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  I could take the elevator straight to my penthouse office, if I wanted. It would be easier, honestly. Straight to the office, straight to work. Dad gave me advice, though, years ago before he handed the company over to me, and I hear his words every day.

  Stop in every morning and show your face. Let them know you’re there. Let them know you’re with them. Let them know you’re watching. A company without a visible CEO is a ship without a captain.

  So, I stop in. I smile, I wave. I make them feel part of something bigger than themselves. And, yeah, I make myself feel pretty damn good, too. I’ve always gotten a little drunk on the look in their eyes. They want to be me—the power, the looks, the money. I’m a god to them. It sounds conceited, but it’s pure truth.

  Iris and I make our way toward the stairs at the opposite end of the building that lead to the top floor, her nose in her phone as usual. When my father was CEO, he had the whole top floor. Now, I split it with Iris, though she splits her half with a small office for our assistant—or lack thereof, right now.

  “See you for lunch?” she asks, a request that doesn’t require an answer. It’s Tuesday. We always meet for lunch on Tuesdays, never Wednesdays. I kiss the space just to the left of her lips and push open the glass door with my name on it.

  Orrick Locke, CEO

  The first thing I do every morning is walk to my window and look out at the city. I’m on top of it all. The cars down below zig and zag through our crowded streets, like tiny ants. I feel a bit like God, if there is such a thing, seeing them flit around with their insignificant lives, while I sit in my tower and watch it all unfold.

  The phone rings, pulling me out of my thoughts and back to reality. I walk to my L-shaped executive desk in the center of the room and lift the phone from the receiver.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr. Locke,” the meek voice of my temporary assistant fills the line, “I have Phillip Vance on hold for you.”

  Fuck.

  “Patch him through, Elena,” I tell her, shaking my head already.

  I hear a faint click, and then his gruff tone is assaulting my ear. “Locke.” My name is a full sentence with him. Full of doubt. Full of anger. Full of questions. “Update?” The guy is a man of few words, which I normally respect, but at the moment, I could use the buffer of words while I try to figure out how I’m going to bullshit my way through this.

  “Hey, Phil,” I say, rubbing my fingers between the place where the neck of my shirt meets my skin. “You can rest assured my team and I are still on it. Right now, it doesn’t seem like the police have any new leads and, from what we gather, they believe the guy was working alone. We’re still monitoring everything and combing through every piece of information we can find. Once again, though, I hope you know how deeply regretful I am about all that happened.”

  “Yeah, I got your, uh, fruit basket.” The fruit basket, as he so delightfully calls it, came with a four-thousand-dollar bottle of twenty-year-old, single-barrel bourbon, but I can tell it doesn’t impress him.

  “Right, well, it was just a small token of our apologies and a thank you for continuing to trust us to handle your company’s assets with confidentiality.”

  “As long as the boy’s gone,” he says.

  I look across the office, where I can vaguely see Elena’s head bobbing as she scribbles something down, her ear pressed to the phone.

  My blood runs cold. “Absolutely. You can count on it. Listen, I’m just about to step into a meeting. Can I call you back as soon as I have an update?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  I set the phone down with a heavy hand, watching as Elena does the same, and swallow. I push up from my desk, adjusting my suit jacket as I walk toward the door and pull it open, walking across the narrow hall and into Elena’s office.

  She shoots up from her desk. “Mr. Locke.”

  I point toward my office. “Were you listening in on the conversation I just had with a client?”

  Her eyes grow wide. “Th-the other board members usually have me lis—”

  “Do I look like a regular board member to you?” I demand, shoving my forefinger into my chest so hard it stings.

  “No, of course not, sir.” She tucks a piece of frizzy dark hair behind her ears, looking weak.

  “No. I am the CEO. The clients I handle want—no, they deserve the highest level of respect and confidentiality. The other board members’ clients aren’t paying for that, nor are they entitled to such treatment. What you did for anyone but me doesn’t matter once you walk off that elevator to the top floor. My clients get the highest sensitivity when we deal with their matters. That means no one listening in on conversations, no one taking notes.” I snatch the notepad from her desk. “Do I make myself clear?”

  She is practically shaking, unable to meet my eye. “Y-yes sir. Of course, sir. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” I say. “Be better.” I jerk her door open, catching Iris’ eyes as I walk back across the hallway between our offices. There is a question in her eyes, but I nod and she understands.

  We’d nearly been caught. Everything had almost blown up, but it hadn’t. It won’t.

  Everything is fine. I handled it.

  I always handle it.

  Chapter Four

  Iris

  “So, what do you think of Olivia?” I ask, picking at a piece of bread in the basket between us. I can look at it. I can touch it. I can never eat it.

  Orrick’s eyebrows, thick and dark like mine, lift up just slightly, almost unnoticeably, and he grins as he looks up from his phone. Sometimes I forget it isn’t permanently glued to his hands. “She seems great.”

  “Her references were excellent. The families she’s worked for really seemed to adore her,” I tell him.

  He studies my face, his eyes as unreadable as ever. “As long as John likes her, I’m happy. You know that.”

