Protecting Her Heart: A Lesbian Billionaire And Her Nanny Romance Read online

  Protecting Her Heart

  A Billionaire Lesbian And Her Nanny Romance

  Berri Fox

  Its Her Books

  Copyright © 2019 by It’s Her Books

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Contents

  Description

  1. Rachel

  2. Tiffany

  3. Rachel

  4. Tiffany

  5. Rachel

  6. Tiffany

  7. Rachel

  8. Tiffany

  9. Rachel

  10. Tiffany

  11. Rachel

  12. Tiffany

  13. Rachel

  14. Tiffany

  15. Rachel

  16. Tiffany

  17. Rachel

  18. Tiffany

  19. Rachel

  20. Tiffany

  21. Rachel

  Description

  She saved my daughter... and stole my heart.

  Rachel needed a job. I needed a nanny.

  It was weird at first.

  I mean, did I mention that I was also foreclosing on her business?

  Yeah...weird.

  I tried to ignore our attraction.

  Now...even my little girl doesn’t want me to resist her.

  My daughter wants a second mommy

  I can see us as a family.

  She's in my every thought.

  But I can’t put Rachel in danger.

  Someone is threatening me.

  They want revenge.

  I have to find a way to protect her.

  They'll use her to get to me.

  If this beautiful angel can see I have a soul, it might be in time to save mine… if we all survive.

  Author’s Note: This romance contains steamy scenes.

  One

  Rachel

  It’s late by the time I get up to my apartment. Being the sole owner of a business, even one as small as the Cozy Nook, is draining. I’ve got to get everything cleared up for opening the next day before I can even think about going home, so it has to be about 9pm by the time I’m curled up on my tiny sofa with a cup of coffee and my paperwork.

  I had barely graduated my business degree when my beloved Aunt died and left me the bookstore. Being a bookstore owner wasn’t exactly my lifelong dream, but Aunt Joyce was the one who really gave me a sense of family growing up and I was never going to let her memory die.

  So here I am. Owner of a bookstore that doubles as a late night kink club. Inheritor of so much debt that we can’t make ends meet each month.

  At least I have the apartment that came with it. I keep planning to redecorate, but every time I pull out a book of paint chips or start googling new curtains I can’t help feeling that if the apartment looks any different it won’t feel like my Aunt is right here with me anymore. Her cushions lend the place a sort of hominess, and if I feel grim then looking at the wallpaper I grew up with can make me feel happier.

  Ever since I took the Cozy Nook over, I’ve been determined to make it into a place that my aunt would be proud of and that would make others feel as safe as she made me feel. It’s LGBTQ-friendly and I’ve got a great staff who need the jobs and who support me with making the shop as inclusive and welcoming as we can.

  The problem is that being welcoming doesn’t pay the bills, and Aunty sure left me a lot of those. Even the bondage events we run in the evenings aren’t covering the backlog of debt that we’re having to deal with.

  I rub my eyes and set the pile of papers aside. I can’t look at numbers any further or I’m going to scream. Instead I pull my coffee closer and start opening my mail, maybe I’ll be lucky and some mysterious benefactor will have sent me an offer of patronage.

  Bill. Bill. Newsletter. Letter from Lucille about her honeymoon. Bill. Wait, what’s this?

  I unfold the official looking paper and see that it’s a notice from the company that holds my mortgage. There’s a lot of legalese, but I can just about make out what it’s saying. Wake Developments have been buying up all the businesses around this area and it seems like there’s plans for making a super mall.

  Now Wake Developments has bought my mortgage.

  If I don’t pay off all our debt in a month, then they’re going to foreclose on me and they’re going to take everything. A cold chill of fear and anger rushes through me at the thought of all the small businesses that these people have already shut down.

  There was a tiny flower shop run by the sweetest old man who opened it after his wife died so he could surround himself with her favorite flowers and pass on the love and happiness that gave him. There was a coffee shop that an angry Polish woman ran and we’d gotten to the point where I could go in and we’d exchange curses in several languages and she’d give me double the pastries I’d paid for. There was an art gallery full of strange and wonderful paintings run by a handful of kids barely out of their teens.

  They’re all gone.

  Now they’re coming after me.

  They’re going to close my shop, take away my aunt’s heritage and make my workers jobless. How dare they? I can’t believe anyone would be so cruel but I’ve already seen it happening. Just to make money.

  I pull out my phone and dial Cody’s number. She answers after three rings sounding muffled and out of breath. “Bad time?” I ask dryly.

  “Not at all, how could you ask? Can you tell me what’s happening in three sentences or less as fast as possible?” There’s the sounds of a muffled voice in the background and I smother a laugh. Even though she’s constantly couch surfing, Cody gets more sex than anyone I know.

