Love Unwritten (Lakefront Billionaires, #2)

by Lauren Asher

ELLIE

The journalist goes on to boast about Ava’s successful first album, which shot her to stardom and won Album of the Year. It was an album I helped cowrite, although the public doesn’t know since my name was never listed in the production credits. The dull pain in my chest returns, all thanks to the invisible dagger Ava embedded in my back a year ago. “Everything okay?” I look up and find myself pinned in place by a pair of rich brown eyes. The color and deep undertones might be warm and welcoming, but the man they belong to is anything but. After working for Rafael Lopez as his son’s live-in nanny for eight months, I thought I would’ve gotten used to his intimidating gaze, but it still holds the same power over me now as it did when I first met him.

Hot single dad with more emotional baggage than London Heathrow Airport during Christmas? Check. Brilliant tech billionaire who teamed up with his cousin to create Dwelling, the most popular real estate app on the market? Painfully cliché yet impressive nonetheless, so check, check. A philanthropist with a life mission to find and rescue mistreated animals before fostering them in his backyard barn? Triple check and triple threat.

Whatever silly spark of attraction I felt toward him since we were teenagers no longer mattered once I was hired as his son’s nanny. While it was difficult at first to ignore the way my heart raced whenever my old high school crush looked at me, it only took a few encounters to ruin the fantasy I’d created in my head about the lonely Lake Wisteria single dad.

He shifts in place on the other side of the kitchen island, casting a shadow over the marble countertop. “What’s wrong?” I jerk back. “Why are you asking?” He scratches at the thick, short beard that covers half his face and neck. “Does it matter?” Kind of, seeing as he has never bothered asking me before. So rather than open myself up to being vulnerable, I stick to the status quo. “I’m fine.” I shut my laptop with a surprising amount of self-control. “If you’re going to lie to my face, then at least look me in the eyes while doing so.” “I am not lying.” I drag my gaze away from his. “Good try. Now do it again without breaking eye contact. That ought to convince me then.”

His eyes narrow. “Are you picturing my murder again?” “In graphic detail.” “Poison?” “Asphyxiation.” His eyes have a rare glimmer to them. “Switching it up?” “Nico suggested it.” “My son is giving murder advice now?” “Are you seriously surprised? His favorite comic book is about a villain.” His mouth curls a fraction of a centimeter.

“You smiled!” “No.” His lips press into a thin line, but it’s too late. “I know what I saw.” I bite back my grin as I walk over to the magnetic dry-erase board attached to the fridge and add a tally below the pinned photocopy of his high school superlative page. I was only a freshman when he was a senior, but everyone knew who Rafael Lopez was. The Wisteria High student body was obsessed with him, including me, although I’d deny it until my dying breath.

The photo is evidence that even the brightest stars can fade away, becoming a fraction of what they once were.

hundred pieces,” Rafael says to my back. “Do that, and I’ll replace it with one of your baby ones.” I cap the dry-erase marker and return it to its spot above the board. His eyes narrow. “What are you talking about?” “Turns out your aunt has a whole collection of photo albums dedicated to you.” He blinks twice. “She showed you those?” “Yup. Right before she brought out some old home videos.” My gaze flicks over him. “For someone so surly and antisocial, you sure wanted to be the center of attention when you were younger. But who could blame you with that karaoke machine of yours?”

“No one asked you to go that hard on singing the Spice Girls. That much I can guarantee.” His blush quickly spreads to the rest of his face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I pull out my phone. “I have a video of it in here somewhere that could jog your memory. Just give me a second…” “You filmed it?” “Obviously. Whenever Nico and I are having a bad day, you dressed up as Sporty Spice always makes us laugh.” “I was an athlete.” “Who also knew every lyric to ‘Wannabe.’”

“Remind me why I put up with you?” “Because you love your son more than you dislike me.” A long crease appears on his forehead. “I don’t dislike you.” “But do you like me?” His palm brushes over his short beard. “I’m still deciding.”

“Ellie!” My phone slips from my grasp as Nico shouts my name from the opposite side of the house. It clatters to the floor, and I curse with a hiss as I bend over to pick it

The base of my neck tingles, and I peek over my shoulder to find Rafael’s gaze focused on my ass. Oh my God. Why is he checking me out?

Nico calls my name again, and his impatience becomes my saving grace. “Coming!” I rush toward the kitchen exit. “Eleanor?” Rafa’s deep timbre has me turning in place. A shiver rolls down my spine as I turn to face the grumpy giant across from me. “Why do you insist on calling me that?” I’m surprised he can effortlessly shrug with how much his trap muscles must weigh. I swallow back the urge to say something that could get me fired. “Everyone calls me Ellie.” “I know,” he says after a long pause. “Yet you insist on calling me by my full name for some annoying reason.”

