His Nanny Mate - Season 3 Episode 96

Ella

The stretcher bearing the injured man maneuvered its way through the crowd. The room seemed to be in slow motion, with each passing second feeling like an eternity. The stark contrast of the man’s bloodied face against the pristine backdrop of the opulent ballroom was a sight that would stay with me for a long time.

Logan, ever the picture of calm, nonchalantly picked up a white cloth napkin from a nearby table. With deliberate strokes, he began to clean the blood from his knuckles. To the casual observer, it would seem like he was simply wiping away a spill from dinner. But I knew better. A well-dressed man approached Logan, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Well done, Logan,” he said, clapping him on the back with an almost brotherly familiarity. “That guy was a real Class A pest. Maybe now he’ll finally learn his lesson.”

Logan just nodded, his face expressionless. He said nothing; there was nothing he could say. It wasn’t exactly like he could reveal that he had beat up a man for hitting an escort, especially when most of these men likely treated escorts exactly the same.

While the men around him congratulated Logan, offering their approval, I felt at maelstrom of emotions within me. It was almost surreal. With just a few words, I had set in motion events that resulted in a man being brutalized.

The weight of what had transpired was overwhelming. On one hand, I felt a certain satisfaction-justice had been doled out. The escort, a victim, had been avenged. But, on the other hand, the realization that my words held so much power was terrifying.

“Ella.” Ema’s voice, gentle yet firm, echoed within the confines of my mind. “You did the right thing.” I closed my eyes momentarily, trying to find solace in the connection I shared with my wolf. “It’s just… this power, Ema. It’s both a gift and a curse.”

Ema’s response was soft, almost a caress. “Power isn’t inherently good or evil, Ella. It’s about the choices we make, how we use it.” I leaned against the bar, my heart still pounding, watching as medics wheeled the man away.

The grandeur of the ballroom, the opulence of the event, it all seemed so absurd when contrasted against the stark reality of what had just occurred. As I glanced around, I was astounded by the apathy in the room; no one seemed even remotely interested in the brutal scene that had just played out.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the young escort with the blackened eye. She was standing near the back, looking equal parts relieved and terrified. As our eyes met, she managed a weak smile. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes.

“Talk to her,” Ema said, urging me. “She needs you.”

Ads by Pubfuture

Pushing off from the bar, I approached her, my heels clicking softly against the marble floor. “Are you okay?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

She cast a nervous glance around the room before answering, her voice low. “I’ll live. But that guy? He was a big customer. My boss… he won’t be happy about this.”

Fear bubbled up within me, intertwining with a desperate need to help. In a frantic motion, I grabbed a cocktail napkin and a pen from the bar and quickly scribbled down an address.

“Listen to me carefully,” I urged, holding her gaze. “Go to this address. Tell them Ella sent you. If anyone asks, say you were a client of mine and are looking for work.”

The escort’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Client? What do you-”

I shook my head, cutting her off. “It doesn’t matter. Just use that story. It’s in a different city, but it’s safe. The work is hard, but they’ll give you a job. Decent pay, health insurance, and most importantly, safe working conditions.”

The girl eyed me suspiciously, doubt evident in her gaze. “How can you offer this? Who are you?”

A pang of realization struck me. Sharing my real name was a risk I hadn’t considered. I hesitated for a heartbeat, then leaned in closer.

“Just trust me. Don’t ask questions. If you really want a way out, a fresh start… this is it.”

She hesitated for a long moment, uncertainty clouding her eyes. Finally, she nodded slowly. “I’ll think about it.” She offered me a tentative smile, gratitude flickering in her eyes. “Thank you.”

As she walked away, I felt a mixture of relief and apprehension. Had I done the right thing? Before I could process it further, a familiar presence enveloped me..

Logan’s hands found their way to my waist, drawing me into the dance floor. The music surrounded us, but the world seemed to fade away as he gazed intently at me.

Through our Mindlink, I heard his voice, tinged with frustration and concern. “Ella, what the hell were you thinking? You could expose yourself!”

I met his gaze, determination fueling my words. “I had to help, Logan. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”

He spun me around, the motion fluid and graceful, but his voice was sharp. “And what’s your plan? Offer every escort in the city a job? She’ll talk, Ella. She’ll tell her friends, and then what?”

Swallowing hard, I replied, “I’ll handle it if it comes to that. But women need to look out for each other. She needed a way out, and I had the means to give it to her.”

For a moment, Logan seemed taken aback. The intensity of his gaze never wavered, but there was a hint of surprise in his eyes. As we moved in harmony to the music, I could feel the tension between us, the weight of the choices we’d both made that evening.

The dim lights of the ballroom cast a gentle glow on the dance floor, making the world beyond it seem to blur and fade.

“Fine,” Logan said aloud, his voice low. “It’s your choice. But onto other matters…”

“Other matters?” I asked, cocking my head to the side. Logan nodded, his grip tightening around my waist. “You look beautiful tonight. And you haven’t stepped on my toes once since we’ve begun dancing.”

I felt my cheeks flush a deep scarlet red. As Logan pulled me into his embrace, the sensation was one of paradoxical contrasts.

On one hand, the physicality of our bodies pressing together-every curve, every muscle- was a testament to our undeniable chemistry. Yet, on the other, the intensity of our silent conversation through the Mindlink rendered us impossibly distant, even when inches apart.

His hands, which had only moments before been stained with blood, were now clean but held me with a firm grasp, guiding me gracefully around the floor. His scent, a potent mix of masculinity with an underlying note of danger, enveloped me, making me feel protected and simultaneously overwhelmed.

With every step, every sway, the lingering metallic smell of blood reached me, binding itself with his natural aroma. It was a cocktail that was both intoxicating and terrifying-a heady blend that was Logan in his truest form.

His piercing eyes never left mine, conveying a sea of emotions. I could feel the energy between us, electric and alive. It danced around us, drawing us even closer, urging me to lean in, to close the distance and press my lips to his.

Every rational part of my mind screamed at me to resist, to remember the blood on his knuckles, the violence he was capable of. Yet, the temptation was almost unbearable.