KHALL
Khall stared at the new nanny, feeling completely blown away.
She was so beautiful that it almost hurt to look at her, so beautiful it made him angry.
Before he really had time to process any of it, a piercing scream warned him of the imminent arrival of Bo.
That was probably a blessing in disguise. She needed a new nanny a lot more than he needed a hard-on for a young girl.
Sure enough, his high-spirited daughter pounded into the room, her face streaked in tears and purple paint.
“What’s wrong?” he asked Bo, not kneeling down or talking to her in that condescending, too-sweet voice people always used on little kids.
Bo’s little eyebrows were pinched, and he half-expected steam to come out of her ears.
“There’s no more purple paint,” Bo growled.
“Probably because you’re wearing most of it,” he pointed out.
That only got him a fresh bout of furious sobbing.
Classic Bo. She had a temper on her, just like her daddy. Secretly, he felt a little hurt every time she was labeled a problem. She was just like him.
But honest anger wasn’t accepted from little girls the way it was for boys and men. At least it wasn’t accepted by pre-schools and nannies.
When she grew up, his money would insulate her from other people’s judgment.
Until then, he hoped the exquisitely beautiful new nanny had a high tolerance to tantrums. She looked like a damned holo-film princess, so hopefully her temperament matched.
“Maybe you’re not really out,” the nanny said to Bo, in a low, calm voice. “Let’s go look.”
“I am out,” Bo insisted. “I am.”
“Show me,” the new girl said.
Bo stomped off toward her room and the girl followed, her lush golden curls glimmering in the last light of the two setting suns.
This was exactly the kind of job a nanny should handle, but somehow, Khall found himself trailing after the two of them.
Bo’s room took up one corner of the flat. It was spacious and filled with warm light.
It was also incredibly messy. Khall couldn’t resist bringing her home lavish gifts from all over the system each time he came home from a run. The poor kid had to grow up without a mother, and with her dad gone all the time. A few extra toys wouldn’t spoil her.
But she wasn’t great about putting them away, and he had to choose his battles.
She was already sitting at her art table, showing her paints to the nanny.
“No. More. Purple,” she said, slamming the empty purple container on the table with each word.
“Maybe not in that container,” the girl said calmly. “But look, you’ve got these.”
She pulled out red and blue from the box.
“That’s red paint and blue paint,” Bo yelled. “I don’t want red and blue. I’m painting grass. I want purple.”
To her credit, the nanny didn’t try to argue about the purple grass. She simply nodded once in a businesslike way, put her duffel bag on the floor, and began mixing the paints.
Khall noticed that she moved very slowly and deliberately. Her measured pace was almost hypnotic. Even though he knew what the two paints would create, he still found himself leaning forward with bated breath.