Her Billionaire Boss, page 2
“Then my parents are staying here. Mum and Da are out to dinner right now, enjoying their night on the town.” He paused and frowned. “This will put a bit of a damper on their evening.”
“Will your parents help you with him while on the cruise?” Laila wondered.
“That wouldn’t be fair; it’s supposed to be a holiday. No, I’ll need to find a nanny for the cruise. Dedicated eyes on the lad seems like a better idea than me just winging it.” A rueful smile stretched across his face. “And I have a solid eighteen hours to do that before launch. Nothing to worry about, eh?” he finished, glancing at Laila.
Laila couldn’t help laughing along with him. “Super easy. I mean, you have someone experienced with kids who just happens to be unemployed right here in your foyer. You don’t even need the eighteen hours.”
Marc’s eyes went wide. For a few moments, Laila could only smile back at him stupidly. Why was he looking at her like that? Why wasn’t he laughing at the funny joke she’d just made—?
“You’re hired,” he blurted.
“I’m—what?” Laila stared at him, then shook her head. “No, no, I mean thank you and everything, but I was just kidding around. You don’t know me from Adam.”
“You worked for child services. I assume you’ve been checked out once or twice,” Marc said. “Were you fired for negligence?”
“Absolutely not,” Laila huffed. “I wasn’t fired at all—I was laid off due to budget cutbacks.”
“Grand. Would you submit to another background check just to be sure?”
“I—”
“And a rush drug test too, of course. I can get one within the hour.”
“Yes, but—”
“And you have a passport? Shite, I should have asked that first.”
She and Brian had planned a trip to the British Virgin Islands for their honeymoon. “Yes.” She sighed. “I have a passport.”
“Then you’re hired.”
“I—are you sure?”
He apparently was. Very quickly—the way everything had been happening this month—Laila found herself signing the contract Marc’s lawyer drew up and sent over, stipulating that she was being hired on—for a magnificent sum—to serve as a nanny for a six-week cruise across the Atlantic. Her, the foster kid who’d never left the Tri-State area.
“You look a little green,” Marc said kindly, once she had set her pen down. “There’s nothing to be worried about. It’ll be fun.”
Right then, Grayson let out a bloodcurdling wail, and Laila rushed to her new charge’s side, wondering what she’d gotten both of them into.
2
Marc shut the door behind Laila and paused for a moment to collect his breath.
Obviously, he had a lot to think about—the infant currently snoozing in his carrier after Laila had rocked him back to sleep a few moments ago being the biggest one—but what his mind kept focusing on was the woman who had just taken the elevator back to the lobby.
God, she was gorgeous. Her skin was otherworldly, golden tan with the cutest spray of freckles across her pert nose. Even her no-nonsense business attire could not hide the ripe peach of her ass or the way her breasts strained against the fabric of her blouse. She looked like every fantasy he’d ever allowed himself. But this was not the time for fantasies. Now was the time to figure out what the hell he was going to do next.
He took a deep breath, steadied himself, ran down his mental checklist, and then pulled out his trump card for help with no strings attached.
He called his mum.
The background din of a loud restaurant assaulted his ears. He heard his father’s aggrieved murmur, followed by his mother’s wheedling, “Och, I dinnae understand these contraptions—oh! It’s on! Hullo, Marcus! Can ya hear me?”
“Aye, Mum. Sorry to bother.”
“It’s no bother,” his sainted mum reassured him even though he was pretty sure his da would disagree.
Marc rubbed the back of his neck. “Mum, I’ve got something to tell ye, and I need ya to not ask questions until I’m done with the whole story.”
“I’m listening,” she said immediately.
He glanced towards the baby carrier. Poor Remy. Memories flashed through his mind, the all-nighters they used to pull in college, grilling each other before their econ exams, the night they broke into the cafeteria and stole a whole tray of pudding cups. They’d grown apart these last few years, but the strong sense of loyalty remained—on both sides, apparently, since Remy had gone so far as to name Marc as guardian. Guilt flashed like minnows in his veins, and he cleared his throat. “Mum, do you remember Remy Clark? My mate from university?”
