A BEAUTIFUL TRAP
1692 Words
Wait. What?
The word echoed around my ears, dancing like a loose bullet.
Nanny?
Serge Sterling had to be kidding , he didn't blackmail me with that video, ship my husband off to some godforsaken training facility upstate, and drag me to his glass tower just to make me change diapers?
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. my tongue feeling like a dry piece of wood.
I stood frozen in the entryway, fingers gripping the strap of my cheap duffel bag so tightly the canvas was digging into my palm.
I wanted to turn around.
I wanted to run straight back to the elevator, hit the ground floor, and sprint all the way back to my cramped kitchen.
But I couldn't.
The weight of Serge's fingers was still burning against my jaw and that image of me naked and pinned against a door was still playing into the back of my eyelids.
If I walked out those doors, my marriage was dead by noon.
“I... yes. Hello,” I finally managed to choke out. My voice sounded weak, completely stripped of the fire I had used on Serge just an hour ago.
“I'm Ava.”
Abby’s smile widened, her deep ocean blue eyes lighting up with genuine warmth.
She didn't look like a threat but she looked like a woman who had never experienced a cold day in her entire life.
She stepped closer, completely oblivious to the fact that my heart was performing a violent, frantic rhythm against my ribs.
“It is so wonderful to meet you, Ava,” she said softly, reaching out to touch my forearm.
Her fingers were warm. Too warm.
“Serge was so brief about the details. He just called and said he found someone perfect to help out around here. You look a bit tired from the trip, dear. Are you alright?”
“Fine. Just... a long morning,” I lied, forcing my lips to stretch into a pathetic smile.
Before she could question my disheveled clothes or my swollen,eyes, an older woman in a neat grey uniform rounded the corner from the hallway.
In her arms, she was holding a tiny, chubby cheeked baby boy. He couldn't have been more than eight months old.
He had a tuft of dark, unruly hair and huge, curious eyes that blinked at me with total innocence.
“Oh, look, Leo is awake,” Abby purred, turning to take the little boy into her arms.
She brought him right up to my face. “Say hello to Ava, sweetie. She’s going to be taking very good care of you from now on.”
The baby let out a tiny, soft gurgle, his small fist reaching out to blindly swat at the air near my chin.
A bizarre wave of heavy heat pooled deep in my lower belly, so sudden and intense it made me catch my breath.
I stared at the child, feeling completely sick and out of place.
This boy belonged to Serge. He carried the blood of the monster who was currently tearing my life apart but weirdly, he barely resembled him.
“He’s... he’s beautiful,” I whispered, and for some reason, the words felt like ash on my tongue.
“He really is,” Abby smiled, kissing the baby’s cheek before handing him back to the maid.
“Let’s get you settled, Ava. Marie will show you to your room. Take some time to freshen up and rest. We can talk about the schedule later.”
I nodded quietly, following the maid down a long, quiet hallway lined with original artwork that I couldn't even dream of affording.
The room they led me to was larger than my entire living room back home. It had a massive king sized bed covered in crisp, white linens and a private glass bathroom that overlooked the city skyline.
The second the door shut behind me, I dropped my duffel bag and collapsed onto the edge of the mattress.
My hands were shaking again. I buried my face in my palms, letting out a jagged, silent sob that had been trapped in my chest since I stepped out of the elevator.
Suddenly, vibration of my phone inside my pocket made me jump. I pulled it out, my eyes blurring as I looked at the caller ID.
Matthew.My thumb hovered over the screen. I wanted to ignore it. I wanted to throw the phone against the wall and scream. But if I didn't answer, he would worry.
He would call Leo. He would realize something was wrong.
sliding the bar, I answer.
“Hey,” I said, trying to force my voice into a casual, normal register.
“Ava? Oh, thank god,” Matthew’s voice came through the speaker.
“Are you okay? I'm so sorry, babe. Everything happened so fast. Mr.Sterling told me the training session upstate was starting today. They didn't even give me time to come home and say goodbye.”
