Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Olivia? “I didn’t know you had a third child.”
“I didn’t either.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll add an additional forty percent to your weekly payment for as long as she’s with me. Any questions or concerns?”
He left my room before I could answer.
His staff clearly takes after him.
I quickly showered and dressed for my first big day.
Carrying my binder into the kitchen, I flipped to the bottle-making section and followed the instructions to the letter.
As I measured the vitamin drops, a girl who looked about eight years old walked past the breakfast bar.
Donning a plaid green skirt and black blazer, she looked as unhappy as I did about being awake at this hour.
“Good morning, Olivia.” I smiled, and she looked over at me. “That’s your name, right?”
“Yes, and don’t tell me yours.” She picked up a satchel. “You suck ass, and you won’t last.”
Okay, then. “Your dad says I need to get you out of here by six fifteen.”
“He’s my uncle.”
“My apologies. Would you like to go a little earlier today?”
She stared at me.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I headed to the door. “Let’s go.”
“You need to get the twins ready first,” she said, looking alarmed. “You weren’t about to leave them here alone, were you?”
“Of course not!” I couldn’t believe I was about to do that.
“I would never.” I picked up the bottles. “Can you tell me where their room is? I forgot already.”
“I’ll be downstairs in the car,” she said. “Mr. Michael is a stickler for leaving on time.”
She walked away, and I rushed down the hall, opening door after door, searching for the nursery, wondering why I hadn’t asked the rude manager about this earlier.
“Why are there so many rooms?” I nearly screamed. “Where the hell is it?”
A faint cry sounded from the other side of the condo, and I raced toward it.
My jaw dropped at the colossal size of the nursery. With its pretty sky walls and hot air balloon theme, it made my new room look like a pantry closet.
I walked over to the crib and scooped up the crying baby boy.
“It’s okay, William,” I said. “We’re about to go for a nice long ride to take Olivia to school.”
He wailed louder.
“One second, one second.” His diaper was heavy, so I carried him to a changing table.
When I untucked the folds, dark green poop awaited me.
I held back a gag and wiped him clean, giving him a brand-new one.
I looked around for the trash bin, but there wasn’t one. Only a basket marked “To be washed by hand daily.”
I refused to believe a man worth over a billion dollars would reuse diaper cloths.
After he drank his bottle, his little sister cried out.
It was already 6:10, so I scooped her into my arms with William and took the elevator downstairs.
The waiting town car driver stared at me in shock.
“Good morning!” I said. “Hopefully we made it right on time.”
“Where are the twins’ daytime clothes, Miss?” He glared at me. “Surely you don’t expect them to go out in their pajamas.”
“They’re babies.”
“They’re babies that have a professional photo session with Baby Vogue today.” He rolled his eyes. “They can’t just…Just get inside the car, Miss.”
I obliged and set them in their matching car seats.
Olivia pressed her face against the window, mumbling to herself.
As the driver pulled onto the street, he handed me a cell phone.
“I apologize for my tone, Miss,” he said. “I didn’t realize you didn’t receive the twins’ cell phone last night.”
“Their father will FaceTime them in between meetings, and you’ll use it to keep up with their busy schedules. You’ll also need to log everything you do into the ‘DawsonTeam’ app so that the rest of Mr. Dawson’s staff can stay on top of things.”
“Thank you.” I smiled, grateful that at least one of my coworkers wasn’t a jerk. “How many staff members does Mr. Dawson have?”
“For his home life it’s fifty-two,” Olivia said. “For his professional life, it’s eighty-seven, but that doesn’t include the hundreds that work for the Brooklyn Jets.” She finally looked at me. “You’re not included in any of those numbers, though.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can already tell that you won’t last longer than a week.”
As if the driver agreed with her assessment, he turned up the radio, and we rode the rest of the way to her academy without any conversation.
NINE
PIERCE
“Boooo! Boooo!” Jeers greeted me as I parked my McLaren in front of the arena. “Sell the team! Sell. The. Team!”
I rolled down my window so I could hear the Jets fans’ taunts even clearer, so I could accept that I was finally able to work outside my condo again.
Even from my days of being a player, I remembered The Brooklyn Jets fans being the most irrational and passionate fanbase in the league. They didn’t care that their brand-new owner vowed to do a much better job with their team this year; they were used to broken promises.