Page 44 of A Nanny for the Reclusive Billionaire

Mallory went into the bedroom and flopped down on the bed. Why did talking with her mother have to be so exhausting? “Actually, it didn’t. In the end, he fell in love and left the bubble, deciding to take his chances in the outside world.”

“That’s right. I always hated that movie.”

Mallory punched her pillow in frustration. “I’m a grown woman. You have to let me live my life.”

“I’m trying,” her mother said, sounding sincere. “But it’s hard adjusting to this new you. My sweet, docile Mallory has become stubborn and headstrong. You’re acting like…”

“Like Brooke?” Mallory offered.

“Yes, if you must know.” Her mother huffed. “Is this your sister’s influence? Did she put you up to this?”

“No, she didn’t. This is about me, Mom. Not Brooke.”

“I was hoping the storm made you reconsider your decision to move.”

“New York has weather, too. Blizzards. Nor’easters.”

The line went silent for what seemed like forever but was probably less than a minute. Mallory was starting to think her mother had hung up on her when the older woman finally spoke. “Well, I expect you home for your sister’s reception next month. She might have eloped, but that doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate with a few hundred of our closest friends.”

As if her mother cared about celebrating. The whole thing was a thinly veiled vehicle for her to show off Brooke’s Fortune 500 bridegroom to all her high-society friends. The fact that Brooke would be miserable for the entire event was an added bonus, punishment for her daughter’s decision to run off and get married without her.

But that was Brooke’s problem, not Mallory’s. She closed her eyes and relaxed into her pulverized pillow. It looked like her mother had given up the come-home-where-we-can-control-you battle. For now. Mallory had no illusions the war was over. “Of course. I’ve already asked for the time off and booked my flight.”

“That’s a small consolation, I suppose.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help with the arrangements.”

“From all the way down there? Doubtful.” Ah, the disdain was back in full force. “But I appreciate the offer.”

On that not-so-high note, Mallory bade her mother a quick goodbye and clicked off. Her next call to Brooke was a completely different minefield. She’d always had a hard time hiding anything from her sister. One little slip, and Brooke would know every detail of Mallory’s recently rediscovered sex life.

She steeled her voice to remain as neutral as humanly possible. Her sister picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Brooke. How’s things in the big city?”

“It’s about time you called and let me know you’re okay.” Her sister sounded only moderately less annoyed than her mother. “You are okay, aren’t you?”

“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. And everyone’s fine here.”

“Everyone, huh?” Brooke’s raised eyebrow was almost audible. “Does that include Captain von Dreamy?”

Mallory bristled. “I wish you’d stop calling him that.”

“Oh. My. God.” Brooke squealed. Actually squealed. Mallory didn’t think she’d ever heard that particularly nauseating sound come out of her normally sarcastic sister. “You went all Fräulein Maria on his sexy ass, didn’t you?”

“I did what?” Mallory bolted upright.

“You slept with him, you dirty girl. I’m so proud of you.”

What the actual fudge? Was her sister psychic or something? Mallory had no idea what she’d said to give Brooke the admittedly correct notion she and Rhys had sex, but she wasn’t about to give her any more ammunition. “I don’t remember that in the movie.”

“It’s implied.” The distinctive crinkle of a candy wrapper told Mallory her sister had broken into her ever-present stash of junk food. “And you didn’t deny it. So how was it? Is he as good in the sack as he looks?”

Mallory gritted her teeth. “I’m not discussing this with you.”

“That’s funny,” Brooke mumbled through a mouthful of what Mallory assumed was her sister’s chocolate of choice, a Milky Way. “I remember you grilling me about Eli.”

“And I remember you refusing to answer.”

“Just tell me you’re going to do it again. Or should I say do him again? And again, and again, and again…”