RISK(48)

"You look like a cat that just ate a canary and enjoyed every last bite of it."

My head snaps up to see Crew standing in the doorway of my office. I've been here alone since early this morning.

I fell asleep once I got home from Ellie's, but then a soft touch on my shoulder woke me. It was May with tears in her eyes and a hand-drawn picture of Barney in her hands. My daughter isn't an artist although it's her goal to be one. That's the plan this week, so I bought her a package of markers and a sketch pad. Her mission before this was to be a farmer. That's why we visited a petting zoo an hour upstate. I'm all for her chasing her dreams, all of them.

My job as her dad is to make sure the route is safe while she does the exploring.

"What time is it?" I scrub my hand over my face. I didn't shave. I showered just before five this morning when May finally went back to bed.

"Time for me to break the bad news to you." He strolls into my office, stopping short of the chairs in front of my desk.

"What bad news?" I glance down at the screen of my phone. No Mayday messages have come in. It's a code Crew came up with for the three nannies I employ after May took a tumble and split her lip when she was a toddler. If they type it in a text, it means it's an emergency. If I don't respond, they contact Eda and Crew simultaneously.

It doesn't take the edge off the panic I feel whenever I see it or hear it, but it does convey the message that my daughter is in trouble in an inconspicuous way, regardless of who else is in the room.

Very few people know I have a child and her existence isn't fuel for public consumption. I don't want her picture online or her image sold to the highest bidder. The vague promise that was in the note left with May when she was an infant has kept me wary of letting anyone near her.

"You're f*cked." He chuckles as he takes a seat in one of the chairs. "You're royally f*cked, pal."

"In what sense?" I lean back into my chair.

He smirks. "In the sense that you have never, to my knowledge, told any woman about May. Yesterday I was here when you just put it all out there in front of Ellie."

I did do that, without a second thought. "I wanted her to know. I want her to know May."

"Since when did that become a good idea?"

Since I decided that I want her to see me in a way no other woman ever has and since I want my daughter to spend time with the most perfect example of a strong woman I know. Every other woman I have ever met is inferior to Ellie in every conceivable way. I can't deny that. I wouldn't try. "I like her, Crew. May will like her too."

"I get that." He taps his shoe against the floor. "What's going on between you two is new. It's early, Nolan. You need to wait for a beat before you take Ellie home to May."

I don't take offense. He loves May just as much as I do. To her, he's Captain Crew, her uncle. He's been there every step of the way, but she's my daughter. I get to call the shots. "When the time is right, I'll introduce them."

"There's no rush," he points out as he stands. "If this thing between you and Ellie has legs, you have all the time in the world to introduce the two of them. Pace it right, pal. Give it time. Think about what's best for May."

He's right. I know he is, but right now, after spending half my night with Ellie and the other half with my baby girl in my lap drawing pictures of our life together, all I want is for my daughter to meet the woman I can't get enough of.





Chapter 32


Ellie




"What's going to happen to all these pastries?" I sigh heavily. "What do you do with them?"

"I assume the cleaning crew takes care of it." Eda picks up a mini donut and pops it in her mouth. She chews rapidly. "I have no idea what they do with them."

I scan the large cloth covered table that was set up by the catering company hired to feed the Matiz executives who came to the meeting that just ended. I was required to sit in so I could listen to their individual concerns regarding security. One person brought up the fact that sensitive files are being emailed through the company's internal system. I'm not equipped to address that so Matiz's cyber security expert handled it.

I only had to speak once when a woman who runs the nail polish division had a question about the new protocol I put in place regarding self-samples. I told her that the reason I outlawed them is that too many customers were helping themselves to the sample bottles. When one went missing, the sales staff used to replace it immediately with a new bottle of polish. It wasn’t uncommon for the store to run through two or three bottles a day to replace those taken.

Now, when a customer wants to paint a fingernail to see if they're purchasing the right shade, the person working the polish counter does it for them and then places the sample bottle back behind the counter. If a customer does decide they like the color, the sales associate will hand them a bottle from the display case and then either ring their purchase in or direct them to the main check-out area which is only a few feet away. It's a very simple way to cut down on the theft of the polish but one that apparently no one thought of until now. Since Matiz polish ranges from twenty to thirty dollars a bottle, the savings is significant.

"Why do you ask, Ellie?" Nolan asks as he stalks toward me. "You can take as many as you like home. I know you have a sweet tooth."