Page 8 of Billionaire Grump

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“Room and board during the trial period,” he says gruffly.

I’ll bet he can afford more based on the fancy ride and driver, but maybe he hired someone to pick him up. It’s not like he always has someone chauffeur him around, right?

I have nowhere to go, and I can look for other work while I’m living under his roof. At least it’s a bed to sleep in and food in the fridge. Besides, my ungracious ex-husband, Zander, won’t know where I am. He’ll never guess I’m staying with a stranger. Which means I’ll be safe.

“I’ll take it.”

His driver opens the back door and helps Amelia into the car seat. He seems like he’s had more practice than the handsome troll. Not that he looks like a troll, because he doesn’t. Trolls aren’t easy on the eyes and don’t make your heart swoon.

I really thought he was a bad guy kidnapping a little girl. I’m hanging around with Sadie too much, listening to her crazy stories after she swore me to secrecy. Yeah, as if either one of us can keep a secret.

I open the front door to sit up front, and he shakes his head. “Backseat,” he says, putting me in the back with Amelia.

I have my carry-on luggage with me, nothing else, thankfully, or else it would have been a hassle to retrieve after spending nearly three hours dealing with the officers at the airport.

“Where to?” the driver asks, glancing at me.

“She’s coming home with us,” the gruff troll says.

I buckle my seatbelt and lean forward. “Hey, I never got your name.”

He clears his throat. “Good.”

“What?” I don’t understand. “What am I supposed to call you?” I ask. Why is he being so freaking difficult? Does he enjoy this as some type of payback for what I did and the way I treated him? I swear it was just because I was looking out for Amelia. The kid was clearly in trouble. I just didn’t realize that he’d gotten her out of it.

“Sir works for me,” he says.

I huff under my breath. “I’m not calling you sir.”

My cheeks burn at the thought of why I would call him that, down on my knees, begging him to let me undo his belt buckle and—nope, I won’t allow myself to go there with such naughty thoughts.

He’s off-limits and a thorn in my side. There’s no chance I’ll sleep with the father of the little girl I nanny for—well, little chance. Never say never.

He is hot.

Grumpalicious.

Alphalicious.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

“His name is Levi,” the driver says.

“I ought to fire you, Douglas,” Levi grunts.

“But you won’t. We’re too much like family.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he mutters.

I exhale a heavy breath, and for the first time today since boarding the flight, I’m quiet. Amelia wiggles in her car seat and shows me her sparkly unicorn as if I haven’t seen her cuddle the stuffed animal for the past couple of hours.

“Does your friend have a name?” I ask, tapping the unicorn’s nose.

Amelia stares up at me. “Airplane Girl,” she says.

Levi’s head snaps back, watching our interaction. Does he worry that I won’t know how to look after his kid? I’ve been around children my entire life. I worked at a preschool before I got married. I could probably call the director and ask if there are any openings. But the pay was never great, and finding an apartment on minimum wage will be brutal.

“That’s right,” I say, smiling reassuringly. “I’m Clare.”


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