Page 18 of Billionaire Grump

Usually, it doesn’t bother me, but now that I have a daughter, I want to shield her from the unnecessary scrutiny of the media. She’s not a wild animal to be photographed.

I glance in at Amelia, and she’s lying in bed, her eyes open. She’s quiet, and while I hate waking her, I’m not sure if she’d come to find me. The house is big, and I’m still new to her.

I pull the door closed, hoping she might still get a little more sleep, but she sits up in bed. “No!” she shouts at me, proclaiming she’s awake and ready to start her day.

Amelia climbs off the bed that is much too big for her and plops down with two feet on the floor, scurrying over to me.

“How about we check and see if your nanny is awake?” I say. At least if I refer to her as the nanny, it’ll put some much-needed distance between us.

Amelia bobs her head excitedly and takes my hand as we walk next door. I give a firm knock. I don’t want to just waltz in if she’s sleeping in her underwear.

Well, maybe I do. She probably shouldn’t sleep like that, or naked, since my daughter is in the next room over and she’s supposed to be caring for her.

“What?” Clare’s grumpy sleep-filled groan mutters through the door.

My cock twitches at her voice, imagining her lying in bed beside me.

No.

That’s not going to happen. Zero chance. We are a ticking time bomb. Just being in the same vicinity as her is dangerous.

“Come in,” she grumbles when I don’t respond quickly enough.

I turn the handle, relieved that the door is unlocked.

Clare sits up in bed. Her tank top hugs her breasts, her nipples on full display through the thin blue fabric.

I try not to stare, but it’s damn hard to keep my eyes on hers. “Amelia is awake. I have work to do.” I shuffle my daughter into Clare’s room.

Amelia rushes toward the bed, climbing onto the queen-sized mattress.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Clare says, grabbing Amelia before she can jump on the bed.

I shut the door, leaving the two of them to handle breakfast and get Amelia dressed for the day. Heading down the back stairwell, I slip my phone out of my pocket. I scroll through the dozen or so missed calls and texts.

Most I don’t care about, but Connor, my younger brother, left a message. I rub my jaw. I should have told him about Amelia before he heard the news through the grapevine.

I don’t bother hitting play on the message. I’m sure he’s scolding me and giving me a piece of his mind.

Heading into the kitchen, I flip on the lights and grab coffee beans to make a fresh pot while I call Connor back. I’ve got a basic coffee pot in addition to an espresso machine. This morning, I want coffee, black. Anything else would be too sweet.

“Hey, Asshat,” Connor says when he answers the call.

“Nice to talk to you too,” I grumble. I add water to the coffee maker and start the brew cycle. It can’t come fast enough.

“Were you going to tell me you have a daughter, or let me find out from the girls at the office blabbing on about it?”

“Shit,” I mutter, and run a hand over my eyes. “Has word already traveled that fast?” The question is more to myself, but Connor takes it as his cue to answer.

“How could you expect it not to when you put the word ‘billionaire’ in the nanny wanted ad?”

He’s right. “Not my doing,” I say. But it doesn’t matter. It’s too late for it to matter, because the damage has been done.

“So, when do I get to meet your little hellion?” Connor asks.

“Her name is Amelia, and I’m not sure. I’ve got a trip planned next week for Europe, so timing is sort of an issue at the moment.”

Connor laughs, but he doesn’t sound amused. It’s more of an annoyed chuckle. “Can’t even make time for family. Damn, that hurts.”


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