Captive Vow by Willow Fox

8

Paige

I’m startled awake by the soft tapping of little Nova.

“Hey, good morning.”

She stands beside my bed, her stuffed giraffe tight in one arm and her thumb tucked in her mouth.

“Do you want to keep me company?” I ask and pat the bed beside me.

I haven’t glanced at the clock yet. The sun is just rising, and it’s peeking through the curtains, which means it’s too early for me to be awake.

Nova climbs atop my covers. She lies beside me for a split second before gathering onto her knees and tapping my shoulder again.

I roll onto my side.

She’s not going to let me sleep. “Are you hungry for breakfast?”

Her eyes are wide, and she nods vigorously as if she’s starving.

We had a feast for dinner. The guard brought our meal up to the bedroom, where the two of us opted for a picnic on the floor with her stuffed animals.

Hopefully, we can sneak down to the kitchen without bothering Moreno.

I want to check out the rest of the house, too.

“Let’s get you dressed,” I say and climb out from beneath the covers.

Her pitter-patter of feet hurries across the hardwood floor and to the open adjoining door. Nova heads inside, waiting for me to accompany her.

It takes a few seconds for me to fully wake. I rub the sleep from my eyes and catch sight of Nova poking her head around the corner of her door.

She’s waiting for me, wondering if I’m coming. I head into her bedroom and grab a white dress with red poppies for her to wear. It’s a summer dress, but it’ll be perfect for today’s weather.

“How about this?” I ask, showing her the outfit from her dresser.

She grins and snatches the fabric from my grip. “If you want to dress, I’ll get ready too.”

I don’t sense any hesitation, so I head out through the adjoining door and close it most of the way.

My bag is situated on the floor by the dresser. I didn’t bother to unpack my clothes or the few belongings that I own. I wasn’t in the mood when Leone brought my things up to my room last night.

It’s not like there’s much to unpack either.

Bending down, I unzip my duffel bag and grab a floral yellow and blue dress with cap sleeves and a keyhole in the front. It’s knee-length and one of my favorite comfy dresses. I hold the accompanying undergarments and head to the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

But there’s no lock.

Great.

Hopefully, Nova won’t bust through the door unannounced.

I doubt she’d knock, and she certainly isn’t going to say a word to warn me she’s coming into the room.

I hurry to undress from my pajamas and slip the dress over my head, tying the front to tighten the keyhole bodice. It’s cute, light, and hugs my figure. Not that I should care. I’m not mixing business and pleasure.

I run my fingers through my hair before opening the bathroom door.

Nova is seated at the edge of my bed, her legs kicking wildly into the air. She’s humming a lullaby and stops abruptly when she glances up at me.

Caught.

It’s the first sound I’ve heard her make.

Was it a song her mother used to sing to her or a previous nanny?

I doubt Moreno ever sang Nova any lullabies. He doesn’t seem the type.

“Are you ready to go downstairs?” I ask.

She climbs down from the bed, the only indication of her answer. Nova doesn’t smile. There’s not even a slight nod of understanding. But I know she comprehends every word I say.

Maybe introducing her to sign language would be beneficial for her to communicate. Although I don’t know very many words, we could learn together.

But the fact she was just humming a lullaby, I can’t help the nagging feeling there’s more than Moreno is telling me.

I turn the handle of the bedroom door, and it squeaks open. Leone is standing guard outside my room.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

“I’m taking Nova downstairs for breakfast,” I say. I’m not asking his permission. This is her house, and she should be allowed to roam freely inside. Besides, her playroom is downstairs, and I can’t imagine we’ll be forced to have every meal upstairs in the bedroom.

I assume last night was a warning from Moreno for trying to take Nova off the property without permission.

He was right. As much as it kills me to admit it, I’d been with her only a few hours and shouldn’t have planned to whisk her away to the park without speaking to her father.

“Very well, I’ll show you to the kitchen,” Leone says. He heads for the stairs.

Nova and I follow a few steps back. She slips her hand into mine as we descend the stairs together.

I casually glance at her and catch a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Good. At least we’re getting along pretty well.

If only the same could be said about her father and me.

Leone leads me past the foyer and down to the kitchen on the opposite side of the house. The log cabin is vast.

“How long have you worked for Moreno?” I ask Leone, trying to make small talk.

He glances over his shoulder at me as he enters the kitchen and flips on the light. There’s a high-top table in dark rich wood with four chairs. The kitchen wasn’t made for kids, but I’m confident Nova can sit there if I help her climb up on the chair.

“You mean Dante,” Leone corrects me. “And it’s been a minute.”

Cryptic, as ever.

“Dante has a chef on staff. He’ll be here in half an hour to prepare a lavish breakfast, but I’m guessing someone can’t wait to eat?” Leone asks, glancing down at Nova.

She sneaks behind my legs.

“It’s fine. I’m hungry too,” I say. “I don’t mind cooking for the two of us.”

“Have at it, just don’t make too big of a mess,” Leone says as he heads out of the kitchen and guards the entrance of the kitchen beside the open entryway.

Is Moreno that concerned that I’m going to sneak off with his daughter that he’s put a guard on me?

“Do you like pancakes?” I ask Nova and spin around to face the little girl.

She opens her mouth, eyes wide like she’s about to speak, and then quickly shuts her lips. The pink lines of her lips are snapped closed and firm. Nova gives a slight glance toward the door and then a quick nod to respond.

I open the pantry and fiddle through, pleased to find pancake mix. At least I won’t have to prepare it from scratch. I grab a bag of chocolate chips.

“What do you think, Nova? Do chocolate chips go in pancakes?” I show her the new bag, and she nods and jumps up and down excitedly.

“Inside,” I gesture with my hand. “Or on top?”

