Brogan (Carolina Reapers 9)

“Who is this woman to you?” the reporter asked, and my chest cinched tight. “Rumors are flying, but no one seems to have the scoop. You’re one of the Reapers’ most eligible bachelors, but you’ve been sighted with this unnamed female for weeks now. Are you off the market?”

His gaze narrowed, those hazel eyes focusing on me in the photo before he looked at the reporter and shrugged.

He shrugged.

“Oh, don’t keep us in suspense. You know how much the fans adore learning about Reaper partners!” the reporter urged. “They’re as much a part of the fandom as any. You know fans will be chomping at the bit to find out any intel they can on the mystery woman if she’s managed to capture our own Demon’s heart.”

“She’s just the nanny,” he said, deadpan as if he’d said that dozens of times to dozens of different people.

The three words hit me like blocks of ice.

Just. The. Nanny.

I furrowed my brow at the phone, barely hearing the follow-up questions from the reporter as the interview closed out. The video started over again, the damn app playing it in a loop when I couldn’t connect my brain to my body to turn the thing off.

The front door to the house opened and shut, the sound of Brogan’s heavy gear bag thudding to the floor shortly after.

Then footsteps.

I couldn’t move.

I was frozen in this horrible place of pain and confusion. I felt like an idiot. I’d been sitting here, stewing back and forth, torturing myself on whether I should say yes to forever with this man, and he was off telling people I was just the nanny.

“Hey,” Brogan called as he rounded the corner, and my mind finally realigned with my body. I muted my phone but didn’t take the video off the screen. “How are my girls?”

His words stung, especially when his tone was so damn different from what I’d just heard on the interview he did not two hours ago.

“Skye is good,” I said on autopilot. “She had a bath, and she’s sleeping.”

Brogan tilted his head, noticing my tone, and sank onto the couch next to me. “What’s wrong?” he asked, and I just stared at him for a few breaths. I couldn’t get my thoughts straight, my feelings, everything just…hurt. “Is this about me proposing?” he asked, reaching for me, but I backed up, rising from the couch. “Because you know I’m not going to rush you—”

“Why did you really propose, Brogan?” I asked, my phone shaking in my hand as I stood there looking down at him.

He looked utterly confused, and anger helped ease some of the heartbreak in my chest. How could he play me for a fool like this?

“You know why,” he said, his tone suddenly shifting like he was defusing a bomb.

Maybe he was because I couldn’t stop the onslaught of emotions storming inside me. “Because I’m all you’ve got for Skye?” I snapped, and the words stung on their way out.

Brogan narrowed his gaze, going wholly still on the couch. “You’re joking, right?”

“Does it look like I’m laughing?”

He visibly swallowed, then took a deep breath. “If I haven’t shown you enough how much you mean to me then—”

I turned the volume up on my phone, turning the screen toward him.

“She’s just the nanny,” spilled from the speaker, and he scowled at himself on the screen before he quickly stood up.

I backed up a few steps as he approached me, and he dropped his arms, defeated. “Fiona,” he said, saying my name like a plea. “I said that to protect you.”

“Protect me?” I snapped, closing the video and shoving the phone in my pocket. “How? By ripping my heart out?” I shook my head, my entire body shaking now. “If that’s all I ever was,” I said, angry tears clogging my throat. “Just this convenient thing who happened to be really great with your daughter, then that’s all you needed to say. You didn’t have to make me feel…make me fall for you.”

He flinched like I’d slapped him. “You know better,” he growled, and I glared up at him.

“Do I?” I clapped back. “I mean, honestly, it’s been months. That’s. It.” I stomped from the room, heading to mine to grab my bag. I had to get out of here. I had to run, to escape the sounds of she’s just the nanny repeating over and over in my head. I shoved some clothes into my bag, my chest cracking as I did.

“You know me better than people I’ve known for years,” he said, voice rough as he followed me from my room and back downstairs toward the entryway. He stood in front of the door, blocking my exit. “I’ve shared pieces of myself with you that I’ve never shown anyone, Fiona. So don’t come at me with this bullshit. You know I love you. And yeah, it may be fast, but I don’t like waiting on things once I’ve made up my mind. You’re it for me. I want you for the long haul. You’re the one who’s terrified of commitment.” He glanced at me, pain and anger churning in his eyes. “Look. It has you running scared.”