Under My Boss's Authority: Office Romance Collection by Jamie Knight (small books to read .TXT) 📕

I had absolutely no fucking idea how to raise a kid. Let alone a little girl. Simone was always more of a mom to me than our actual mother, so I never really learned the whole nurturing thing.

I could have been in a real predicament, but Simone, who knew me better than anyone else on earth, also arranged for help. The resume that accompanied her last will and testament contained a picture. A gorgeous, twenty-three-year-old nanny named Becky Hump.

As I got in my limo, I smiled. Simone always did have a sense of humor.

A few hours later, I got to meet Miss Hump, when she showed up at the mansion I also, unfortunately, inherited from my sister.

“You must be Dean,” Becky said, darkening the doorway of my new home.

The less said about the built-in innuendo of her surname, the better. “You must be…her,” I said, refraining from saying something incredibly rude.

“Indeed, I am,” the nanny said all but pushing past me.

“Please, come in,” I snapped to the empty space left in her wake.

The woman already acted like this was her home, not mine. I was the master of the house, and she needed to recognize that.

As I turned to give her a piece of my mind, my breath caught. The picture on her resume really did not do her justice. Miss Hump had a full heart-shaped rump, a narrow waist, and long, shiny black hair that fell in cascades over her big tits. Curves like that immediately woke something in me that was long dormant. My skin flamed with desire.

Becky caught me staring and raised one perfect, dark eyebrow.

No words came to my clenched throat.

“Where is the little one?” she asked, turning away.

“Asleep in her room. We had a rather heated disagreement over whether she should take a bath. I was firmly on the pro side while she was more in favor of running around the apartment, yelling ‘no!’ Tuckered the little tyke right out.”

“Sounds like quite the ordeal.”

I shrugged. “At my age, cardio is good.”

“Oh, come on. You couldn't be more than 30,” she said, putting down her large bag, granting me a generous view of her beautiful ass. She was wearing yoga pants. Of course, she was. The see-through ones and without underwear as far as I could tell.

“Mama?”

We both looked to see Jessica coming down the long hallway from her room, still rubbing her eyes. I went into a different state of consciousness, a standing meditation to keep from feeling the emotions that were threatening to be felt.

The six-year-old looked so much like her mother. She had the same red hair, the same dimples in her plush cheeks, and the way she walked was spot on, the same as Simone, slightly pigeon-toed. Jessica’s presence made my chest ache. A feeling I did not want to feel.

“No, sorry, sweetie. But I am here to take care of you.” Becky bent down some so she could look right into the little one’s face.

“Okay,” Jessica said, still blinking.

I could empathize. It was a hell of a thing to be told right after waking up.

****

Two weeks passed, and things in the world got worse. The news was using the word pandemic. People were scared, and everyone was waiting for the governor to lock us down.

Inside the mansion, the tension was high as well. I could give Miss Hump this much, she was a perfect nanny. As a housemate, she could be a real pain in the ass. Not only because it was my house, and my tiny, human blood- relation in question, yet, Becky came in like a class four hurricane in combat boots—which I had to admit looked pretty sexy combined with her yoga pants and tight sweaters.

I did my best and could be sure that if I was wrong, I would be corrected faster than a trainee at a nuclear power plant. The nanny actually swatted my hand away from a jar of peanut butter, insisting that Jessica was allergic. I wanted to swat her right back, preferably on the rump region but knew it would be inappropriate. Simone always told me that two wrongs didn't make a right.

I did make it a point to re-read the letter that Simone had left to help me along in case of her death. She really did plan ahead. It turned out that Becky had been right, and Jessica was allergic to peanut butter. Not deathly allergic, as Becky had implied, but she would have gotten a terrible tummy ache.

Still, I couldn't have Becky contradicting me in front of Jessica. I was supposed to be the authority figure and what was she to make of it if Becky kept contradicting me. I had to get rid of Becky.

I remembered that my own buddy Joe, one of the few people in the tri-state area I could stand at that point. The feeling being very much mutual, he had given me a card for a charity agency he, Joe, had set up to help childcare workers during the impending shutdown in the wake of the pandemic and asked if I wanted to be a donor. I had fibbed slightly, implying that I would be interested, but I was only interested if he would be able to help get rid of Becky.

Ducking out as Becky was putting a characteristically fussy Jessica to bed, I got out the card and dialed.

“Joe Sumner,” he said, still in business mode.

“Joe, it's Dean.”

“Oh, hey, Dean. Did you consider my pitch?”

“I did indeed and think it is a wonderful thing you are doing. Listen, you wouldn't happen to know any childcare workers or nannies, perhaps, who are looking for work?”

“No, sorry. Everyone I work with is either employed by first responders and/or already self-quarantining. That's why they need the money. You could really be a big help, you know. I know folks of your class don't traditionally work but—”

I knew where he was going and ended the call before he got there. I was getting enough guilt trips from