CEO Daddy (Crescent Cove 6.50)

I opened the driver’s door to my Mercedes and tossed my briefcase on the passenger seat. “You’re speaking to me right now. Doesn’t seem like I vanished.”

“Have you spoken to her?”

“No.”

“When do you plan on it?”

I hadn’t.

All right, so that wasn’t entirely true. I knew I’d have to deal with her, but I had a lot going on. Besides, just lining up a nanny—even if I wasn’t enjoying the benefit of her services quite yet—had lifted a load from my shoulders.

Assuming we were right about her latent nanny capabilities.

It would’ve helped had I actually seen her references, even of a personal nature. I didn’t think she was secretly a serial killer, but as of now, my only testimonials for her were my grandmother’s gut feelings and my dick.

And my dick didn’t know jack about how to take care of a baby.

“You know what today was. I was meeting with clients and investors and industry people all day.”

“How did it go?”

“Fine.” I knew she was just trying to help so I exhaled, long and slow. “I was going to spend an hour at the gym, so I’ll just spend it stopping by Hannah’s instead. What’s her address?”

A phone call would’ve sufficed, but I told myself I was already in my car and Lily had a sitter for a little while longer. Face to face was how I conducted as much of my business as possible.

That was all this was. Business.

Plain and simple.

“Before I give it to you, I have a question. Do you know Hannah?”

I reached up to loosen my tie. All of a sudden, my clothes felt too restrictive, despite the fact that my suits were practically a second skin. I worked in them, relaxed in them, fucked in them—

No. Not that I fucked period lately, but I’d never indulged in an afternoon quickie or dinner date bathroom romp. I wasn’t that sort of man. Everything was separate. Defined. I didn’t understand being ruled by passion. It just didn’t compute.

Or it hadn’t used to. Now I wasn’t so sure.

“She’s now my employee, is she not?”

“You know very well what I mean.”

“You mean before you introduced us.”

My grandmother waited.

“I don’t know Hannah Jacobs,” I said firmly, and it didn’t feel like a lie.

Not entirely.

The woman I’d met on New Year’s Eve had seemed different than the Hannah who had appeared in my grandmother’s living room. Halves of the same whole perhaps, or maybe her true nature had been hidden behind the facade she’d worn that night. I’d worn one as well.

So, no, I didn’t know her. Not nearly as much as I wanted to, and that was a goddamn problem.

“Sure about that?” But this time she didn’t wait for a response, just rattled off Hannah’s address.

“Thanks. And do me a favor? Don’t call to warn her I’m coming over.”

“Pray tell, why not?”