The Perfect Mistake (The Connovan Chronicles #2)

by Olivia Hayle

Of course Isabel wants kids. Two. It’s not a surprise, but it still feels like one. Another nail in the coffin of whatever it is we’re doing. She’ll be a fantastic mother one day. It’s easy to picture it, and the image sets off an ache in my chest. That’s still years away, she’d said. When she’s settled and ready. And it’s unlikely I can give her any of that. I barely have enough time as it is, and the thought gives rise to fresh guilt inside me about the possibility of more between us. Of making her mine in every way that counts. Of being someone’s husband again. Of having someone to lose again. And why would she choose me? The fifteen-year difference might feel like nothing now, but if kids are years away for her, I might be in my late forties by that time. It’s impossible. But I can be the man who makes her come, for as long as she’ll let me.

“Who will you marry, honey?” Willa frowns. Clearly her thought process hadn’t extended that far. “He’ll be a prince,” she decides. “So, I’ll be a princess. And my daughters, too.” Isabel laughs. “Really? That’s amazing.” “Who will you marry?” Willa asks. “Oh, I don’t know who. I’m not sure if I’ve met him yet,” Isabel says lightly. “But I don’t think he’ll be a prince. Those are reserved for you. But the most important thing is that he’ll be good.” “Good,” I repeat quietly. She glances at me, a small smile on her lips. “Yeah. I think I’d like that. Caring, protective… and making time for what’s truly important in life.” It sounds like the opposite of me, then. She’s made a point of telling me to do more of the latter. Whoever it is… he better treat her right. Hold her when she’s crying and encourage her dreams. He better know what a treasure she is. “I think,” Willa says loudly, “that it’s better to marry a prince.” I run a hand over my jaw. “Yeah, maybe that’s the key.”

“There’s something on your mind.” I look down at her, at her kind brown eyes filled with questions. They’re the color of chocolate. “Tell me,” she murmurs. I look back at my hand on her legging-clad thigh. “You want kids in the distant future,” I say. She’s quiet for a moment, but then she nods. “Yeah, I think I do.” I keep circling my thumb, watching the movement. “I’ve been thinking about the man who can give that to you. The good man you mentioned before.” “Oh.” “I’ve been thinking about him, and hating his guts,” I say bitterly. Her eyes widen, but I can’t seem to stop. “That’s not the right thing to say, but it’s the truth. That’s who I’ve been thinking about. How you’ll look at him, the way you’d… fuck. How you’ll tell him all your fantasies as you’ve told me, and how he’ll get all of you, your present and your future. How you’ll bear his kids and be a wonderful mother, and this will be nothing but a memory to you. And how it’ll be his bed you sleep in every night.” “Alec,” she whispers. “I know,” I say roughly. “It’s irrational. But that’s what I’ve become, apparently, since the day you stepped into my apartment and flipped my mind inside out.” “Alec,” she says again, and I hate that I love the sound of my name on her lips that much. That I’ve come to crave it, her voice whispering it in my ear or moaning against my chest. “I was talking about you.” My eyes narrow. “What?” “The good man who’s caring and protective?” She digs her teeth into her lower lip, and there’s...

“Sweetheart…” I continue and slide my hand over her cheek. There’s quiet devastation in her eyes, and I hate it, too. I hate that I’ve put it there. “I’m fifteen years too old for you. I’ve got kids, a job that keeps me too busy, and nothing else to offer. You’ve got everything in front of you. An entire beautiful future.” “So do you,” she says. There’s a furrow between her brows, the stubborn refusal that I’ve come to learn is one of her defining traits. It’s restrained, but it’s there, her spine made of steel. “No, I don’t. You just said you want kids. I’ve already had mine. I’ve done all the things you still want to experience.” Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out. There’s no protest against that undeniable fact. “I shouldn’t have touched you that first time.” I trace down her slim neck, over her warm smooth skin that I’ve come to adore. “But I’m a selfish man, a greedy one, and I did. You’ll probably hate me for it by the end, but so help me, I can’t find it in myself to be sorry.” Her lips tip down into a frown. “So, what does this mean?” “It means the same thing it’s always meant.” “Just sex?” she whispers. The words sound like defeat. I hear it, too, and I feel it. I want to be more than just the man who gives her orgasms. More than the man she may recall sometimes, long after she leaves me, more than a memory or a party anecdote. More than a cliché. The boss and the nanny. “Just sex,” I agree. Because I know I can’t be that man for her, no matter how much I wan...

