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11

Paige

I probably shouldn’t have brought up meeting Ariella at the park, but I’m sure that Moreno already knows that we met. Isn’t that why he has his men follow us around?

There’s not a moment of privacy inside or beyond these four walls.

His eyes tighten, and I pull the covers tighter around myself. My nightgown is too thin for his heated stare. I should have worn sweats to bed, something less suggestive and revealing.

“Do you make it a habit of visiting all your nannies late at night by sneaking into their bedroom?”

A darkness looms over him at my words. Did I hit a nerve?

“I was always faithful to my wife,” Moreno bellows. His words hit me like a slap to my face, and he stands.

I’ve insulted him.

Well, he probably shouldn’t have come into my bedroom unannounced.

He needs to learn a little respect. Just because I work for him doesn’t mean he owns me. He can’t just strut into my bedroom without permission.

“Sorry,” I apologize. “But can’t we have this conversation tomorrow?” I glance at the clock. It’s just after nine o’clock. It’s not really that late. I’m in bed early because entertaining Nova is exhausting.

Not that I want to admit that to Moreno.

“No.” His tone is clipped. “Get dressed and meet me downstairs.”

Moreno wordlessly stands and exits out of my bedroom through the main door.

What the hell just happened?

I sit and stare at the door for a few seconds before pushing myself out of bed and obliging his request. Why do I need to get dressed?

I grumble under my breath and grab a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

We’re not going anywhere, right?

I hurry into the bathroom, dress, and then quietly head out of the bedroom.

I’m surprised there isn’t a guard standing outside the door and relieved. Maybe Moreno is beginning to trust me. I am watching his daughter.

I head down the hallway, and he’s waiting for me at the bottom of the stairwell.

“Took you long enough.” Moreno’s brow furrows. “That outfit won’t do. Go back and change into something that you’d wear out of the house.”

I glance down at my comfortable clothes. “I would wear this out,” I mutter under my breath. It’s not exactly fashionable or cute, but does it need to be?

He’s still in his midnight black suit that he wore today, suit tie and all.

I’m about ready to act like his daughter and throw a temper tantrum, but exhale a heavy breath instead.

“Fine.” I head back to the bedroom and shut the door.

I don’t have anything super fancy other than my interview suit, and I’m not wearing that for whatever he has planned.

Footsteps are heading up the stairwell. Moreno must be coming upstairs.

Does he intend on helping me pick something out?


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