  “The Big Bad Corporate Machine is coming after our debts. I’ve got a lot of business talk to do. I hate it, and I hate everything.”

  “Sounds like you need to get laid,” Cody says, which is her solution for everything.

  “Sounds like I need to make more money is what it sounds like. Any tips for what I should wear to meet the capitalists?”

  “That nice shirt you have in the light gray, the dark gray jacket and your black jeans. Looks stylish but not like you’re trying to pander to them.”

  “Great. I’ll let you get back to your thing.”

  “Her name is Elsie!”

  “Goodbye, Cody.”

  I hang up, feeling a little better. Cody is the person I always go-to for style advice. I’m all right but I just don’t care enough lately to really put together an outfit with any kind of panache, and Cody can look phenomenal if she puts her mind to it.

  Tomorrow I’m going to go up to West Developments and I’m going to make them rethink their plans. They aren’t taking away from me what I’ve worked too hard to build up.

  I pull out a fresh notebook and start jotting down numbers, working the calculator on my phone overtime. I have to go in there with something, so it’s time for me to work out how long it really will take for us to turn this thing around.

  Maybe I’ll even convince myself that it’s possible.

  Two

  Tiffany

  My alarm goes off at 5 am, as it does every day. I have my morning routine down to an art. Yoga, shower, dress for the working day, make one of my smoothies, print out Anastasia’s daily routine and pin it to her activity board. I then get her clothes arranged and by that point it’s about 6:30 and time for my to sip my smoothie and go throug
h my work calendar to see what the day will be like.

  Running a billion dollar business like Wake Developments is hard at the best of times, and with the international conference coming up it seems like there’s no end to the things I need to arrange.

  My smoothie tastes sour this morning as I sit in the one early morning sunbeam that reaches our large dining table that we never ever use. I put more raspberries in it than honey and it makes my mouth pucker, but it would waste too much time to adjust so I gulp it down.

  My name is in the news again. That’s been happening a lot lately. Wake Developments Lays Off Thousands, Wake Developments Kicks Out Local Businesses for Super Mall, and so forth. I want to call every reporter who ever wrote one of those articles and ask them who their sources are.

  We’ve had to make some layoffs, yes. But not nearly as many as a thousand. And I paid a lot of money for those local businesses to move on to better things.

  But the big dog is always the bad guy in the press. I’m used to it. I’m just worried about what Anastasia will think.

  Today, for instance, Mr. Blackwell from the latest batch of layoffs has been telling the press that they were bullied out of the company instead of the very generous severance packages that we paid everyone. I’m sure they’d all be very glad if I would do something in character for the devil character they paint for me.

  “Mom!”

  It’s early for Anastasia to be awake. I hurriedly gulp down the rest of my smoothie and go up the stairs to check on her. I am getting her privately tutored at the moment because it feels too dangerous to put her in a public school with the media storm going on.

  This means that there’s always something to do at home just like at work and I don’t think I’ve ever been so terribly stressed in my life. Not even our nanny, Angie, can relieve the burden well enough for me to get space to breathe. I’m worried that Ana only plays with kids in the reading group that Anastasia takes her to.

  If only Anabelle was still alive. If only there was someone I could talk to about how hard everything is and how it feels like no matter how hard I work I can never catch up with everything that I need to do.

  I miss her every day.

  I remember how happy we were when she got pregnant, how hopeful she was for the family that we were building together. I remember the tired laughter when we had to figure out which of us was going to get up when Ana cried and how Belle refused to change diapers for three months straight.

  Life was good, life was the best it had ever been. Then one day she just fell down and didn’t get back up. Blood clot in her brain. She died before the ambulance even arrived.

  Anastasia was nearly two and I have been so lonely ever since. I love my daughter with all my heart but the only adult company I have left are my staff, and that’s not enough.

  I peek my head into Ana’s room and I can’t help smiling a little at her outraged face. She’s found the clothes I’ve set out from her and by the look of it her majesty does not approve. “Morning, honey.”

  “Mommy, this will not do,” she says firmly. “I am not wearing my pink skirt with this.”

  The item referred to with such disdain is a black t-shirt with a dragon on it. I pick it up solemnly and put it back in the dresser. “Okay, what do you want to pick out then?”

  “My princess top!”

  “We’re washing that, honey. You have to pick something else.”

  Out comes the pout and I have to stifle a giggle. Maybe I’m biased but I think my daughter is the cutest person on the earth. She starts rummaging through her dresser and the doorbell goes.

  “That will be Angie,” I say. “I’ll go let her in, hon.”

  Angie is a pretty good nanny. She’s small and red-haired and has a temper but that temper never comes out around Ana so it doesn’t cause a problem. She has a bad habit of name-dropping that she was friends with Tasha Clark, the up and coming artist. She also keeps insisting that I need to get laid.

