Kaelen POV
I angrily swipe the contents of my desk to the floor.
Papers fly. The glass paperweight shatters.
A pen rolls into the corner. I stand there, chest heaving, hands clenched into fists.
I made a mistake last night. A very nasty mistake.
I slept with my son's nanny.
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. The memory comes in fragments—her skin, her scent, the way she trembled under my hands.
She was so soft. So warm. So... innocent.
It was a spur of the moment thing. How ludicrous. I am Kaelen Aaron. I do not lose control. I do not make mistakes like this.
And yet.
She acted civil and professional with me this morning. I was surprised. Last night was her first time—I know it was—and she did not let her emotions get the best of her.
No tears. No accusations. No demands.
She came downstairs in her simple dress, hair pulled back, face calm.
She said good morning like nothing happened. Like I did not take something from her that she can never get back.
She was very respectful.
If not for the fact that I noticed she did not look at my face—kept her gaze low, focused on my collar, my shoulder, anywhere but my eyes—I would have said it was all a dream.
But I know better.
The bloodstain on my sheets is a glaring reminder. I was her first.
This morning, she walked with a little bit of difficulty, though she tried to hide it. I messed up. This is frustrating.
I turn from my ruined desk and pace to the window.
A soft knock. Amara enters, her head bowed. She does not ask questions.
She simply begins picking up the broken glass, sweeping the papers into a neat pile. She is beautiful, as always.
But today, I barely see her.
I walk to the window and look down at the garden.
Naomi sits on the floor beneath the oak tree, her back against the trunk.
She holds Alex in her arms, his head resting on her chest. He is sleeping. But she is not looking at him.
She stares off into empty space. Her honey-colored eyes are blank, lost in thought.
I know what is on her mind.
I do not know how long I stand there. The sun moves across the sky.
Amara finishes cleaning and slips out without a word. I do not notice her leaving.
When I finally turn, the room is empty.
I walk to my bedroom. I need a shower. I need to prepare for the office. I need to forget last night.
I strip off my clothes and step under the hot spray.
The water pounds against my shoulders, but it does not wash away the guilt. It does not wash away the memory of her face.
I step out, dry off, and walk to my wardrobe.
I pick out a black suit, a white shirt, a gray tie. I am buttoning my cuffs when I hear a knock.
"Come in," I say.
The door opens. Naomi's soft voice comes from the doorway.
"Sir."
I turn. She stands there in her simple clothes, her hair damp from a recent shower. She does not meet my eyes.
"Anything you need, Miss Abbot?"
She takes a breath. Steady. Professional.
"Alex has been having frequent diarrhea lately. I want to ask your permission to take him to a pediatrician."
Straight to the point. No stuttering. No break in her sentences. No mincing of words. She could be asking about the weather.
I am impressed by her professionalism.
"How is he now?"
"He is asleep, sir."
I nod. "You may take him to the hospital. Flynn will drive you."
"Thank you, sir."
She leaves immediately. No further conversation. No lingering glances.
I stand there, half-dressed, staring at the door she closed behind her.
This girl is very interesting. A perfect master of confidentiality.
Most women would be crying, demanding answers, asking what it meant. She acts like nothing happened.
I do not know if I am relieved or annoyed.
---
Naomi POV
I release the breath I have been holding for so long.
My back presses against the hallway wall. My knees feel weak.
My heart is pounding so loud I am sure the whole mansion can hear it.
That was very intense.
I try my best to act like last night did not happen.
Like I am not affected by it. But that is a lie. I am shaking inside.
I pray he did not find out I was a virgin. That would be so embarrassing.
I do not know what came over me last night. I was blinded by his beauty. His gray eyes. His strong hands. The way he said "everyone leaves" with so much pain in his voice.
It is mind-boggling. Everything was hazy. I was not myself.
Now I am not okay. I lost my virginity, and it was to my boss. This is messed up.
I push off the wall and walk to Alex's room. He is still sleeping, curled around his wolf.
I lay down beside him on the soft rug and watch his chest rise and fall.
He sleeps peacefully. But my mind is a hundred places at once.
I slept with his father. What have I done?
I stay there until he wakes. His gray eyes blink open, and he gives me a sleepy smile.
