I clench my jaw as I stare at my late wife’s tombstone.
We could have had it all . . . but, we didn’t.
I lean down and brush the dust away from her name and rearrange the pink lilies that I have just placed in the vase. I touch her face on the small oval photo. She stares back at me, void of emotion.
Stepping back, I drop my hands in the pockets of my black overcoat.
I could stand here and stare at this headstone all day—sometimes I do—but I turn and walk to the car without looking back.
My Porsche.
Sure, I have money and two kids who love me. I’m at the top of my professional field, working as a judge. I have all the tools to be happy, but I’m not.
I’m barely surviving; holding on by a thread. Playing the facade to the world.
Dying inside.
Half an hour later, I arrive at Madison’s—my therapist.
I always leave here relaxed. I don’t have to talk, I don’t have to think, I don’t have to feel.
I walk through the front doors on autopilot.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Smith.” Hayley, the receptionist, smiles. “Your room is waiting, sir.”
“Thank you.” I frown, feeling like I need something more today. Something to take this edginess off. A distraction.
“I’ll have someone extra today, Hayley.”
“Of course, sir. Who would you like?”
I frown and take a moment to get it right. “Hmm. Hannah.”
“So, Hannah and Belinda?”
“Yes.”
“No problem, sir. Make yourself comfortable and they will be right up.”
I take the lift to the exclusive penthouse. Once there I make myself a scotch and stare out the smoked-glass window overlooking London. I hear the door click behind me, and I turn toward the sound. Hannah and Belinda stand before me, smiling. Belinda has long blonde hair, while Hannah is a brunette.
There’s no denying they’re both young and beautiful. “Hello, Mr. Smith,” they say in unison.
I sip my scotch as my eyes drink them in.
“Where would you like us, sir?”
I unbuckle my belt. “On your knees.”
Chapter 1
Brielle
Customs is ridiculously slow, and a man has been pulled into the office up ahead. It all looks very suspicious from my position at the back of the line. “What do you think he did?” I whisper as I crane my neck to spy the commotion up ahead.
“I don’t know, something stupid, probably,” Emerson replies. We shuffle toward the desk as the line moves a little quicker.
We’ve just arrived in London to begin our yearlong working holiday. I’m going to work for a judge as a nanny, while Emerson, my best friend, is working for an art auctioneer. I’m terrified, yet excited.
“I wish we had come a week earlier so we could have spent some time together,” Emerson says.
“Yeah, I know, but she needed me to start this week because she’s going away next week. I need to learn the kids’ routine.”
“Who leaves their kids alone for three days with a complete stranger?” Em frowns in disgust.
I shrug. “My new boss, apparently.”
“Well, at least I can come and stay with you next week. That’s a bonus.”
My position is residential, so my accommodation is secure. However, poor Emerson will be living with two strangers. She’s freaking out over it.
“Yeah, but I’m sneaking you in,” I say. “I don’t want it to look like we’re partying or anything.” I look around the airport. It’s busy, bustling, and I already feel so alive. Emerson and I are more than just young travelers.
Emerson is trying to find her purpose, and I’m running from a destructive past, one that involves me being in love with an adulterous prick.
I loved him. He just didn’t love me. Not enough, anyway. If he had, he would have kept it in his pants, and I wouldn’t be at Heathrow Airport feeling like I’m about to throw up.
I look down at myself and smooth the wrinkles from my dress. “She’s picking me up. Do I look okay?”
Emerson looks me up and down, smiling broadly. “You look exactly how a twenty-five-year-old nanny from Australia should.”
I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling stupidly. That was a good answer.
“So, what’s your boss’s name?” she asks.
I rustle around in my bag for my phone and scroll through the emails until I get to the one from the nanny agency. “Mrs. Julian Masters.”
Emerson nods. “And what’s her story again? I know you’ve told me before, but I’ve forgotten.”
“She’s a Supreme Court judge, widowed five years ago.”