“What are we making?” Moreno strolls into the kitchen and grabs the bag of chocolate chips from my hands.

“Breakfast,” I say, stating the obvious.

He doesn’t look the least bit amused. “With chocolate?”

“Ever heard of pancakes?” It’s not like I’m giving her a chocolate bar for breakfast, though the look of disgust that crosses Moreno’s face may as well suggest it.

He opens the pantry and puts the chocolate chips back inside.

“What are you doing?” I can’t believe he thinks he can boss me around. Yes, he’s her father and probably knows what’s best for her, but it’s one day with chocolate chip pancakes. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal.

“Nova isn’t eating chocolate for breakfast.” He yanks open the refrigerator and pulls out a pint of blueberries. “Pop these in when you mix the batter.”

I glance at Nova, pouty and wide-eyed, staring up at me, her head tilted to the side. I swear she’s trying to convey to me to fight with her father for her to have chocolate, but I don’t need to be in any more hot water.

“Great,” I mutter under my breath with a fake smile. It’s about all I can muster. “Where are the mixing bowls?” I don’t know where anything is located in the massive kitchen, and while the pantry is obvious, there are dozens of cabinets. The bowls could be anywhere.

Moreno bends down and opens the cabinet beside the fridge, retrieving a metal bowl for me to mix the ingredients. “Silverware is in this drawer.” He indicates to the drawer above the bowls. “And the spatula and whisk are over here.”

“Thanks.”

He opens the drawer and hands me a whisk before leaning back against the counter, folding his arms across his chest.

“Do you want me to make you a breakfast too?” I ask. I’m not sure why he’s staring. It’s nerve-wracking.

“That isn’t necessary. Chef Savino will be in shortly. I did want to have a word with you alone,” Moreno says.

Moreno opens the fridge, grabs a carafe of fresh orange juice and a plastic cup from the cabinet, bringing it to the table for Nova. He pours her a cup and pats the top of her head. “Did you sleep well?”

I mix the ingredients into the bowl, trying not to stare at the interaction between Moreno and his daughter. Her shoulders are tight, her body stiff.

Is she afraid of him?

He sighs and comes around the counter, perching himself at the edge. “I think you may be right, well, partially right.” He is quick to clarify his position.

“About?”

Moreno glances over his shoulder at his daughter. “Nova could use a day at the park. Maybe interacting with other kids her age would be good for her. Luca is a sweet kid, but he’s quite a bit older.”

I can’t help but grin. “That’s good. She could use a few friends,” I say. I get the feeling she doesn’t play with anyone other than Luca ordinarily.

“Maybe,” Moreno says, “but you have to take Leone with you.”

“What? Why?” Is he crazy? Leone will scare off everyone at the park, especially any friends that Nova could potentially make.

“Being a businessman means that my family is easily a target. I can’t take the chance that something will happen to Nova. You do understand, don’t you?” Moreno asks.

I don’t, but I smile and nod. “Yeah, sure.” If he wants me to let some guard tag along, fine.

“Leone will drive you both to the park and anywhere else that you think is educational,” Moreno says. “I want my daughter to have a well-rounded upbringing before her schooling begins.”

I drop the spoon into the mixing bowl and step closer to Moreno. Something feels off. Like he’s trying too hard.

“What’s going on?” I stare into his darkened gaze, unwilling to glance away. If I’m looking after his daughter, he needs to tell me the truth. I can’t go in blind and risk something happening to her.

Moreno clears his throat and skirts away from me. “Nothing that you need to concern yourself with, nanny.”

I scoff under my breath. “It’s Paige,” I correct him. “Unless you’d prefer me to call you Nova’s father or businessman?”

His jaw is tight, and he shoves his hands into his pants pockets. He’s already dressed for the day, suit, and tie. “Point taken.”

When he doesn’t divulge anything further, I back off and return to the mixing bowl. I drop in a handful of blueberries. “Are you going to tell me why the sudden change of heart?”

He stares at me blankly, like he has no idea what I’m talking about.

“Allowing me to take Nova to the park. Yesterday, you were one hundred percent against it. Today you’re letting us go with a chaperone pretty much wherever we’d like.” It’s hard not to find the sudden shift in his demeanor strange.

He clears his throat and averts his stare, his focus on the floor beside where I stand. “I made an appointment for Nova to see a doctor this Friday. I’m just trying to get ahead of things.”

Doctor?

Moreno grabs a frying pan from another cabinet below and grabs the oil, giving me a hand.

Maybe he’s just using it as a distraction, but I’m appreciative of the help.

“Is everything all right? If she has a health concern, Moreno, I need to be kept in the loop and made aware of any issues, allergies, anything that might affect her while we’re together.”

“It’s not that kind of doctor,” he says, keeping his voice low and just between the two of us.

I’m not sure I know where he’s going with this conversation.

“A child psychologist was recommended to me, and I thought it would be good to have someone for her to talk to.” Moreno winces at his choice of words.

“Oh. Okay. That’s good,” I say, trying to offer my support.

“Anyway, I’m sure she’ll suggest that she try to make friends, engage with other kids her age, that sort of thing. I may as well let you take her to the park.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Moreno pushes his heels forward and brushes past me, the conversation done for him. “Nova prefers her pancakes to be silver dollars.”

“Thanks.”

He heads out of the kitchen without another word.

I turn the stove down and bring the batter over. “Silver dollar,” I hold up one finger, “or Mickey Mouse pancakes?” I ask Nova, holding up a second finger.

She holds up two fingers and then puts her hands to her head to make Mickey ears.

“Do you want chocolate chips on top?” I ask Nova, already knowing the answer.

Moreno isn’t around. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Nova’s eyes light up. With the widest grin, she points at the cabinet where her father put the chocolate chips.

Besides, it’s not as though she’s telling him anything.