“I understand that.” There was no way Katie could truly understand it, but he very nearly believed her when she said it. “But there’s no way they can grow up to be stable, well-adjusted adults if they never have any freedom to test their limits.” She seemed to sense that she’d raised his hackles, because she quickly continued. “Not limits that would put their safety in jeopardy, of course. But every adult I’ve ever known takes the occasional day off.” Katie smiled tentatively. “Some of them even visit the park.”
Part of him wanted to give in to her, if only to keep that smile on her face.
But he couldn’t do that.
“I’m willing to consider that theory, but the fact is that I can’t have you disregarding the schedule. It was designed for a purpose. If you can’t stick to it, we’ll find someone who can.” He took a step back. “Good afternoon, Ms. Crestley.”
He was several steps away when she called after him. “I think you’re making a mistake.”
That stopped him in his tracks, and he turned slowly to face her. “What did you say?”
“I think you’re handling this the wrong way.” Katie gave a little shrug. “You don’t necessarily know what the girls need. You’re not with them very much.”
“I see them every day.” A defensive heat washed through his blood.
“Sure, you visit them for a few minutes before bed. That’s not enough. If you ask me, you have two options. You can do more—in which case I’ll defer to your judgment—or you can let me be the one who determines what the girls need.”
Armin’s rage was the purest he’d ever felt. “You are out of line, Ms. Crestley.” She flinched at his cutting tone. “I won’t be spoken to like that by a member of my staff.” Armin considered himself to be a thoughtful, measured person, but he was one word away from firing her. “If you step out of line like this again, you’ll find yourself seeking other employment.”
Katie’s face turned a bright, hot red. She looked as angry as he felt, and his pulse throbbed at his temples. Maybe this was the end. Maybe the admittedly stunning nanny would walk out right now and never look back.
She let out a breath. “Fine.” Katie crossed her arms over her chest. “I understand how things are supposed to go. And I’m very sorry for having worried you.” She lifted her chin a fraction of an inch. “If you’ll excuse me, the girls are waiting for me.”
Unlike everyone else who had ever approached Armin in his life, she didn’t wait for him to dismiss her. She simply turned around, went into the nursery, and shut the door behind her.
He stared at the closed door, his mind racing.
She was clearly good for the girls. They looked happier by the day. But she didn’t seem to get what palace life was like. This was about safety. This was about the predictability of a schedule. It was what all of them needed.
Her words echoed in his mind.
Maybe he should spend more time with the girls. Maybe he could help with the homework, too.
Armin opened the door, preparing to go in, but all three of them were laughing together, pointing at something on Seraphine’s notepad.
They didn’t need him in the slightest.
So Armin went back out, adjusted his tie, and stood up straight. He had a lot of other work to do. They wouldn’t miss him.
3
The truth about the orphanage was that there was no time to lose. The weight of Armin’s responsibility pressed down on his shoulders every moment of every day, and a big part of that was knowing that the building wasn’t up to par.
The structure had been slowly crumbling for years, but while it had been a real concern, it simply hadn’t been a priority. Then Armin suddenly became a father, taking Lily and Seraphine into his own home when their parents had died, and his sensitivity toward anything involving orphans shot through the roof. Their father had been Armin’s friend from university, a man named Baxter. He’d always been delighted that Lily looked exactly like him and Seraphine looked like his wife, Jessica. They’d been a happy family, with a comfortable life. Then Baxter and Jessica were gone, and the girls had watched their whole world fall apart in an instant. Armin had been able to give them a home, but what about dozens of others like them who faced the same losses? Armin couldn’t take in every orphan in the country.
He also couldn’t bear the thought of Lily and Seraphine or anyone like them going to a place like the Stolvenian National Orphanage in its current state. He had to fix it, whether Alexei wanted to work with him or not.
So Armin had gone directly to the next three available developers within fifty miles of Whitestone.
He’d gathered them in his private meeting room, and the three men sat listening to him explain things that shouldn’t need explanation.
“It’s essential that we begin work on this project as soon as possible. The original building was my grandmother’s answer to the devastation of World War II, so it’s a family legacy that I insist on upholding. And this country, frankly, needs a symbol of unity.”
One of the men cleared his throat. “Unity, Prince Armin?”
How should he phrase this? “With so many changes happening and privatization on the rise, we need to give all of Stolvenia a symbol to rally around. Something we can all agree on as a people.”
All three of the men nodded their agreement.