  I nod, taking a sip of the chilled cucumber water in my glass. He lifts his phone again as mine chimes. I pick it up, reading over an email from one of our clients and searching for keywords. I skim it quickly and place my phone back down. “Do you think you two can handle things while I’m gone the week after next?”

  He reaches for my hand, laying his phone down as well. “I can always handle it without you, Iris. That doesn’t mean I want to.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go?” I press, knowing his answer before he gives it.

  “You know I can’t. Even if I wanted to—” AKA, he doesn’t, “—things are too busy at the office right now with everything going on. Until things cool down with the Vance thing, I just can’t afford to do anything out of the ordinary.”

  I swallow. I’d been expecting the answer. Since The Vance Thing, nothing about our life has been normal, and I don’t expect it to return any time soon. “I’m going to take AJ with me, then.”

  His thumb rubs over my knuckles, but I don’t miss the way his eyes darken. “Fair enough. I think that’s a good idea.”

  “So, do you still believe you and Olivia can handle it?”

  “You’re the one who hired her, Iris. You tell me.” It’s a challenge, and he wants to see me fail. This is our dynamic, a constant struggle to see who will overcome the other.

  “I know Olivia can handle it. I guess I’m asking if you can.”

  “I’m sure work will keep me busy enough that I won’t have to wonder.” He takes the last bite of his filet mignon and wipes his lips with the cloth napkin, discarding it on his plate. “I’m going to interview for the new assistant position while you’re gone. Do you have anything specific you’d like me to look for?” he asks.

  I try not to think about it, the ever-present knot in my stomach growing at the thought of filling the seat that’s been emptied. I try to keep my expression collected. “Nothing I can think of.”

  He scoots back from his seat, placing the twenty-dollar bill in the black folder our waitress brought our receipt in. He takes his card, sliding it back in his w
allet and scratching his name across the line.

  “You ready?”

  I stand, running a quick hand through my hair before placing it in my husband’s waiting palm. Together, we walk out of the restaurant. Neither of us miss the envious glances cast our way. I know to those who watch us what we must look like—the ultimate couple. Rich, powerful, beautiful.

  People see us and they want what we have. What they don’t know is that every house has secrets, and our secrets are barely holding our lives together. The house we’ve built is made of cards.

  Chapter Five

  Iris

  We walk in the house at a quarter after nine, and the silence is overwhelming. The only light on the bottom floor comes from the lamp in the living room. Orrick looks at me, his head cocked to the side, as we tiptoe across the entryway and into the living room.

  “Hello, hello,” I call, my voice practically echoing in all the quiet, causing Olivia to jump. She spins around, looking at us both over the back of the sofa.

  “Oh, hi.” She closes the book in her hand, standing up in an instant. Her eyes lock with Orrick’s, then mine.

  “It’s so quiet,” I say, glancing down at the book.

  “Sorry, yeah. I’m not much of a TV girl, I guess. John’s sound asleep, homework finished.”

  She is waiting for our approval, but I’m not ready to give it just yet. “Did you have any trouble?”

  Her eyes widen. “None at all. John’s a sweetheart. We finished his homework after piano lessons, and then he played outside for a while before dinner. There are seared scallops left over for you all. Lily wrapped them up.”

  “Did he go down okay? He can be difficult to get to sleep,” I say.

  She presses her lips together, looking uneasy. “He wanted to wait up for you, but I only had to ask him once to lay down. You may want to go in and tell him good night, though. I told him I’d ask you to.”

  She appears pleased with herself, but humble still. She wants us to tell her she’s done well, and by all accounts, she has, but Orrick speaks before I have the chance. “It sounds like your first day was a success. We can’t thank you enough, Olivia. John is lucky to have you, and so are we.” He’s schmoozing, as usual, and I watch him take a step toward her, her eyes wavering a bit as she takes in the sight of him. Women lose themselves in the presence of my husband. When we’d first gotten married, I found it exciting, knowing he was all mine. Now, though, it is just irritating.

  “I…was happy to do it,” she says, brushing a piece of her dark hair from her shoulders. I didn’t pay close enough attention to her yesterday, but thanks to the pleased look on my husband’s face, I take in her appearance more closely. She is painfully pretty, young and exotic with striking green eyes and full lips. Everything about her is full, her hips and her breasts, which she is failing at hiding beneath an oversized sweater and leggings. She’s so different from me, and for the first time, I wonder if I’ve made a mistake hiring someone who looks like she does. Orrick has never given me a reason to doubt his loyalty to me—his only affair is with our work—but watching him watch her has me doubting just how much I can trust him. I have no right to feel the worry I do, but that doesn’t make it go away.

  “You’re free to go now,” I say, stepping up next to him. “I know it’s getting late.”

  “Thank you,” she says, dog-earing a page in the book she’s holding. “I guess I’ll see you guys in the morning.” She traces a finger along the top of the sofa as she walks past. Her footsteps become fainter as she nears the door. When the door opens, then shuts, I turn away from Orrick and head for the stairs. I’m utterly exhausted. Today was the first time I’ve worked a full day in so long, usually settling for midday shifts that allow me to be home when John is. With The Vance Thing, that just isn’t possible anymore.

