way through my tank.

"It's cold," I say in defense.

His jaw ticks. "Clearly."

And then he's gone.

For a minute, I consider doing as he told me. I even lift a bra from my luggage and go to slip it on.

But then I remember who the fuck I am.

Brynn Wolfe doesn't take orders from anyone, let alone a man like him.

So, I forgo the bra and waltz my ass back into the living area where the man himself stares at my chest with something akin to fury.

That's right, Leo Sullivan. You better get used to this. I hate bras with a burning passion, and I will continue not to wear one even when we're living together.

My comfort is my prerogative, and if you don’t like it, then you can go straight to hell.

#freethefuckingnipple