“Ellie!” Nico yells louder this time, deciding for me. “Coming right now!” I take a few steps toward the hallway, only to halt midstride. “Did you need something?” I ask Rafael in a sickly sweet voice. “Not anymore.” He walks over to the fridge and yanks the door open, making the bottles on the side shelves rattle. I don’t take his dismissal personally since he spoke to me more in the last few minutes than he has all week.

People like Rafael don’t mix well with people like me. I feel way too much, and he barely feels at all. Opposites don’t attract, no matter what propaganda teachers spew in fourth-grade science class while distracting kids with magnets.

Despite Rafael having enough money to make his great-great-great-grandkids billionaires one day, he purchased land near the outskirts of Lake Wisteria, far away from the coveted lake and its million-dollar views. At first, I thought he chose this property because he needed space for a barn and the animals that live there, but I’ve since learned the truth. Rafael is hiding from the world.

I find Nico standing beside the elevator Rafael had installed to help his son navigate the three-story house easily, tapping his sneaker against the hardwood floor with an irritated expression on his cute little face. He is taller than other kids his age thanks to his father’s DNA, which gives him the illusion of being older. “What took you so long?” He snatches my hand and pulls me inside the elevator car. “I got distracted.” “By what?” “Your dad smiled.” “Really?” Nico stares at me with eager eyes. That look right there is the main reason I created the smile tracker in the first place, because whether Rafael realizes it or not, his son cherishes his smiles. They’re a symbol of hope and happiness—two things that have been severely lacking in this house as of late, although I haven’t figured out why.

“It’s okay if you lose. I’ll even agree to shared custody.” He hip-checks me with a giggle, and I ruffle his dark hair in retribution. The smile on his face dies as he looks up at me with narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong?” I ask. “Nothing.” His defensive tone catches me off guard. Although I’m used to that kind of tone from his father, I’ve never heard Nico speak like that before. Nico pulls his glasses off with a frown and wipes the lenses with the edge of his blue T-shirt. He always loves to pick out his own outfits, and today’s attire features thick red frames that match his comic book graphic tee and red basketball sneakers.

He gets increasingly frustrated as he struggles with the task, but I refrain from helping him, no matter how much I want to. Like every other eight-year-old kid, Nico wants to be autonomous, especially given the retinitis pigmentosa condition he was diagnosed with about eighteen months ago. According to my late-night Google searches, promoting independence is important, especially as his vision progressively worsens and he gets more frustrated by having to rely on others.

“All good?” I ask. “Yup.” He squints at my face before rubbing his eyes. “You sure?” “Yes.” His harsh tone stuns me as his body brushes against mine on his way out of the elevator, resembling his father so much in that moment. I clear my head with a quick shake. “All right, sir. Take the attitude down a notch before I make you practice the recorder today instead.”

Nico’s gaze bounces between the display wall of string and brass instruments and the drum set before landing on the black grand piano. “Piano.” “Really?” If it weren’t for Rafael insisting that Nico practice the piano and violin at least twice a week, I doubt he’d bother with anything but the drum set. Usually, I have to pry the drumsticks out of his hands. “I want to try something new today.” Nico heads for the bench with a pinched expression that tugs on my heart. I take a seat beside him, ignoring my impulse to ask him what’s wrong. “Show me what you got, little rock star.”

ELLIE

“Can you read with me?” Nico pops out his bottom lip. I stare at the superhero-themed alarm clock on his nightstand. “I’d love to, but it’s late, and you have school tomorrow.” “Please.” He presses his hands together. “I’ll only ask for one story this time. I promise.” I’ve always struggled with saying no to Nico. It’s one of my biggest flaws, especially when it comes to cute little kids who wield puppy eyes and good manners like a superpower.

Compared to all his other toys that lie abandoned around the house until he is ready to play with them again, he takes extra care of the figures Rafael created with his 3D printer. My boss designed and painted them himself, a fact that I try to block from my mind solely because it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, knowing he spent months working on each one for his son. Nico pats the empty spot beside him with a smile.

