Read The Billionaire's Nanny: A BWWM Romantic Comedy for Free Online

the wizard told him to let me in because he unlocks the gate without a word and it slides open to allow me through. I want to ask him where I should go, where I should park, but he’s not even looking up, so I just drive forward. I think I’m doing okay for brains, heart, and courage, but that wizard is welcome to give me some cash.
    I pull onto a pad where far nicer cars are parked. I’m really bringing down the value of the real estate here. As I get out, I can see my reflection in my back windows. I look like a crazy person. No wonder the guard was skeptical. My hair is in wild wisps around my face, every strand dusted with light dirt When I take off my sunglasses, I can see the clean patches around my eyes, the rest of my face filthy. I look like an extra from Oliver . Not much to be done now. I ring the front bell and hear a deep ding-dong within.
    I’m expecting a butler in a full tux or at least a maid in a black dress and white apron, so I’m surprised when Corbin opens the door.
    “Vanessa! I’m glad you’re here,” He takes me in and chuckles. “Did you get here in an open boxcar?”
    “I wish. No, my car broke down and the nice man that got it going again told me not to use the a/c. It’s, uh, dusty out there.”
    “I should have sent a car for you. I’m sorry, I didn’t think.” He looks genuinely mad at himself.
    “How could you know I drive a heap? I seldom drive at all because I live right in town. Even I didn’t know what shape it was in. It’s fine. I’m just grubby now, is all.”
    He ushers me in, saying, “Maeve is napping. Why don’t you take a shower? I’ll give you something to wear and ask Connie to wash your clothes.” He smiles, “Wouldn’t want Maeve chewing on your hair with all that road dust in it.”
    It feels really weird to say I’ll take a shower in this man’s house, but he’s right. I’m way too dirty to take care of a baby, so I agree and follow him up the grand, sweeping staircase. I want to take pictures so I can send them to Asia. What if he throws me out when he realizes I know nothing about babies? I at least want photographic evidence that I was here. But I leave my phone in my bag.
    He opens a set of double doors into a bedroom that looks like something from a decorating magazine. Everything is perfectly harmonious: no weird gifts from friends on vacation, no ratty stuffed animals from childhood, no storage bins from a Target end cap clearance. It looks like everything in the room was purchased at once, put in place, and never touched again. It’s as big as my whole apartment.
    “The bathroom is there to the side of this guest suite,” Corbin says. “Just leave your things on the bench, and Connie will come in to leave you fresh clothes and collect your dirty ones. When you’re done, just text me.” He seems weirdly nervous as he steps back to the doorway. “Okay, uh, happy showering!”
    “Thanks,” I say as he closes the door behind him.
    I look around the room. No photos. No seashells from the beach. It’s weird. It’s like a hotel room, where you can just stay for a bit and then go, leaving no impression and having no impression made on you. I take out my phone and take a couple pictures. One of the huge four poster bed with a dozen throw pillows, each in a different pattern with the same grey and white color scheme. I take a photo of the dressing table, low with a big mirror. Like something a movie star in an old movie would use. It has an old-fashioned crystal perfume bottle, the kind with a little fabric bulb hanging off of it. The fabric, of course, matches the bed linens.
    There’s a knock at the door. Oh yeah, I’m supposed to be in the shower. “Give me two minutes, please!” I shout, shucking off my clothes and laying them on the bench. I grab my phone and duck into the bathroom and close the door.
    Holy crap.
    So, this bathroom–in tasteful shades of grey, of course–is as big as my living room. Probably bigger. There is