My heart cracks a little. He is so innocent. He has no idea what happened between the two adults who care for him.
I prepare him for the trip to the hospital—fresh diaper, clean clothes, a bottle of milk. He babbles happily, kicking his feet.
When we are ready, I carry him downstairs and out the front door.
Flynn holds the car door open for me. He is young, maybe twenty-five, with kind eyes and a warm smile.
He wears a simple jacket and his hair is neatly combed.
"Thank you," I say, sliding into the back seat with Alex on my lap.
Flynn closes the door and gets into the driver's seat.
He glances at me through the rearview mirror.
"How are you doing today, Naomi?"
"I'm alright." I feel heat rise to my cheeks. Why am I blushing?
He hesitates. "Um, there is something I wanted to ask you."
My stomach drops. Does he know? Does he know about me and Mr. Aaron?
"What is it?" My voice comes out nervous.
"Are you free tomorrow night?"
I heave a sigh of relief so deep my shoulders sag.
"Yes, I am."
"Would you like to go out with me?" He seems nervous now, his fingers tapping the steering wheel.
I am over the moon. I blush like a schoolgirl being asked out by her crush.
I like Flynn. He seems nice. Kind. Normal. I have always liked him, actually.
The way he smiles, the way he held the door for me, the way he says my name.
"I would like to go out with you," I say, smiling. I push the thought of Mr. Aaron to the back of my mind.
Last night was a mistake. Tonight is a chance at something real.
"See you tomorrow, my lady." Flynn grins and opens the door for me as we arrive at the hospital.
"Thank you," I say, blushing again.
---
The doctor says Alex's diarrhea is caused by his new tooth. A molar coming in. Nothing serious.
He looks so cute now whenever he smiles—two tiny white teeth peeking through his pink gums.
They give him medicine to help with the discomfort, and he relaxes immediately, babbling and reaching for my hair.
By the time we get home, he is in good spirits.
---
The next evening, Alex is in my room with me. I hold up two dresses—one green, one blue—and ask him which one looks better.
He just giggles and claps his hands.
"Come on, baby. Help me out."
He looks up at me with those big gray eyes and smiles. That is his answer. He likes everything.
I laugh and pick out the green spaghetti strap mini dress and black pumps. I let my hair fall in light waves down my back.
When I look in the mirror, I barely recognize myself. I look... pretty.
It is night now, and Alex is still not asleep. He is wide awake, playing with his wolf, cooing at the ceiling fan.
I do not know what to do. I am running late. Flynn will be here soon.
I come up with an idea. A terrible, dangerous idea.
I will leave Alex with his father.
I just pray Mr. Aaron does not fire me.
I knock lightly on his study door. My heart pounds.
"Come in."
His deep voice comes from inside.
I walk in, propping Alex up on my hip. Mr. Aaron looks up from his desk. His gray eyes land on me—and then they freeze.
His jaw tightens. His nostrils flare.
Why is he looking at me like that?
"Why are you dressed like that?" he asks rudely. His eyes drag from my face down to my heels, slow and burning.
I swallow. "I have a date. I was hoping you could watch Alex tonight, sir. He is still awake, strangely."
"A date with who?"
Why do you care? I think. But I answer. "Flynn, sir."
His jaw clenches. His eyes go dark. He stands up slowly, walks toward me, and takes Alex from my arms without a word.
"You may leave," he says. His voice is ice.
"Thank you, sir."
I turn to go. On my way out, I bump into a small table near the door. A vase tips. Water spills. The contents crash to the floor.
I bend down to pick it up, my face burning with embarrassment.
Behind me, I hear Mr. Aaron curse under his breath.
"Leave, Miss Abbot. Amara will clean that up."
"I'm sorry, sir. Thank you."
I hurry out.
---
Back in my room, I grab my purse and check my makeup.
My hands are shaking. I take a breath, steady myself, and head for the stairs.
As I pass Mr. Aaron's study, I hear his voice. He is on the phone.
"Do not test my patience," he says. A pause. Then, lower, darker: "Wear something green, short, and tight tonight."
I freeze.
Who is he talking to?
I do not wait to find out. I rush down the stairs and out the front door, where Flynn is waiting with a smile.
But the words echo in my head all night.
Green. Short. Tight.
That is exactly what I am wearing.
---