  Sure, I’ll get laid. The moment I can find someone who isn’t just after my money, or that moment I realize that I can go on a date where I don’t spend every second thinking about Anabelle. Then I’ll get laid and be happy about it.

  It’s a common theme from my PA Jordan as well, bitching that I need to get laid, and I swear the next time one of them drops an ever so subtle hint that maybe I should get back out on the dating circuit, I’m going to fire someone. I check my phone and see the time.

  Fuck, I’m late.

  I let Angie in and cut through her latest story about her boyfriend. “I’ve got to run, Angie. Don’t forget the itinerary and see if you can help Ana find something close to the princess top for her outfit today, okay?”

  Angie looks a little annoyed but I don’t have time to care so I run to the staircase and shout my goodbyes before grabbing my things and hurrying out to my car. There really is no rest for the wicked. Even if they’re only wicked in the eyes of the media and a few disgruntled employees.

  Three

  Rachel

  I open up the shop for the day and take a deep breath. The sun is shining in through the windows, and I’m in my happy place surrounded by books.

  I try to hold onto that feeling as I get everything else ready. I know I’ll have to turn everything over to Candy, my new assistant, soon. I try to linger as long as possible, but I can’t keep Edna waiting.

  Eventually, I know I have to turn it over to Candy or I’ll be late. I tell her I’ll be back soon and head up the street to the tea shop.

  It’s a cute shop. I usually like going there. There’s quirky little kettles everywhere, and it smells amazing. Still, I can’t say that I love the reason why I’m here.

  Edna smiles when she sees me. I wave and sit down across from her.

  Edna is someone I met at my old apartment. She lives in an apartment that I used to be across the hall from. She’s an accountant, and I’m very appreciative that she’s doing me this favor.

  “Hello, Rachel,” she says as I sit down.

  “Hi, Edna. How are you?”

  “Oh, I’m doing quite well, thank you.” She’s always been so polite.

  “Should we get started?” I ask.

  “I see you’re quite eager, so I think we should,” she says with a little laugh.

  We start to go over my accounts. I have to admit, it doesn’t look great.

  “Do you think I’ll be able to pay off these debts in a month?” I ask.

  She pauses. “Well, you could, but I don’t think you’ll want to.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you fired your staff, these debts could be easily paid off.”

  I don’t even have to think about my answer.

  “Absolutely not,” I tell her.

  She gives me a little smile. “I thought you might say that. Unfortunately, your nobleness has no bearing on your debts.”

  It’s really not a noble instinct. I know that Abbie and Cody don’t do much for what I pay them. I just know that they rely on this work.

  It would be a betrayal to get rid of them. It just wouldn’t feel right.

  I know I have a responsibility to keep the shop open, but I also feel like I have a responsibility to them. I was really hoping the BDSM nights would help us with money.

  I’ll keep my employees on until the end. I can’t let them go.

  “What if we paid them off over six months?” I ask. “Could we keep everyone on them?”

  Edna ponders this thoughtfully. “I suppose that would make it easier. It would be tight, but I think you could do it. But darling, do you have six months?”

  I sigh. “I don’t think so. But maybe I could pitch it. They aren’t hurting for the money right now. Maybe they’ll be sympathetic.”

  As soon as I say it, I know they won’t be. Wake Developments isn’t exactly known for their sympathy.

  The head of Wake Developments is a woman named Tiffany Wake. Her reputation is well known.

  She doesn’t have a soft bo
ne in her body. She’s tough and cut-throat. I suppose that makes sense. Her business is really successful.

  Still, I couldn’t do that. My business may suffer for it, but I care too much about people.

  I think bitterly about what would happen to the bookstore if Tiffany Wake was in charge of it. She’d fire everyone and sell it to a big box store. She’d be laughing all the way to the bank.

  I don’t want that fate. I’d rather have the trust and respect of my employees. I’d rather be proud of how I conduct my business than have a big bank account.

  But maybe I do need a dose of that. A small voice in my head reminds me that I’ve let my bank account get a little too anemic lately. Something needs to change.

  Edna and I draw up a plan for how to approach this. I’m hoping that being straightforward will help. If Tiffany is as tough as people say she is, she may appreciate someone coming at her on that level.

  I plan to be honest. I can’t pay it now, but I do have a plan to pay that will work. I hope that’s enough to work. I hope she sees that I’m prepared and ready to combat this.

  Edna and I finish drafting my plan for Wake Development. She gives me a hug and wishes me luck before she heads back home.

  I feel a knot in the pit of my stomach as Edna leaves. Her leaving means it’s time to go down and beg Wake Development to take my offer.

  I head down there, getting more and more anxious as I go. I nervously run my hands through my hair and walk into the building.