“You’re flirting with someone now?” “Well, it’s not like you’re receptive to flirting,” I shoot back. “You made that clear.” He frowns. “That’s not what I said.” “Yes, that’s exactly what you said.” “I said I can’t give you what you want. Not that I don’t want you.” He fingers the lapels of Todd’s suit jacket thrown over my shoulders. His frown turns into a sneer. “You knew I was watching.” “No, I didn’t. Because you haven’t been paying attention to me all night.” His hand tightens over mine, and he tugs me down the corridor, pushing open the first door he finds. It’s to an office, dark and tidy. He shuts the door behind us. “I’ve only been paying attention to you.” His hands grip the jacket and push it off me, letting it fall to the floor. “Come here.” He kisses me. His lips are hard against mine, determined, and I soften under the onslaught. It’s like a drug, touching him, kissing him. Feeling his arms around me. I wish I didn’t crave it the way I do. “If you’re sleeping with me,” he mutters, his hands sliding down to grip my ass, “you’re not sleeping with anyone else.” “That goes for you, too,” I say. He smells good, like cologne and warm skin. He chuckles against my temple. “I can’t even think about anyone else. There’s only you. There’s only been you for a long time. Even before you became my nanny.” I lean back. “Before?” His gaze drops down to my lips, and his thumb traces along my jaw. “Yes. I tried not to notice it, to notice you… but of course I did. So pretty. I...

“I can’t think when you’re around,” he mutters. He kisses my neck, down to the slim strap of my little red dress. “It’s fucking infuriating.” “What do you think it’s been like for me?” I murmur. There’s not enough air between us, and still far too much. I push my hand inside the tight collar of his shirt, trying to reach his skin. Anything to touch and to get closer. He tugs the strap of my dress down, kissing my collarbone. His lips burn. “I need you all the time,” he admits. “I hate you a bit for that, sweetheart. For making me need someone again.” I run my hand through his hair. “I know. I feel it, too.” “Don’t flirt with other men,” he admonishes. “Then don’t tell me this is just sex.” His lips brush mine. “It’s not just sex,” he says. “And so help me, I don’t want it to be. I do want to make you mine.” I kiss him, and he groans against my lips, his hands tugging at my dress. I help him, ruching the fabric up to my waist. He rests me against the edge of a desk and kisses me so deeply, I can’t catch a breath. “Then do it,” I say, reaching for his belt buckle. “I don’t care if the odds are against us. I just want you.” His breathing is hard, and he shifts to stroke between my legs, over the thin fabric of my panties. “You’re wet.” “Yeah.” “Fuck. Here, let me⁠—” The door opens, and a bright light shines into the darkened space. In the doorway, the illuminated shape of a familiar person. “Isabel?” Connie asks cheerfully. Then she freezes, seeing Alec and me together.

Gabriel is leaning against the kitchen counter. I take one look at his eyes and know Connie’s already told him. My stomach sinks. His gaze is inscrutable, moving from Isabel at my side to me. “Where is she?” I ask. “I’m not sure she wants to talk to you right now,” he tells me. His voice gentles when he turns to Isabel. “She’s in the bedroom upstairs.” “Thanks,” Isabel whispers. She disappears, weaving through party guests to the staircase that leads to the upper floor. I watch her disappear. “So Connie doesn’t want to hear what I have to say.” “Not right now,” Gabriel says. “Your sister’s best friend? Your hired nanny?” I cross my arms. “Like you’re the expert on convenient attraction?” “Touché,” he says. Then he sighs, and the usual smirk turns into something hesitant. “Look, you once told me that… well. Be careful, but not too careful.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” My question comes out harsher than I intended. For all his “Thompsonness,” Gabriel has been nothing but a good husband to Connie these past few months, and I need to trust her judgment. “Look, the two of you? Didn’t see that coming. But I suspect you didn’t see me and Connie happening, either.” He shrugs. “You’re pretty similar to your sister, and I know her well, so I feel like this applies to you, too. Don’t overthink it.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Right. Thanks.” “It’ll make sense to you eventually. Now, do you want to drown your sorrows in another glass of scotch, or escape with your tail between your ...

