CHAPTER 6 Be My Son's Nanny
Narda's POV
The music thumped under my heels as I stepped out of the kitchen with a fresh tray of drinks. I hated nights like this. The bass was too loud, the men too bold, and the uniform too tight. I kept my head down, eyes trained on the table I was assigned to, four girls celebrating a birthday. Easy. I smiled, served them, and offered a cheerful "Happy Birthday!" before turning away, only to hear my name crackle in my earpiece.
"Narda," my manager's voice buzzed, clipped and impatient. "Table fifteen. They're getting restless."
My stomach dipped.
I froze near the bar, fingers tightening around the tray. I knew exactly who was at Table 15. Five men. Loud, already half drunk. One of the new girls had served them earlier and emerged pale-faced, wiping her eyes. I'd heard her say one of them had grabbed her, that they laughed when she tried to complain. The manager brushed her off, told her to grow thicker skin.
I shouldn't have to deal with this.
But I needed this job.
I was about to reply when the manager appeared beside me, a tight smile on his face as he gently took the tray from my hands.
"I'll handle this," I started, but he cut me off in a low voice, one that didn't match the fake sympathy in his eyes.
"You will not mess this up," he said under his breath. "Those men are good tippers. High value. VIP clients."
I blinked."But…"
He leaned in closer. "And you'll do what you're paid to do. Smile. Serve. And keep your mouth shut, no matter what they say or touch. You get me?"
I couldn't answer. My tongue felt like stone.
He patted my shoulder and straightened up. "That's a good girl."
Then he was gone.
I stood frozen for a moment, blood roaring in my ears. My heart pounded against my ribs as I turned slowly, forcing myself to walk toward Table 15.
The moment they saw me, their voices rose.
"Well, look what we have here," one of them drawled. "About time they sent something worth looking at."
I gave a tight smile and approached their table, clutching my notepad like a shield. "Good evening, gentlemen. Welcome to Velvet Ember. What can I get you?"
The man in the navy shirt… broad-shouldered, with a cigarette dangling from his lip grinned and raked his eyes down my body. "A whiskey, sweetheart. And a lap dance."
I tried to laugh lightly, keeping it professional. "Sorry, I'm just a waitress. Not a dancer."
"You sure? With those legs?" another chimed in, his gaze shamelessly fixed on my chest.
"With that ass," the third man said, licking his lips, "you're wasting your talent."
I felt sick. But I kept my smile in place. "Can I get your drink orders?"
"Sure. But what we really want is to see how much you'll do for a big tip." One leaned forward, tapping the table. "Ever danced privately for someone before, babe?"
I stepped back slightly, my voice tight. "Gentlemen, I just need your…"
A hand suddenly smacked my backside, hard.
I flinched.
The tray nearly toppled out of my grip. My heart jumped to my throat. I turned sharply, but another hand slid around my waist, fingers brushing the hem of my skirt.
"Hey!" I snapped, panic flaring. "Don't touch me."
But they were laughing now, emboldened.
One stood and leaned in close. His breath stank of beer. "Come on, sweetheart. Don't act like you don't want it. You're already dressed for the part."
I backed away, but someone else caught my wrist, tugging me toward him. Another hand grazed the inside of my thigh.
My body locked.
I couldn't breathe.
I tried to pull away, but their laughter echoed louder than the music, rising like a chant.
"Feisty little thing!"
"She likes it… look at her blush!"
"Just give us one spin, baby!"
A wave of cold horror swept through me. My skin crawled. I twisted, trying to shove past them…
But then…
A different hand gripped my wrist.
Firm.
Sure.
I gasped as I was pulled back… away from the groping hands, into a solid chest.
Before I even looked up, I knew.
The scent hit me first.
Woodsmoke. Citrus. Clean. Expensive.
My body froze.
My breath caught as my heart turned traitor inside my chest.
Then I looked up and time stopped.
Him.
The man from that night.
The one whose touch had lit me up from the inside out. The man who had taken me to a world I didn't know existed, even if only for a night.
His face was like something carved from ice. Cold. Beautiful. Dangerous.
His eyes sliced across the table of men like blades.
His arm tightened around my waist, tugging me protectively behind him.
One of the drunk men stood. "What the fuck is your problem?"
But the man who held me didn't raise his voice. Didn't even flinch.
He was calm.
Lethally calm.
The kind of calm that came just before someone was destroyed.
Recognition flickered in one of the men's eyes. He stepped forward, suddenly sober.
"Sir… wait… Mr. Knight?"
The name sounded familiar but I didn't let it show. I didn't know him. Not really.
"I work for Knight Logistics. The shipping branch. Midwest Division," the man said quickly, his tone shifting to groveling.
Mr. Knight, if that was truly his name, finally turned his head.
"You work for my company?" he asked, voice like ice on glass.
"Yes, sir," the man stammered. "I'm under Jerome Cas…"
"You're fired," Mr. Knight said flatly.
The man's mouth dropped open. "What?"
"You just harassed a woman," he said, tone deadly calm. "You touched her without consent. You touched my…" his jaw flexed, the word dying in his throat. "You're done. As of this moment. You're lucky i only fired you"
"I…I have a family… please… "
But he was already turning.
The others at the table went quiet, shrinking into themselves.
He looked at me again, softening, almost imperceptibly. Then he took my hand.
And led me away.
Out of the club.
Into the cool night air.
My lungs finally expanded as the door shut behind us. I hadn't realized I'd stopped breathing.
He let go of my hand and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a bottle of water.
"Here," he said.
I took it with trembling fingers and downed half of it before I even thought to thank him.
He watched me, then asked, "What's your name?"
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "Narda."
He exhaled softly, like he'd been holding his breath since he found me.
"What are you doing working at a place like that?" he asked.
I blinked. "What do you mean?"
"A club like that," he said. "It's not safe for a young girl such as yourself."
I looked away. "I didn't have a choice."
His silence stretched.
He wasn't judging me. But something about his stillness made me anxious.
Then he said, "Can we talk?"
Talk?
My brain spun.
Oh god.
He wanted to talk about that night. About the hotel. About what we did. Did his wife found out. Maybe he…
"Sorry," I said quickly, backing away. "I have to get back to work."
I turned to reach for the door handle, heart racing.
But his hand closed gently around my wrist.
"I have an offer for you."
I froze.
Swallowed hard.
Turned slowly.
His eyes met mine… serious, clear, unwavering.
"I want you to be my son's nanny."
"…What?" I breathed.