The Billionaire's Nanny

Chapter 9: The Phoenix Rising

The silk sheets caressed my skin as the golden hues of the autumn sunrise leaked through the window, casting a glowing warmth across the duvet. I stretched, the unfamiliar luxury of the room still catching me off guard, before swinging my legs over the side of the bed and stepping into my slippers.

The brushed cotton of my pink pyjamas swooshed as I headed into the en suite. I splashed my face with cold water and stared into the mirror – the events of yesterday playing through my mind like a film on loop. It felt surreal, like a dream I was destined to wake up from at any moment.

I didn’t have time to dwell. A sharp, rhythmic knock on the door shook me out of my thoughts.

I rubbed my eyes and pulled the door open. Standing in the doorway was Trevor – his intoxicating scent of bergamot and patchouli mixing with the desperately needed aroma of fresh, hot coffee.

"Good morning. I hope you slept well," he said, his voice a low, steady rumble. "I’ve brought you a coffee – decaf, of course. May we come in?"

We? I nodded and stepped aside, gratefully accepting the cup. I tried to hide my slight disappointment at the decaffeinated part; I needed all the strength I could get today.

As Trevor stepped into the room, I saw his entourage – a woman pushing a towering rack of designer clothing, another carrying a professional make-up case, and a man maneuvering a hair stylist’s trolley.

"Today is the first day of the new you, Freya," Trevor said, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips. "A new wardrobe and a new look are the perfect way to begin."

"I can’t afford any of this," I gasped, looking at the designer labels visible on the rack.

"Actually, you can, because it’s on me," he beamed. "From now on, every single thing you need is covered by me. Consider it part of a payment plan – you can't put a price on revenge, after all."

"I... right. Can I shower first?" I asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious in my wrinkled pyjamas.

"Of course. We’ll start on your wardrobe whilst you do."

"Please," I added, my voice small, "don’t throw anything out without asking me." Some of those worn-out items held the only memories I had.

"Of course. I’ll leave a discard pile on the bed – you’re welcome to check it over and put it away for safe keeping. But the new items belong to you now. Even after our arrangement ends, you won't need the old ones again." He spoke with a clinical, matter-of-fact tone. I should have felt grateful, yet a part of me felt that the "old" Freya should have been enough. But then, for Jacob, I had never been enough.

I headed into the bathroom and clicked the door shut. I switched on the shower, watching as the steam filled the room like a thick cloud, condensation blurring the mirrors. I stepped into the marble enclosure, the hot water feeling soothing – healing, even – against my skin. It felt as though it were washing away the last lingering traces of Jacob’s touch.

I browsed the toiletries Trevor had placed on the shelf - salon-grade bottles and designer fragrances. I settled on a combination of black rose and ambergris, with an underlying hint of jasmine and oud. It was a strong, sensual scent. I breathed it in deeply. It made me feel confident, sharp – like phoenix rising from the ashes, finally ready to bring down everyone who had ever hurt her.

I switched off the water and stepped out. Hanging on the back of the door was a tailored cream suit with a blush-pink silk blouse and a gold belt. I pulled it on, taking in my reflection. I looked like a stranger – a powerful, untouchable stranger.

I spritzed the matching perfume onto my pulse points, took one final look at the woman in the glass, and walked back into the bedroom.

Trevor paused the moment he saw me. His eyes widened, a look of raw, unfamiliar intensity flaring in them before he masked it with his usual composure.

On the bed, almost every item I’d brought with me had been relegated to the discard pile. A stylist was currently sifting through my modest jewellery box – the cheap earrings from the market, my wedding ring, and the locket. She reached for the silver chain, and my heart lurched.

"No!" I almost shouted. She jumped, startled. I snatched the locket from the bed. "Not that. Touch anything you want, but not that."

Trevor stepped towards me, his presence eclipsing the room. He gently took the locket from my trembling hands. "This stays," he said softly.

He stepped behind me, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin of my neck as he moved my hair out of the way. The warmth of his touch made my breath hitch. He draped the silver chain around my neck and clicked the clasp into place.

"It’s the only thing you have from before you were abandoned, isn’t it Freya?" he whispered.

I could only nod softly in response. The closeness made my head spin. I had to remind myself, right then and there, that this was all a facade. No matter how he looked at me, no matter how protective he felt, this was a business contract. Nothing more.

"Come," he said, taking my arm and leading me to the lounge. “It's time for your pamper session.”

Walking into the lounge was like walking into a spa. The beautician had set up a lounger, a foot spa, a make up station and a nail bar. The stylist had set up his hair tools and products and along the back wall the racks of clothes filled the entire space.

“Take one last look at Freya Miller because when they are done you will be looking at Freya Stone” Trevor grinned.