Mr. Everything: A Billionaire and the Nanny Romance



I hold my breath as I enter the Space Center, gripping Randall’s hand tightly with one hand and the other holding the skirt of my glittering pink gown so I don’t step on it. I would have sewn the hem but I didn’t have the time. I barely had time to pick a gown as it was, not to mention time to bring my hair back to the golden shade it used to be and to have it styled.

I wanted to make a good first impression at my first high-end party, after all.

I can’t tell if I’m succeeding. I can see heads turning. I can feel gazes on me, from men and women. I can’t tell what they’re thinking, though.

Why are they staring? Don’t they know it’s rude to stare? Is it because they’ve never seen me before? Is it because, on the contrary, they’ve seen my YouTube video, which I still can’t believe exists? Is it because of my gown? Did I pick the wrong one? It is quite simple, plain pink with a fairly modest Queen Anne neckline. Or is it because I’m with Randall?

Strange. Randall said he didn’t like these parties but he seems comfortable. He’s even smiling at some of the guests.

“Liar,” I whisper to him. “You seem to be loving the party.”

“That’s because I’m with you,” he says, turning his head to look at me. “I’m with the most beautiful, talented woman in the room.”

I snort but blush. “You just brought me to show me off, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” Randall confesses. “Consider it a marketing strategy. Soon, you’ll have your own album and these people may remember seeing you here, and they might just become curious enough to buy a copy.”

“These people? Buy my album?” I raise an eyebrow. “I’m sure they only listen to live music played by orchestras like this one.”

“You’d be surprised,” he tells me. “Some of these people might even listen to Justin Bieber and Carly Rae Jepsen in their limousines.”

I chuckle. Really? These people who look like they only eat food prepared by Michelin-starred chefs and don’t wear the same outfit twice?

As I look around, I keep an eye out for Vince. What Randall said was right. I mustn’t skip these parties just because I might meet him. If I do, I might as well hide under a rock.

No. I won’t do that. If he’s here, then I’ll just have to face him with my chin held high and my shoulders straight.

That doesn’t mean I’m not afraid, though.

“It will be all right,” Randall tells me as if he’s just read my mind, touching my hand. “I’m here and I’m never going to leave your side.”

I nod, trusting him.

“Well, well, look who showed up tonight,” a familiar voice calls my attention.

Turning my head, I smile at Gil. “I didn’t know you’d be here, too.”

“Randall didn’t tell you?” Gil narrows his eyes at Randall. “I was the one who actually suggested that he bring you along.”

“Really?” I look at Randall for confirmation but he gives none.

“Maybe he wants you all for himself, and I don’t blame him,” Gil says, smiling at me. “You look stunning.”

I blush. “Thank you.”

“And sparkling, too, just like the star Randall says you will be.”

I look down. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I don’t want to be a star, really. I just want to sing.”

“As you should. I watched your video, and I fell in love with you.”

Randall clears his throat.

“I mean your voice, as I’m sure many have. When your album comes out, I’ll buy a thousand copies.”

“A thousand?” I give him a look of surprise.

“I told you the guests here would buy copies,” Randall whispers to me.

Yes, he did. But a thousand?

“Come.” Randall holds my hand. “Let me introduce you to some of the other guests.”





***

An hour later, I’ve lost track of all the guests I’ve met. I know someone was the head of something at NASA, one was an astronaut, one was a Senator’s brother. One woman, who was the wife of some CEO, said she had seen my video. I can’t remember all their names, much less match the name to the face to the title.

There are just too many of them.

“How do you remember who’s who?” I ask Randall as I take a sip from my second glass of champagne.

“I don’t,” Randall confesses, drinking from his own glass. “If you noticed, I only introduced you to someone and that person introduced you to someone else and… well, you get the idea.”

“So, you just need to know one person?”

“You need to know the right person,” Randall answers.

“Mr. and Mrs. Brewster, am I correct?” a voice interrupts us.

I tense. It’s a familiar voice, too, but it isn’t Gil’s.

It’s the voice of the person I’ve been dreading to see.

Vince. I had a feeling he was going to appear tonight.

I take a deep breath, straightening my shoulders before turning around to face him.

“Yes, you’re correct,” I say, gripping Randall’s arm as I stick out my chin.

“And you are?” Randall asks.

“Vincent Lestair.”

I feel Randall’s body tense, too. He’s angry. I can feel it.

He reminds me of a wolf who has just seen his prey, ready to pounce, fangs bared and hocks raised.

I squeeze his arm.

Easy, boy.

“Never heard of the name,” Randall says, calming down a little but with his jaw still clenched.

“Really?” Vince’s brows furrow. “Surely, Mrs. Brewster has mentioned it.” He looks at me. “It is Mrs. Brewster, isn’t it?”

“She already said it was,” Randall says.

“Sorry,” Vince says. “It’s just that I find her very familiar, almost like someone who was very dear to me.”

My heart pounds.

“I’m sure you’re mistaken,” I tell him, hanging on to my composure.

Like Randall said, if I can’t face him here, I won’t be able to face him anywhere.

“Funny.” Vince’s gaze goes down my dress, and I suppress a shudder. “You look exactly like her. Same eyes. Same—”

“She said you were mistaken,” Randall cuts him off.

“Of course,” Vince says. “My mistake. Everyone makes mistakes, you know. Even me.”

What is he trying to say?

“Careful,” Randall warns as he swirls the golden liquid around in his glass. “Some mistakes have a price. A very steep price.”

“Yes.” Vince doesn’t flinch. “I’m sure now that it isn’t her. After all, the woman I knew could speak for herself and stand up for herself.” He glances at me. “She wouldn’t hide behind her husband.”

Is that a challenge?

“I don’t appreciate you insulting my wife, Mr. Lestair,” Randall tells him.

“Oh, no insult meant.” Vince laughs it off. “Maybe she just looks familiar because she looks like someone I’ve seen on the Internet recently.”

He saw the video?

“Or was that you?”

“Yes, it’s me,” I answer. “I’ve always wanted to be a singer, you see. Someone tried to take that dream away from me but he didn’t succeed. And now, I’m going to make it come true no matter what.”

Vince grins. “How admirable.”

“If I ever see that bastard again, I swear I’ll crush him to bits,” Randall threatens. “And I’ll do the same to anyone who dares stand in the way of her dream again.”

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