Page 70 of The Desired Nanny
And the flowers.
“No problem. Have a good evening. Please send my regards to Daisy and Nori.”
“I will,” she confirmed as she corralled Grant away. I watched as husband and wife returned to their section and sneered when Grant’s hand smoothed down her back to her ass for a quick, discreet squeeze. They were greeted warmly by their siblings—all except for one, who glared at me through his bifocals. Initially, I made a great first impression on Kieran. He was bubbly and excitable, like a Golden Retriever, but something had shifted between the first meeting and now. His green eyes were filled with doubt, mistrust, apprehension, and finally… disdain. I’d have to keep my eye on the youngest Baker as well. The one thing I hated the most was someone fucking up a well-laid plan.
I threw a few bills on the table and left the restaurant. I waited patiently as the valet attendant retrieved my car, handed him a tip, and sat in the driver’s seat. I moved to close the door when it was caught. Grant leaned down and whispered, “Stay the fuck away from my family, or else you and your wife will be two fucking peas in a pod.”
Did he threaten me? Better question: Does he think I’ll let this slide?
“I see what you did there. It’s because my wife is a vegetable.” I chuckled darkly. “You’re cleverer than I imagined.”
“Consider yourself warned,” he quipped before slamming my car door.
* * *
After dismissing the nanny, I climbed the stairs to the second landing and made a pit stop at Pete’s room. I poked my head in and was grateful that he slept peacefully. I loved my son. He was the only thing I loved in this world, and I’d scorch the earth and punish whoever wronged him. He was the only good thing that came out of my godforsaken marriage.
I journeyed to my wife’s bedroom and felt a jolt of excitement as I entered the room that was filled with soft, rhythmic beeping from the heart monitor and the hissing sound of the ventilator. The night nurse rested her eyes in the armchair in the corner.
“Mrs. Costner?”
She jumped awake and deliriously gazed around the room as if trying to figure out where she was.
“Oh, Mr. Branson. You’re back.”
“I am. You can go home now.”
She glanced at me dubiously. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I can handle it from here.”
“Okay. As usual, I charted Mrs. Branson’s feeding and medications. I also changed her about an hour ago.”
“Wonderful. Have a good evening, Mrs. Costner.”
I sat in the armchair, still warmed by Mrs. Costner’s body heat, and stared at my wife for several hours. During that time, I was trying to find a single fuck to give about her debilitated state, but the fuck remained elusive.
“You know, you wouldn’t be in this dreadful predicament if you hadn’t tried to leave with my son. If you think aboutit, it’s your fault I ran you over. I’m not certain I believe in reincarnation, but I hope you make better choices if there’s a next life.”
I approached her bedside and marveled at how she reminded me of a female version of Frankenstein’s monster with all the scars from the stitches and staples used to piece her face back together. She used to be a beautiful woman, who any man would be proud to parade around on his arm, but her stupidity cost her her looks and her life.
“You will not be missed, my dear. I apologize. I misspoke. Pete will miss you, but he’ll forget all about you when his new mother arrives,” I whispered before disconnecting the hose that delivered oxygen to her.
I returned to the armchair while the monitor went haywire and unlocked my phone. I typed in the password to access my secret folder and groaned at the first picture that came up. I released my dick and stroked myself to the photo of Kiyah’s cum-filled pussy as my wife took her last dying breath in the background.
Chapter Twenty-One
Grant
“Governor Hopeful Thaddeus Branson Jr’s wife, Anna Branson, unfortunately, succumbed to her injuries inflicted by an unsolved hit-and-run late last night. Governor Hopeful Branson insists that a full investigation into Mrs. Branson’s death be conducted. He suspects that negligence by medical staff led to his wife’s tragic end-of-life.”
I rolled my eyes when Kiyah yanked down the blanket from over her head to tune into the local news report—neglecting my dick that had found refuge in her mouth. I reached for the remote on the nightstand because there was nothing to see, and I needed to nut.
Negligence by medical staff, my ass.
“What are you doing? Don’t turn it off,” Kiyah protested.
“Kiyah, if I wanted to see someone fake cry, then I’d watch a soap opera.”