My brows creep toward my hairline as he passes over the newest edition of his favorite comic book and grabs his braille book instead. I check his temperature with the back of my hand. “Are you sick?” “No.” He pushes me away and yanks his book open hard enough to make the spine crack.

matter how bad it is.” His gaze drops to his fists clutching the comforter in a death grip. “I can’t. Not about this.” I tuck my fingers under his chin and force him to look me in the eyes. “Why not?” “Because I’m scared.” His strained voice can barely be heard over the air conditioning blasting from the vents. “About what?” I wait patiently as he takes a deep breath, only to be disappointed when he stays quiet. “Does it have something to do with your mom?” I ask in my softest voice. He shakes his head hard enough to send water droplets flying off the tips of his hair. “Dad?” His bottom lip trembles as his eyes flood with tears. Oh, shit. What did Rafael do? I bite down on my lip to stop myself from asking that and ten different questions at once. His voice is barely audible as he asks, “You promise not to say anything?”

“Sure.” It takes him another thirty long seconds to speak again, all while my heart beats rapidly. A single tear slips down his cheek. “My vision is getting worse. It’s harder to see in the dark lately, and the tunnel vision is getting narrower.” I feel like I just took a brass-knuckled punch to the gut. “Oh, Nico.” Another tear follows the watery path toward his wobbling chin. “I’m nervous.” “Of course.” I take a deep breath. “Why haven’t you told your dad?” “Because I don’t want to make him sad again.”

I brush his hair out of his eyes. “Your dad would want to know if you’re having trouble.” “No, he wouldn’t.” “Of course he would. Why would you think anything else?” Nico takes so long to answer, I mistakenly think he’s fallen asleep. “He cried at the doctor’s office,” he says with a shaky voice. I freeze. “When?” “In January.” His chin trembles. “I heard him…in the bathroom.” “Are you sure?” He nods. My heart breaks for the two Lopez men, knowing they are suffering in silence when they could be relying on each other.

I give him a squeeze. “It’s okay for people to cry. It’s normal and can be healthy.” “Yeah, but not when you’re the reason.” His gaze drops. “But he wasn’t crying because of you. He was crying for you.” I’m not sure what makes my heart ache more: Rafael having a breakdown about his son’s eye condition or Nico witnessing his father at a rock-bottom low that was meant to be kept private.

At the time, I had no idea why Rafael was crying, but I’ve been able to piece it together after Josefina shared once that the anniversary of his mother’s death lands on December twenty-third. The memory fades as Nico speaks again. “That doesn’t make it any better.” My arms tighten around him. “I’m sorry.” He snuggles into me. “It’s not your fault.” “No, but I am anyway. You’ve been carrying this inside all this time…”

“You’re going to have to tell him about this.” His arms tighten around me. “I will.” “When?” He flinches. “After our trip?” I pull back to get a better look at him. “No. You can’t wait three weeks to tell him about something like this.” “Why not?” “Because he’s your dad. He deserves to know what’s going on with you so he can help.” “Telling him now won’t make a difference.” His shoulders slump like they are single-handedly carrying the weight of the world. “My eyes aren’t ever going to get better.”

“If you’re scared, I could talk to him for you.” A look of pure desperation flashes across his face as his fingers dig into my arm, right over a tiny group of butterfly tattoos. “No! Please, please, please, Ellie. Don’t say anything yet. At least not until after our trip.” “Why do you want to wait?” “Today, he smiled, and yesterday, he laughed!”

“He never laughs anymore.” Nico’s misty eyes make mine tear up as well. “I don’t want to ruin that before our trip.” My deep breath might not calm my heart, but it gives me a moment to clear my head. “I need you to be honest with me and tell me how bad it has gotten since your exam in January.”

I release a heavy breath. “I’ll give you until after your birthday party.” His face turns a sick shade of green. “But that’s in a week!” “It’s either that or we tell him tonight.” It kills me to put my foot down, especially when Nico pouts and says, “I don’t want him to be sad before our vacation.” “That’s fair, but you know it’s the right thing.” His reply is nothing but a deep sigh of resignation. I lift his chin so he can look me in the eyes. “He may be temporarily unhappy, but the trip will help him feel better.” “You think so?” “I know so.” Okay, I may not know for certain, but I’ve never heard a single person say they had a bad time in Hawaii.

“Okay. Fine. I’ll tell him after next weekend.” This mini Lopez is going to be my downfall, because where Rafael is rough around the edges and keeps his heart locked behind a wall of ice, Nico wears it proudly on his sleeve for everyone to see. I would do anything to protect it and him, even if it means making a promise about a secret that isn’t mine to keep in the first place.

RAFAEL

I hate having a nanny in my private space, interfering with my day-to-day life, but for Nico, I’m willing to do just about anything. While I could easily raise my son with my family’s help, Nico needs a motherly figure in his life. He needs Ellie, as much as I hate to admit it.