  I push open John’s bedroom door when we make it to the second level, checking to see that he is, indeed, sleeping peacefully, then close it.

  Orrick is just behind me, but as I walk away, he pushes it back open.

  “Don’t wake him up,” I warn in a whisper.

  “I won’t, I promise,” he says, shaking his head as he continues to walk.

  I can hear AJ talking from his bedroom, the low rumble of his voice carrying down the hall. We are used to it by now, the sound of his voice at all hours of the night, talking to Greg, who remains in the basement office, and…honestly, I don’t know who else he talks to. Still, I’m not sure if I could go to sleep without his baritone to lull me there.

  Once inside my room, I strip out of my clothes and into the silk nightgown I laid out this morning. Orrick arrives shortly after me, a calm smile on his face.

  “Is he okay?”

  “Sleeping soundly,” he says, unbuttoning his pants. He undresses in silence while I remove my jewelry and brush my hair. His voice interrupts my thoughts. “Do you remember when he used to sleep with us every night? Do you ever miss that?”

  “Miss waking up with feet in my back?” I joke, moving to the bathroom to clean my face. “Not particularly.”

  “I’m serious, Iris. When did he grow up? He’s almost as long as his bed now. When did that happen?”

  I wonder what brought on his sudden nostalgia. “Little by little and all at once,” I say, feeling sad as I think back to the nights Orrick is talking about—when John wanted us around all the time. When his favorite place to be was in my arms. When I was the best person he knew.

  I shove the toothbrush in my mouth, turning it on and letting the buzz drown out my thoughts.

  When I am done, Orrick replaces me, and I move to the doorway to watch him prepare for bed.

  “I’m surprised Olivia was able to get him down so easily.”

  “You’re just disappointed he didn’t ask for you more,” he says, eyeing me as he pulls the piece of floss between his teeth.

  I press my lips together, annoyed that he is correct. “I thought he might miss me, yes.” I hate the sting of fresh tears I feel in my eyes.

  “He did, babe.” He wipes his chin, checking himself out in the mirror before planting a minty kiss on the corner of my lips and slinking past me. I turn around in the doorway as he pulls the covers back and climbs into bed. “You know he would’ve rather had you here with him.”

  “I know,” I admit. “I wasn’t hoping he had a bad day, I just…I don’t know. It would’ve been nice to know he didn’t completely go on about his day without me.”

  He is propped up against the headboard of the bed, ready to turn on the television he needs to quiet his mind to sleep, but instead, he stares at me with a smirk. “So, what you’re saying is you hate how well-adjusted our kid is?”

  I roll my eyes, some of the sadness and anger disappearing at his joke. “You’re right. It’s just me who needs to adjust, I guess.” I pull the covers back on my side and slide into bed next to him.

  He reaches for my hand, squeezing it cautiously. “It’s only temporary, Ris.” The nickname he hasn’t called me in years. “Just until things calm down.”

  I nod, sliding further down in the bed and zoning out on the television as he turns on the news. Truth is, I can’t tell him I’m saddest because I don’t want it to be temporary. I want to go back to loving the job like I always did. I never wanted to slow my work down because of starting a family. It wasn’t in me. Or, at least, the me I used to be. I have no idea what motherhood has done with her, but I hate it. I miss her. There were days before John, when Orrick couldn’t get me out of the office before midnight. I thrived on working, on power, but nine months changed all of that, and I still have no idea why.

  Until I laid eyes on that baby, I thought nothing would change. I knew I’d love him, but I assumed I’d always love my job, too. The moment they placed him in my arms, everything that once meant so much faded away, and there was only him.

  I love him so much it makes me resent him, my instincts in constant conflict with the motherhood gene that has bloomed in my core, the one that wants every
thing to revolve around John. The one that requires it.

  I shouldn’t have cared that he had a good day. I’d been back to work for a full day for the first time in so long, and rather than being happy, I am irritated he didn’t miss me enough. Who is this woman I’ve become?

  My thoughts are interrupted as a familiar face fills the screen, causing my body to tense up. No.

  Orrick changes the channel quickly, and when I look at him, his jaw is tight.

  “You’d think they’d lay off of it already,” he says. “It’s been two months.”

  Since The Vance Thing, he means. Since our world changed. Since everything we’ve worked for was nearly taken away.

  I nod, but don’t speak. I can’t.

  What have we done?

  Chapter Six

  Olivia

  I pull into the drive of my apartment after leaving the Lockes’ house with a sadness in my heart. The sadness has been there for months, but it feels like years. I hadn’t expected returning to work after a loss so significant to be easy, but I never expected it to be so hard.

  I sit in my car for a while before going inside, knowing what will be waiting for me when I do.

  Memories. Pieces of the man I loved. The man I’ll never see again.

  After the long walk up to my third-floor apartment, I turn the key in the lock and step inside. The musty apartment pales in comparison to the mansion I spent my day in, but I would choose mine a million times over if only just for the memories of him that still linger.