Baby for the Billionaire - By Maxine Sullivan Page 0,53
free.”
“How did you gain custody of Isabella? Did your sister request you as guardian in her will?”
“It would have simplified matters if she had. Unfortunately, she didn’t.”
“So, you simply took your niece in? There was no one else?”
Anger flashed through him. He planted his fists on his hips and faced her down. “You say that as though you don’t consider me an appropriate guardian.”
She hesitated. “That’s not the word I’d use. You have a … a magnificent home. You’re a successful businessman. You’re well-intentioned—”
“But?”
She frowned. “Weren’t there any other family members willing to take her? Someone who has more time to devote to her care?”
“No. Paul has a sister. She flat out refused.”
“Flat out? But, why?”
“Because Isabella isn’t blood kin. Joanne and Paul adopted Isabella when she was only a few days old. For some reason, that let Paul’s sister off the hook.”
“And put you on it?” Annalise had adopted an expressionless mask again. But he’d begun to realize that the less emotion she showed, the more she felt. “Is that why you took her in? Because no one else stepped up?”
He gave her the look that would have most men in his rarified world trembling in their Berluti loafers. “Ms. Stefano, I hired you as Isabella’s nanny, not as my personal pop psychologist. My reasons for assuming guardianship of Isabella have nothing to do with you or the job you are to perform. A job for which I’m paying you quite a lot of money.”
To his amazement, she didn’t back down. In fact, she took a step closer. “Have I hit a hot button, Mr. Mason? Did you feel obligated to take her in? Are you protecting your image? Concerned with media scrutiny? Is that why Isabella’s here, so your personal and business image don’t take a hit?”
Fury vied with a primal awareness, one with a raw, sexual edge. Or perhaps the fury exacerbated the awareness he’d experienced the first moment he’d set eyes on her. “You are walking a very thin line, Ms. Stefano. If I had anyone who could take your place, I’d fire you on the spot.”
“For asking tough questions? Or do my questions hit a little too close to home?”
Her questions were identical to those Mrs. Locke had asked. That alone gave him pause. He was a private man who kept his personal life as far from the high beams of the media headlights as possible. He also kept his emotions under tight control, even tighter than Annalise did. Another lesson he’d learned at his father’s knee. As much as he hated the idea, he needed this woman. Isabella needed her. She might be the only person capable of keeping his tiny family intact.
He forced himself to answer her. “Other than Paul, Isabella was the most important person in my sister’s life.” He swallowed past the tightness constricting his words. “At one point, Joanne was the most important person in mine. Isabella is part of my sister, all that’s left of her. My niece is hurting and I have no idea how to help her.”
The anger drained out of Annalise. “You hired me to take care of Isabella. And that’s what I intend to do.” She gestured in the general direction of his niece’s bedroom. “Tell me something, do you think that overstuffed toy factory you call a bedroom is in her best interest?”
What the hell was she talking about now? “It’s the smallest of the bedrooms. She chose it herself.”
Annalise’s breath escaped in a quiet sigh. “The issue isn’t the square footage of her room. I couldn’t even say what size it is because it’s stuffed to the rafters with toys and games.”
“I’m just trying to create a home for her.”
“By buying her things. That’s not how you create a home. Isabella doesn’t need things. She needs love and attention.”
“I’m doing the best I can.” He hated the gritty quality that climbed into his voice.
Annalise took note and a softness slipped into her voice. “Your niece doesn’t need more stimulation, Jack. She needs less.”
For some reason, her use of his first name had a devastating effect. He forced himself to listen to Annalise’s words, when what he really wanted to do was yank her closer and see if all that passion would spill over into their embrace. Would spill onto him. She gave so generously of herself to a little girl she didn’t even know. How would it feel to have some of that emotion directed at him?