His mother did, and he quickly filled her in on the accident and the aftermath, concluding with, “I know you and Da had a whole night out planned, but would you mind coming back now? I have baby supplies for the night, but I need to go buy more for the cruise.”
She promised to come right away, but time seemed to stretch endlessly before then. His Chinese food showed up eventually, but Marc just set it aside. He had no appetite. Finally, he heard his parents letting themselves in with his spare key. Da, unsurprisingly, disappeared into the guest room without a word to Marc, but his mum immediately headed his way. “You poor lad,” his mum said immediately.
Marc allowed himself to be folded into her tight embrace. His mother held him for a moment, and he could feel the emotion start to well up inside of him.
He pulled back, wiping his eyes. This was not the moment to fall apart—this was the moment to take charge. That was what he was known for, after all. You didn’t become a billionaire before age thirty-five by stepping back and letting life happen to you. “Can you make me a list of things we’ll need for the trip?”
“Of course. And then when I am done with that…” She paused and for a moment her eyes shone with excitement. “Can I see him? Is he awake?”
Marc chuckled. His mother’s baby fever was not a surprise. “He’s in his carrier, right around here. Mum, meet Grayson Clark. He’s six months old.”
“Oh, Marc,” his mother breathed. She clutched his arm for a moment before dropping down to a crouch to peer at the sleeping baby. “He’s perfect! Look at those wee lips! I wonder what he’s dreaming about.”
“Hopefully something on that list you were going to make me,” Marc prompted his mother.
“Oh, right.” She sprang back up again and after some back and forth over whether they needed a notepad (“Mum, that’s what my phone is for.”) Marc got his marching orders and set off in search of a portable crib, additional formula, bottles, nappies, wipes, and whatever a “teether” was. He also put in a call to the captain to make sure the cruise was prepared for another adult passenger and a baby.
The call to the captain went a lot better than his shopping foray. Ten minutes before closing, a kindly sales associate took pity on him and grabbed his shopping cart. “I’ll do it,” she told him firmly. “You go wait at aisle twelve.”
The upshot of this was that he really had no idea what he’d bought until he’d returned home and had his mother go through and explain everything. Once everything was unboxed and set up, his mother took one look at his face and squeezed his hand again. “Would you like me to take first shift with the wee lad?”
Marc closed his eyes in relief. “Yes. Thank you.”
His mother gave him a fond smile. “Let’s get the bairn out of that carrier and into his new crib. I’ll show you what the nighttime routine should look like. When was the last time you changed a nappy?”
At least he wasn’t as helpless at nappy changes as he was in nappy aisles, he thought to himself proudly once Grayson was changed and dressed in his new duckie pajamas. His mum settled herself onto the Pilates ball that she’d told Marc to buy—for reasons he didn’t quite understand until she started bouncing—and the baby’s eyes began to droop.
“How’s Da?” he asked her in a low voice. Although his parents had been staying with him for the past two days in preparation for the cruise, he’d barely exchanged two words with his father. That was typical of their relationship. If it weren’t for his mother keeping him in the loop, he wouldn’t even know about the struggles they’d faced with Da’s declining health.
“Is he faring well?” he asked his mother with a touch of desperation in his voice.
His mother sighed as she patted Grayson’s butt rhythmically. “Better than you’d expect, but worse than he thinks.”
“What does he think?”
“That he’s invincible?” his mother said dryly.
Marc let out a frustrated groan. “He has silicosis. He’s clearly not invincible. What’s it going to take to get through to him?”
His mother stayed resolutely silent, whether out of loyalty or just plain resignation, he wasn’t sure. The two stayed quiet for a moment as Grayson’s breathing slowed and deepened.
