Baby for the Billionaire - By Maxine Sullivan Page 0,76
convince them the two of you deserve time to settle into connubial bliss. But that’s as far as I’ll be able to push it. You need to marry now in order for me to insist on any sort of further delay. And then you need to create a loving relationship that’s good enough to pass Mrs. Locke’s scrutiny.”
Jack closed his eyes and ran a hand along the nape of his neck. Damn it to hell. “I’ll try.”
“I suggest you do more than try.”
Jack spent the rest of the day considering and rejecting any number of arguments to present to Annalise, everything from a declaration of undying love—which would leave her laughing herself silly—to the unvarnished truth, which he feared would not only leave him without a bride but without a nanny, as well.
Still … What choice did he have? He couldn’t lie to her. He slanted her a calculating look as they put Isabella down for the night. He needed to find a way to convince his nanny to agree to a coldly logical, if highly offensive, proposal of marriage. But, how?
There was only one way. He’d tell her the truth and hope she’d been serious when she had claimed she’d do everything in her power to help Isabella. “We need to talk,” he informed her, as soon as they finished tucking in his niece.
Annalise regarded him with a worried frown. “Is something wrong?”
He waited until they’d returned to the living room before explaining. “According to my lawyer, I need to marry immediately in order to retain custody of Isabella.”
She stared in shock. “Oh, Jack, is he certain?”
“Very.” He gave it to her straight. “Derek’s held endless conversations with Mrs. Locke and various officials at CPS. Though they haven’t come right out and said I must have a wife, they’re extremely concerned that between my work schedule and Isabella’s issues I’m not the best person to raise her. There’s even been some discussion about placing her in a treatment facility. I won’t let that happen, which means I present them with an acceptable wife who can give Isabella the attention she requires when I’m not available.”
Annalise stared at him, stunned. “But … who are you going to marry? Does Isabella know her? Does she even like her?”
“She adores her.”
That brought her up short. “Oh. Well … Well, that’s good. I don’t quite know what else to say,” she added weakly. “Congratulations?”
“She hasn’t accepted my offer yet.”
Annalise stilled. “Wait a minute. Is this your way of telling me you no longer need my services?” A look of utter devastation swept across her face. “Is your wife—assuming she accepts your offer—is she going to take care of Isabella full-time?”
“Yes and no. I still need your services.” Jack captured an escaped curl, one that tumbled halfway down Annalise’s back, and used it to reel her in. “Just in a slightly different capacity. I hope you’ll consider it a promotion.”
She was quick to put two and two together and come up with the requisite four. He watched shock etch a path across her elegant features. “You don’t mean … You can’t possibly think I—”
“Oh, but I can and I do. Ms. Stefano, I would very much appreciate it if you’d consider exchanging your position as nanny for one as my wife.”
The couch caught her as her knees gave out. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m dead serious. You may recall that I once told you that I’d do whatever it took to retain custody of Isabella. I also seem to remember you saying something quite similar. I know how serious I was when I made that statement. How serious were you?”
Pain burst to life in her eyes, burning with an intensity that seared straight through to his soul. He accepted it, didn’t attempt to defend against it. He deserved to burn for what he was about to do. And no doubt he would.
“Oh, Jack,” she whispered. “How could you?”
He captured Annalise’s hands in his and drew her to her feet again. “As I’ve informed you more than once, I will do whatever it takes to retain custody of Isabella. But I will also do whatever you ask, give you whatever you demand, in exchange for your agreement to my plan. Please, Annalise. Marry me.”
“No.” She shook her head, the restlessness of her curls revealing the extent of her distress. “I can’t. Anything but that.”
“You’re not already married?” Surely the PI would have uncovered evidence of a husband.