His Nanny Mate - Season 4 Episode 51

Ella

The morning light streaming through the delicate lace curtains roused me from a surprisingly restful sleep.

As my senses fully awoke, I became acutely aware of the unfamiliar surroundings once more. Stretching languidly, my fingertips brushed the lavish silk sheets enveloping me, a sharp contrast to the mundane beddings I was used to. For some reason, my thoughts instantly sought Logan.

Dragging myself out of the decadence of the bed, I wrapped a robe around my form and cautiously made my way downstairs.

The scent of freshly baked bread and sizzling bacon tantalizingly teased my senses as I entered the dining room. A sumptuous breakfast was spread out before me on the long table, yet Logan’s seat was conspicuously empty.

Puzzled, I glanced around. “Logan?” I called out tentatively, half-expecting him to appear from around a corner. Instead, a stately middle-aged woman, her hair neatly pulled into a bun, appeared through the swinging kitchen door. Mrs. Wentworth.

“Ah, Miss Ella,” she greeted warmly. “Mr. Logan had to step out for some urgent business, but he instructed us to make sure you had a hearty breakfast.”

A tinge of worry prickled my heart. “Is he alright? Did something happen?”

The housekeeper, with an amused twinkle in her eyes, reassured me. “It’s nothing dangerous, dear. Just routine matters. He’s always running off at odd hours.”

My pride prickled. “I wasn’t worried,” I retorted, attempting to sound nonchalant. “I was just… curious, that’s all.”

The housekeeper’s eyebrows shot up in playful disbelief, and her lips twitched in an amused smirk. “Of course, dear. It’s merely curiosity.”

Huffing in mock exasperation, I took a seat and started on the meal that was waiting for me. It was every bit as delicious as it looked, and reminded me of being at home, when our housekeeper Selina would make hearty breakfasts for us. The array of food ranged from soft scrambled eggs and crispy bacon to fresh fruits and aromatic pastries. Each bite was a delightful play of flavors, and I took my time savoring the meal.

Finishing the last morsel on my plate, I leaned back in the chair, thoroughly satisfied. “Please extend my compliments to the chef. It was an amazing breakfast.”

The housekeeper gave a nod, her earlier teasing demeanor replaced with a more formal air. “I will. Mr. Logan has ensured you’ll be taken home safely. One of our drivers will escort you.”

“Thank you,” I replied, a smile playing on my lips. My heart still echoed with traces of last night’s events, and a small part of me, probably Ema, wished that Logan was here.

The sensation of weightlessness enveloped me as I fell into the realm of sleep, my first night back in the comfort of my own bed. A bed that didn’t boast silk sheets or antique headboards, but it was mine. Exhausted, my body eagerly welcomed the respite.

But what I had thought would be a peaceful slumber turned into a twisted dance of horrifying scenes.

In my nightmare, I found myself back in that accursed subway car, its metal walls closing in as the masked men reached for me. Panic surged through my veins, and I felt myself paralyzed, unable to scream or fight back. Just as their cold, ungloved hands were about to touch my skin, the scenario shifted abruptly.

Now I was in another setting, equally horrifying but for different reasons. Before me stood Daisy, my innocent little sister, her eyes wide with terror. And standing menacingly over her was Harry, Logan’s dangerous, unpredictable brother.

In a flash, a wicked grin stretched across his face before he lunged at her. A scream tore through the air, one that didn’t belong to Daisy or me, but was a guttural mix of both.

I woke with a start, my breaths coming in ragged gasps as a cold sweat clung to me. My heart pounded wildly against my ribcage as if trying to free itself from the horrors of my mind. A shrill scream still lingered on my lips, dying away as reality settled in.

I was in my room, in my bed. It was just a dream. A terrible, horrendous dream. Almost instinctively, my hand reached for my phone on the bedside table. I unlocked it, my thumb hovering over Logan’s contact, ready to hit send. But I hesitated. What was I doing?

My inner wolf snarled softly, irritated. “Why are you hesitating? He would want to know. You should call him.”

“No.” I put my phone back down, my hand retracting as if the device had scalded me.

This wasn’t healthy. Depending on Logan for emotional support for nightmares? Where would the line be drawn? Was I really prepared to tie my emotional well-being to a man I barely knew? No matter how intoxicating his presence was, or how much my wolf craved the bond with him, it didn’t justify this overwhelming urge to rely on him.

Ads by Pubfuture

The wolf within me growled in displeasure. “You’re pushing him away too much, Ella. We’re not alone anymore, and you have to get used to that.”

“I said no,” I retorted out loud, trying to silence my wolf’s disapproving murmurs. “It was just a nightmare, and nightmares pass. We’ve handled far worse, haven’t we?”

“He wants to help. Why won’t you let him?”

“Because I’m not a damsel in distress,” I shot back, forcing my inner wolf into submission. “I can take care of myself, and I don’t need to run to Logan every time something goes awry in my head.”

My wolf simmered down, a reluctant acquiescence that felt more like a sulking child than an adult agreement. She wasn’t thrilled, but she wasn’t challenging me anymore either. I lay back down, my eyes staring at the ceiling, still reeling from the residual fear of my nightmares.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I closed my eyes again, the darkness embracing me like an old friend with whom I had a complicated relationship.

As I drifted back to sleep, I made a conscious choice to set aside my troubling dreams and my wolf’s annoying nudges. Right now, all I wanted was the simple bliss of uninterrupted rest, without the intricate webs of emotions that came with the idea of Logan.

But even as I willed myself to sleep, a quiet voice in the back of my mind couldn’t help but wonder-would calling him have really been so bad?

A few days had passed since that unexpected night at Logan’s mansion. The routine of work once again consumed my life. Though the lines between professional and personal had blurred considerably where Logan was concerned, I was determined to maintain a semblance of normalcy.

At work, while engrossed in my tasks, a sharp knock sounded on my office door. Without waiting for my response, a tall, impeccably dressed courier entered, a sealed envelope in one hand and a box in the other.

“Miss Ella?” he inquired politely.

I nodded. “That’s me. How can I help you?”

“These are for you,” he said, placing the items on my desk with a flourish.

Confused, I took the envelope and tore it open, finding Logan’s familiar handwriting inside.

Ella,

An unexpected luncheon has come up, one I cannot avoid. I’d like you there by my side. Dress nicely. I’ll be picking you up soon.

– Logan