I close my eyes. Force the thoughts away. Others rise to the surface instead, like my mind can’t handle the vacuum, and each of them is more impossible than the last. Isabel living here. Sleeping beside me every night. Me helping her with her career, listening to her recount her days, making her laugh. She’s amazing when she laughs. I love the way her mind works. What would it be like, to marry again? To be her husband?

“I’m sorry you found out like that,” I say. Her eyes narrow into slits. “Sorry because you wanted to be the one to share the news? Or sorry because no one was ever supposed to know?” Okay. So it’s going to be one of these conversations. Conflict with Connie has always been rare. It wasn’t until earlier this year that she started to show me the fire I’ve seen her display elsewhere. I tap my fingers on the desk. “What did Isabel say to that?” “No,” she says, and her voice hardens. “I’m asking you.” “And I’m not going to answer that question.” “You’re not allowed to go into CEO mode here. This isn’t a business negotiation.” “Isn’t that what you’re doing with me?” I ask her. “You’re doing well, by the way.” She shakes her head. “Look, I’m the one who recommended her to you. I’m the one who insisted on it, and I did it because I knew, or thought I knew, that you’d be a great employer. Tough, yeah. But not one who would take advantage of her.” “I’m not taking advantage of her.” “Yeah, she said the exact same thing,” Connie says. “What more did she say?” But Connie just crosses her arms over her chest. “You can’t fire her if it becomes too inconvenient for you.” I narrow my eyes at her. “I’d never do that.” “Okay. Good. She told me it wasn’t serious between you two.” “She did,” I say slowly. “Right. Good.” “I honestly don’t know if that makes it less or more weird for me,” Connie says. She sighs, and there’s a world of emotions in that sound. “God. I just don’t want you to hurt h...

“It’s fine if you want to move on. Have some fun. I would be your biggest supporter in that case. But did it have to be with my best friend? I trusted you with her! She needs this job and somewhere to stay while healing.” This is much better. “I know. Never meant for it to hurt you,” I say. The words are hard to say. They shouldn’t be, but they are. We don’t often talk like this. But disappointing my little sister is something I’ve done a lot lately. “It’s just so… weird,” she says. She rises from the chair and glances at her watch. “I have the meeting with the marketing team. And to be honest… I don’t know what else to say. Just don’t hurt her, Alec. Be very clear about what you want.” “Because that’s so fucking easy?” I ask dryly. Connie’s eyes widen. She’s quiet for a moment, but then she shakes her head. “No. It’s not. But do it for her sake. She’s already looking at other jobs, and when this ends, just make sure she comes out on top.” I knew she’d been thinking about what career paths to pursue in the future, but actively applying for jobs? That’s news to me. “What else did she say?” I ask Connie again. If it sounds like I’m begging, I’m too far gone to care. “Talk to her instead,” Connie says.

I’d told her we weren’t serious. Tried to downplay it all, even if the truth had hovered on my lips. I think I’m in love with him, but I’m fairly sure that he doesn’t feel the same way.

I’m on the last page when she speaks again. “I’m sorry,” she says. “For what?” “For being rude. When you first got here.” I smile at her. “Oh honey, that’s okay. I imagine it was hard having nannies come in and out of your life. But I appreciate your apology.” She nods. Sighs a little. “I don’t like nannies. But I like you.” “Thank you.” I settle back on the chair and fight the urge to reach out, to stroke her hair. It’s so rare that she’s this sweet and open with me, and it feels like a gift. “Why don’t you like nannies?” She looks at the edge of her comforter, fingers playing with the fabric. “If we didn’t have a nanny, Dad would be home with us.” she says. “He wouldn’t be able to work.” Ah. My heart breaks a little, hearing the conviction in her voice. I shift closer. “Honey, your dad wants to be with you. Both you and Sam. He’d be here all the time if he could. He just has a lot of other people depending on him, and he likes helping them, too.” “Mm-hmm. I know.” “Have you ever told him this?” She shakes her head. “I think he’d be happy to hear how you feel.” “Yeah.” Her fingers weave into the fringes of her blanket. “And if my mom wasn’t dead, she’d be here too. Dad is alone. I know he has to work.” “Yes, that’s true too,” I say carefully. “Do you miss her?” Willa glances over at me quickly before looking up at the ceiling. “Yes. Sometimes I remember her. Sometimes I think… maybe I don’t?” It’s posed as a question, a bit quick and quiet. “That makes sense to me,” I say...

