Orgasm rips through my body, and I come in hard, uneven jerks, spilling white liquid across white tile. It slips into the water stream and swirls down the drain.

I’m panting.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I mutter to myself.

Nothing good.

That young woman has an entire future ahead of her. That has nothing to do with a broke down billionaire who’s practically living like a hermit. Would still be living like a hermit if it weren’t for Paige. She’s the only reason I’m moderately civilized these days.

That’s really an overstatement of the situation. I’m mostly feral.

I blow out a breath and towel off outside the shower.

When I lay back in bed, I pick up my phone. It’s glowing from some text messages. Mateo. My oldest friend. We’d been chatting on and off all day. I scan his last texts, something about a new Netflix original series he’s being considered to do.

Sorry, I text back. Parenting duty called.

It’s 3 in the morning. Doesn’t she have a bedtime?

Bad dream. She’s been having them. Dreams where her mother and father are still alive. Where they’re still in danger. Where they’re out on a boat, unable to get back to shore.

Which means a sea shanty probably wasn’t the best song to sing.

It was the only one I knew. The Rochesters weren’t a loving family, even at the best of times. There were no lullabies, only the hauling of lobster and the shouting of bills unpaid. I know better than to complain. Other people had it worse. People like Jane had it worse.

An orphan, the same as Paige. But different. At least Paige has family. She has me.

A sad excuse for family, but I’ll do my best.

Can I help? Mateo texts this, and I run a hand over my face. We’re both clueless bachelors who have no business raising a child, but it’s been good to have someone to bounce ideas off of. It was his idea to contact the Bassett Agency. They source a lot of nannies for the famous actors and celebrities he knows in LA.

We’re okay, I think. The nanny started working.

How’s that going?

I just finger fucked her in the hallway. I just jerked off in the shower while dreaming about fucking her. That’s how it’s going, but I’m not going to text any of that to my good friend. He would bust my balls, as he should. That’s not why I’m keeping it secret, though.

It feels private, what happened between me and her.

Which is the scariest part of all.

Fine, I say instead. Paige seems to like her.