“Have you thought about how to tell him about the treatment facility?” Marc finally asked once she’d risen to settle Grayson into his crib. It was the whole reason for the cruise—even if his father didn’t know it. Sometime between now and when they arrived in Greece, someone was going to have to break it to Kenneth Campbell that they’d brought him there for access to a new and revolutionary treatment.
His mother shook her head. “You let me worry about that,” she told him as she turned out the light. “For now, you and I both need some sleep.”
They needed sleep. But they definitely did not get it.
Marc stifled a yawn and took another swig of his coffee. Grayson had been restless as anything all night long. Every hour, seemingly on the hour, either he or his mother—but never his father—would have to run into the room to feed him, or change him, or soothe him out of whatever infant terrors that plagued him. It wasn’t fair at all to be irritated with a baby, but Marc couldn’t look at Grayson this morning without glaring a little.
“I think that’s everything,” he told his parents once they’d emerged from the guest room. Their bags were all packed up and bound for the docks. He’d arranged for porters to drive the bags separately, figuring they would need to be loaded on far earlier than any passengers would.
But his own nerves couldn’t stand the wait, and not long after the porters had left, he called the town car to come pick up the three of them. Four of them.
He figured they would be the first to arrive.
He must have forgotten what family he’d been born into.
“Oh look!” his mother said, pointing out the window for Grayson to see. “Everyone is here already!”
“The whole Campbell family,” Marc echoed. “Hope you’re ready.” He unfastened Grayson from his new car seat and hefted him awkwardly into his arms.
“A baby?” his younger cousins squealed, rushing up to him.
“Where did you get a baby from?” his cousin Mathilda asked incredulously.
Grayson looked around at all the faces surrounding him and began to wail.
“Oh.” Marc bounced on his heels the way he’d seen his mother do last night. “Uh, there, there. It’s okay. You’re all right.” It must have sounded as unconvincing to Grayson as it did to Marc, because the baby settled into a desperate, keening cry.
His father snorted. “You’ve definitely got the knack,” he said. “You telling me I’m gonna be stuck on a boat, not only with you lot,” he said, gesturing to the family around him, “but with a fussy bairn too?”
Marc felt the heat rise to the back of his neck. This was the most his father had spoken to him in the past forty-eight hours, and it was to insult him.
Just as he was about to snap back with his own feelings about being stuck on a boat with his father, his Aunt Sutton piped up. “Kenneth, would you bloody well calm down and smile for once in your life? Stop being an eejit if that’s possible.”
Aunt Sutton had always been Marc’s favorite.
His favorite cousin, meanwhile, was shaking her head at this whole scene. “I canna believe you have a baby,” Mathilda repeated. “Are you at least going to tell us his name?”
“Uh, this is Grayson.” He bounced up and down again. “His father was an old college friend. There was an accident a few days ago—I found out yesterday that he left custody to me. Grayson, this is my cousin Mathilda. Maybe she will do a better job of calming you down?”
Mathilda, who looked a little guilty now for teasing him, reached out to take Grayson, but their aunt cut her off. “Give me the wee baby!” Aunt Sandra yelled.
Marc weighed his exasperation with his least favorite aunt against his desire for Grayson to stop fussing and immediately passed him over. Aunt Sandra cooed and did some weird shushing thing that either calmed the baby or weirded him out so much that he had to stop crying to hear better. Either way, Grayson stopped crying for a moment and just stared at the woman holding him.
Marc wondered if he was supposed to continue the introductions, but then decided it didn’t matter. Grayson seemed far more interested in sucking on his fist than learning how everyone was related to Marc—that Sutton and Sandra were his father’s sisters, that Fraser was his father’s uncle, that Mathilda was Sutton’s daughter, and that Fiona and Felix were Fraser’s grandchildren.
