Chapter three - Taking chances
1102 Words
(Evie’s POV)
“How do... do you have my number?” I stutter.
A pause. Then a low chuckle, dark velvet through the line. “Does it matter?”
“Yes, it matters,” I snap, trying to add strength to my voice. “You can’t just...”
“Evie.” The way he says my name… firm and commanding. “An address will be sent to you. Tomorrow morning. Come at ten.”
“What? Wait...”
The line goes dead. I pull the phone away, staring at the black screen in disbelief. No explanation, no goodbye. Just like that.
Damien Thorne. The man from the gala. The man who stripped me bare with his eyes yesterday.
I quickly google him. And instantly regret it.
Several articles cover my screen. *Damien Thorne, billionaire CEO of Thorne group*. One of the most powerful men in New York. Ruthless and untouchable.
I knew he had to be a very important person to be at the gala, but billionaire?
My stomach knots as I scroll through pictures of him looking impossibly hot in different impeccable suits for financial magazines. He's undoubtedly a powerful man.
But then I freeze. A photo of him with Jenny, the little girl from under the table.
My breath catches.
The job. The “nanny” position.
It’s must be for her.
I click another link, A blog post about the car accident that claimed her mother’s life. Jenny survived, but she was barely mentioned. No pictures, no public exposure, except this one. My chest tightens.
Her sweet shy smile when my “magical” hairpin worked flashes through my mind.
She’s the only reason I’m even considering this.
I lean back, pressing a hand to my head. I’m not qualified for this. I’m no nanny. And yet, Jenny’s face is all I can see.
And I can’t pretend that doesn’t matter.
My rent notice sits crumpled on the coffee table, glaring at me. My fridge is nearly empty. My pride tells me to refuse, after all I've never worked as a nanny, but my reality tells me I’d be a fool not to go.
And damn it, part of me wants to see him again.
I slam the laptop shut. “You’re insane, Evie.”
But the decision’s already made. I’m going.
******
The next morning, I dress up modestly, my hair is packed into a neat chignon, I let a few tendrils fall around my face. My blouse is tucked into a fitted skirt that hugs my hips. I pause at the mirror, my eyes lingering on the curve of my waist and chest.
I look put together, presentable, and maybe a little too aware of my curves. I slip on my kitten heels, and give myself one last look before heading out.
I take the subway as far as I can, then walk. Every cab fare I save means one more day I can eat.
But halfway towards the grand mansion, the sky opens up. From a little drizzle to a heavy downpour.
“Oh, no, no…” I mutter. I'm soaked within seconds. My blouse clings to my skin, I can barely walk in my drenched clothes and my shoes hold water.
There’s no shelter in sight, but the mansion isn’t far. I start to run, muttering curses under my breath.
A sleek black car pulls up in front of me. The tinted glass slides down, and my breath stops.
It's Damien. Looking sinfully handsome in a coffee brown suit.
His dark eyes lock with mine.
“Get in,” he orders. Not a suggestion.
“I...I can walk, I don't want to drench your car” I stammer, embarrassed.
His gaze flicks over me, slow, deliberate, making my entire body warm up “Evie,” he says, voice dropping an octave. “Get. In.”
I nod and obey, before sliding into the leather seat beside him.
******
(Damien’s POV)
She enters the car, dripping water onto the leather like a soaked kitten.
Her damp hair clings to her flushed cheeks, her lips part slightly like she's trying to catch her breathe.
She tugs at her blouse, but it's pointless, the rain has made it transparent.
I should look away. But I don’t. My gaze lingers on the lace of her bra, the swell of her full breasts rising with every nervous inhale.
Heat surges low in my body. She looks even more tempting like this, in her vulnerable, disheveled state, than when she was bold and teasing at the gala. That night, she’d played a game. Now, she doesn’t even realize she’s playing at all.
She catches me staring and blush floods her cheeks..
“Good morning, Mr. Thorne,” she says softly. “I’m… sorry I’m a little late. The rain...”
I can't help but wonder how she's gone from the confident seductress at the gala to this shy woman and somehow, that’s worse. Because I want her more like this, she doesn’t even realize the power she has.
“You should have left earlier.” My tone is colder than I intend. But I remind myself this is business. For Jenny, not for my desire.
Her head snaps up. For a second, I expect her to apologize again but her chin lifts instead, defiance in her beautiful green eyes. “Not all of us have drivers on call,” she snaps back.
My mouth twitches before I can stop it. She has claws and she has no idea how much that excites me.
The car glides through the gates of my estate, she stares out the window wide eyes like she’s stepped into another world, she doesn’t hide her awe.
When the car stops, I step out first, offering her no hand, though part of me aches to touch her. Eric quickly come to me with an umbrella.
She follows me into the grand building, walking confidently as if she's not drenched from head to toe.
And then...
“Evie!”
Jenny’s small voice rings out. She runs down the staircase, clutching a ridiculous stuffed bunny she calls *Button*, in her arms. She runs straight into Evie’s legs, hugging her like she’s been waiting forever.
Evie gasps, and crouches wrapping Jenny up in her arms. Jenny smiles, clinging to her like she’s found something precious.
The sight slams into me like punch.
Jenny has never welcomed anyone like that, except me. Not her caretakers, not tutors. Not even family friends.
And Evie… she doesn’t look like a stranger, She looks like she belongs, in my house with my daughter.
Damn it.
- Writer