“I know,” I whispered, gripping the phone until my knuckles turned white.
“Serge... Mr. Sterling came by the house. He told me.”
“He did? Wow, he really is hands on with his security staff,” Matthew muttered, letting out a nervous, breathless laugh.
“Listen, Ava, I hate this. I hate that I'm off the grid for the next few weeks. The reception up here is terrible, and they’re taking our personal phones away in an hour for the orientation. Are you going to be okay alone at the house?”
A heavy pain twisted in my chest.
He was checking in on me. He was worried about me being alone in our small peaceful home, completely blind to the fact that his precious boss had already locked me in too.
He didn't know his sweet wife was sitting in a billionaire’s penthouse, surrounded by luxury paid for with my own body
.And then there was the blood. The brown stains on his jeans that he hadn't told me.
“I'm fine, Matthew,” I lied, the words cutting my throat like paper
. “Don't worry about me. Just... do what you have to do. Be careful.”“I love you, Ava. I'm doing this for us. For our future,” he said, his voice dropping into that earnest tone that used to make me feel so safe.
Now, it just made me feel entirely sick. “I have to go. They’re calling my name next . I’ll call you the second I get my phone back.”
“I love you too,” I murmured back but the line had already cut off.
I dropped the phone onto the bed while staring at the ceiling.
My mind was spinning out of control. I felt a toxic sensation I couldn’t understand twisting in my gut whenever I thought about Abby downstairs with that baby.
I hated her. I hated how perfect she was, how sweet her voice sounded, and how she effortlessly held the title of Mrs. Sterling.
I didn't even know why I cared, but the thought of her being Serge's wife made me want to burn the whole building down.
I needed to clear my head. Stripping off my clothes, I walked into the bathroom and turned the shower on, letting the water run hot until the glass stall was completely thick with steam.
I stepped under the water, closing my eyes as the heat hit my sore shoulders, trying to wash away the smell of panic, the memory of Serge's hands.
I washed my hair, letting the soap cascade down my face, completely losing myself in the rushing water.
I couldn't stay here. I couldn't sit in this penthouse and be humiliated as a nanny while Serge played his sick little games with his perfect family.
I was going to find a way out. I was going to—
The glass door of the shower suddenly slid open, making me gasp as I snapped my eyes open, wiping the water from my vision, and choked on my own breath.
Serge.
He was standing there in the middle of my bathroom.
He had already taken off his suit jacket, his dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his tie completely gone.
His eyes were dark, tracking the lines of my wet, naked body through the steam with a heavy, hunger that made the air in the room suddenly clear. .
“What the f**k are you doing?!” I screamed, my voice echoing as I threw my arms over my chest, backing up until my back hit the glass wall of the shower.
“Get out! Get the hell out of here right now! Your wife is literally downstairs! She's going to notice you're up here!”
He didn't flinch. He didn't look guilty or even remotely startled by my screaming.
Instead, he just stood there, watching the water drip down my collarbone, before a low, deep chuckle rumbled in his chest.
He looked genuinely amused, a dark, wicked smirk slowly plastering itself across his sharp jawline.
“My wife?” he echoed, his voice grave and dripping with amusement.
. “Is that what she told you?”
“She said she was Mrs. Sterling!” I hissed, my chest heaving as I glared at him through my terror.
“Get out before she walks up those stairs, Serge!”
“Ava, don’t be an i***t,” he growled out, leaning his tall frame into the shower stall until his face was inches away from mine.
His breath mixed with the steam, now overwhelming my senses.
“Abby is my sister. She uses our mother's maiden name since her divorce. I don't have a wife. At least not yet.”
The words hit me like a physical shock wave.
Sister. She wasn't his wife.
A sudden rush of relief flooded through me, so intense it almost short circuited my brain.
Before I could even think straight, my hand flew out, gripping the front of his shirt.
I pulled myself forward, tilting my face up, and crashed my lips directly against his.
- Writer