There was no need for Grayson to learn about the family…since he likely wouldn’t be part of it for long. Marc had already put his lawyers to work on finding suitable relatives of Remy or his wife to take Grayson in. Marc would make sure the boy was taken care of, of course, but he also knew that he had no business being a father. He’d fulfill his duty to Remy by making sure his friend’s son found a wonderful home. One that didn’t include an antisocial, workaholic father figure. Until that perfect home could be found, Marc would just have to get through this situation the same way he’d gotten through every other trial he’d faced—with commitment, dedication, and a willingness to hire the best people available to help him along the way.
Speaking of which, where was Laila? He hoped she hadn’t gotten cold feet, though honestly, he wouldn’t blame her.
He frowned as the transport boat approached. “You have to ride that out to meet the yacht,” he explained to the group as the boat drew closer.
“Everyone on!” Aunt Sutton yelled once the boat had docked.
Marc hung back. “Um, well not everyone. Not yet.” He glanced towards the end of the dock. “We’re still waiting for someone.”
“Who?”
“Marc hired a nanny,” his mother explained. “She should be here any minute, right, Marcus? Would you like me to wait with you?”
Marc shook his head. “You lot all go on without me and pick out your rooms.”
“I call biggest,” Mathilda announced immediately.
“Nice try,” he teased her. “The VIP stateroom goes to mum and Da. And the owner’s suite—”
“Goes to you, I reckon?” Mathilda rolled her eyes at him. “Boring.”
Marc laughed. “Well, everything else is fair game. I’m going to trust you to make sure no terrible fights break out.”
“I make no guarantees,” Mathilda shot back. But she seemed to take her post seriously, because she raised her voice. “All right you lot, let’s move out!” She waved her hands, effectively shooing everyone down the gangplank and into the hands of the waiting crew.
Once everyone was on board, the transport boat pulled away, leaving Marc and Grayson alone. The absence of the boat’s motor left a profound silence in its wake, punctuated only by the staccato shrieks of the gulls overhead.
He kept his eyes trained at the far end of the pier, watching for Laila’s telltale cloud of curls. One minute passed, and then five, and when she still hadn’t appeared, Marc found his attention wandering to the small human he was holding.
At least Grayson was currently calm in his arms. “I’m sorry for my mess of a family,” he told the baby. “And these are just the ones that could come on the cruise. You’re lucky you don’t have the whole Campbell clan to contend with.”
The infant burbled and smacked his tiny fist into Marc’s chest.
“Yeah, I agree,” Marc had to laugh. “They are definitely a train wreck. I know they love each other, but they don’t always know how to show it. I’m going to promise you something right now, okay? I’m going to find you a better family. The best family, even. You deserve people who can devote all their time to you. You deserve—”
He caught himself before he could say, “a father.”
Marc was not equipped, in any way, shape, or form, to be a father. Grayson deserved the full package—a father who genuinely wanted children, not just someone who was putting up with a situation he was thrown into.
“You deserve the best, and I’m going to get you the best. But the best is not me. You ken?” he asked the baby.
For a moment, their eyes connected, and Marc found himself wondering just how much a six-month-old could really comprehend.
Then Grayson burbled and lurched forward to gum the buttons on Marc’s shirt. Which, Marc supposed, was the best answer he could possibly have gotten, considering.
3
Laila sprinted down the gangway, her roller case catching the back of her heel every other step. She was going to have one hell of a bruise, but there was no time to worry about that now.
The pier was a confusing mass of interconnected gangways. The docked yachts and sailboats she passed on her hell-for-leather sprint seemed to get bigger the further she went. Her heart—already about to beat out of her chest with the unexpected exercise—quickened even faster in anticipation of the size of Marc’s craft. What would she be spending the next six weeks of her life on?
But when she reached the numbered slip he’d instructed her to meet him at, she was surprised. It was completely empty.
Save for a stunningly handsome Scottish man holding a baby.
“I’m sorry!” She panted at Marc’s broad back.
He turned and smiled at her. Grayson was planted comfortably on his hip, looking happy and no worse for the wear for having spent the night with strangers.