Usually, I’m not a stickler for bedtimes, but lately, Nico has been acting crankier than usual, and I only have his blond-haired, curfew-breaking nanny to blame. Her soft laugh carries through the door and down the hall, followed by Nico’s airy giggle soon after. That heartwarming sound coming from my son is the only reason I hired someone with no nannying experience and a penchant for driving me insane to begin with.

Music was always Nico’s outlet, so in a desperate attempt to help him, I paid for music lessons at The Broken Chord almost a year ago. At first, Nico gave me a hard time about it. He was quiet and unmotivated to pick up an instrument, but with Ellie’s help, he slowly opened up again. For a solid four months, it felt like Nico and I were finally in a good place together, but then we had another setback at the start of the year. One that I haven’t been able to overcome, no matter how hard I try.

I rarely get an opportunity to look at Ellie without her noticing. Usually, she catalogs my every glance, smile, and comment, making me feel like a research subject lately with that stupid smile tracker of hers. So rather than immediately making my presence known, I conduct a drawn-out assessment of my own. Ellie isn’t one for colorful accessories or frilly, designer-labeled clothes like my cousin’s girlfriend of nine months, Dahlia Muñoz. Nor is she the type to keep up with the latest makeup trend or hairstyle like Lily, the other Muñoz sister. In fact, Ellie does a good job of keeping her personality hidden, dampening it with her limited range of black, white, and gray clothing. I’m surprised that she hasn’t dyed her blond hair to match the Edgy Barbie look she is going for, given how much she favors dark colors.

A deep, inky shade that matches the somber music she plays late at night when she thinks everyone is asleep. She doesn’t know that I listen from the shadows sometimes, but I find it hard to resist the pull I have toward her. Her music speaks to me in a way words never can, and I can’t help being drawn to her in that sense.

“Good God! How long have you been standing there?” I keep my face expressionless despite my escalating heart rate. “Long enough to notice Nico was up past his bedtime.” She stands to her full height. While she is taller than most women in town, she still only reaches my chin without shoes. “We were practicing his braille.” “Surprised you could get much done with all that laughing.” Her eyes narrow. “I’m sure humor is a foreign concept to you, but people tend to laugh when they read something funny.” “You don’t say,” I reply with a dry voice. Whatever she was about to say is cut off by her yawn. “That’s my cue to go to bed.” She attempts to walk past me. Without thinking, I latch on to her elbow before she has a chance to walk around me. The warmth of her skin seeps through the thin barrier of mine, sending a wave of heat up my arm. I want to shake her off and run from the sensation, yet my hold remains strong as I ask, “How’s it going?” “What?” She stares at the goose bumps forming on her skin. I release her and take a long step backward. “How is he doing with the braille practice?”

“Good, although he unfortunately inherited his impatience from you.” I give her a look. “Is he struggling?” “A bit, but we’re working on it. You know, if you have some time to spare, it wouldn’t hurt to practice with him too.”

I’m jealous of the carefree, easygoing connection Ellie has with my son. While I know it’s not fair to hold their bond against her, I can’t help myself. Ellie has what I want and crave. Nico enjoys spending all his free time with her while he pushes me away without an afterthought, making me feel useless and dejected—two emotions I’ve spent decades trying to avoid. “Why don’t you join us for story time tomorrow?”

“I’m by no means an expert either. Whenever I struggle with a word or sentence, I say something ridiculous instead, and it never fails to make Nico laugh.” “Must be nice.” I can barely get my son to talk to me for more than a few minutes, but here Ellie is, making him laugh without trying. Her icy gaze returns with a vengeance. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Nothing. I’d join you, but I already made plans for tomorrow night with Julian.”

“I feel bad for people like you,” she says, stunning me into silence. “You work double-time to keep everyone at a distance because one person gave you a reason to.” More like three people—two of whom brought me into this world. I don’t say that, though. I don’t say anything.

My toxic trait isn’t the fact that I don’t have feelings; it’s that I feel too much, all at once, so I suppress it instead of learning how to cope.

RAFAEL

“Do you want to read a story together before I head out to see Uncle Julian?” “No,” Nico says with a rush. The sharp sting of rejection doesn’t deter me from trying again. “Ellie told me it would be nice for me to practice my braille.” A look of sheer panic flashes across his face. “Why?” “Because I’m not very good?” He releases a long breath. “Oh.” I chalk his unusual reaction up to him being anxious about spending time around me. I grab the book on his nightstand. “What do you say?” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to practice with you.”