“She told me that you said this isn’t serious.” My heartbeat speeds up. “Yeah. I said that.” “Is that how you feel?” I close my eyes. “Alec,” I murmur, “that’s what you’ve told me. I can’t keep trying to play catch-up.” His thumb strokes up along my cheek, tipping my head back. The tension between us grows with every second that ticks by. “I haven’t been fair to you there either,” he finally says. There’s frustration in his voice. “I’ve tried over and over again to stop thinking about us, and I can’t. It’s fucking impossible. So, you’ll have to be the one who walks away, because I can’t do it. Not even when it’s in your best interest.” “My best interest?” I say. “Being with you is in my best interest.” He shoots me a dark look. “Isabel.” “Why wouldn’t it be?” “Isabel,” he repeats, like my name pains him. “Because you’re meant for greater things. For men your own age, for trips across the world, for new job opportunities. I want you in my bed, but I know you don’t belong there. There are a thousand reasons why. A thousand and one. Because I doubt your parents will approve of a man my age. Because I have two kids, and you’re too young to be a stepmother. I’m torn over time as it is and there’s never enough of it to do things right. And I’m shit at this… relationships, feelings, connection. “But I’ve also never felt like this before, and that’s why I can’t walk away. God help me, I want us. But wanting doesn’t mean I’m going to be perfect at this. At us. And I can’t bear it i...

“You said that you’ve tried to be perfect for twenty years?” “Yeah,” I murmur. “Well, I’ve done it for twice that long,” he says. “And the last few years, I’ve been failing in every possible way. I suspect I’ll fail with you, sweetheart, and that pains me more than I can say. But I’ll handle it. Because stopping this…” He kisses me, his lips brushing over mine in the faintest of touches. “It would kill me. You’ve become my happiness, Isabel.” I slide my hands up to his neck. “Then don’t stop.” “Don’t leave,” he murmurs against my lips. His voice sounds hoarse. “Promise me you won’t without talking to me.” “I promise,” I whisper.

“Hello,” she says. “You’re our shine in knighting armor.” “Knight in shining armor,” Isabel corrects.

“Mac will drive you,” I say. “He’ll drive you everywhere from here on out, especially if you’re going out at night.” There’s silence in the backseat. “That’s a kind offer,” Isabel finally says. A kind offer? I want to swaddle her up in bubble wrap and never let her out of my sight again. Mac driving her around isn’t kind. It’s for my own goddamned sanity.

“See if you can call your banks. Cancel all your cards.” “Shit, you’re right,” Elena says. “Well, if they wanted money, they chose the wrong person to rob. My checking account was already in the red.” Isabel chuckles, but it sounds weak. “Yeah.” Fuck that. I’ll ask her what money they stole, and I’ll pay it all back. To both of them. Those motherfuckers won’t leave a lasting mark.

“Wow. You do pretty well for yourself,” she tells me. I slide my gaze to hers. “I manage.” “I can see why my sister likes living here. Damn. Is that a fireplace?” “Yes.” “Okay, my joke just got a hundred times better. Robbed by New York lowlights, only to be picked up another kind of robber. A New York billionaire.” She smiles. “That’s a joke, by the way. This is me testing the waters. To see if you’re okay with a bit of sarcasm?” I blink at her. “Yeah. That was a great joke.” “See, now I can’t tell if you’re serious or not.” “He’s serious,” Isabel says, coming up to her sister’s side. “I just don’t think he’s in the same adrenaline-filled, giggly mood we’re in. Come on, let me show you my room.”

“I’m thinking that I should have driven you there and back myself.” “Alec,” she whispers. “You have the kids.” I shake my head slowly. “I know, and I always will. But that doesn’t change a thing. I should’ve been there.” “You can’t be everywhere.” “I need to be. I have to be.” Her hand settles on my cheek. “Why?” My hands turn to fists, resting against her lower back. “Because I can’t have anything happen to you.” Her lips part on a surprised exhale. “I see,” she murmurs. “Caring about someone is… terrifying. I get it.” “Terrifying is an understatement.” “You’re angry?” “I’m fucking furious,” I say. “The guys who did this… I want to wring their necks. Lock them away and throw away the key.” “You don’t mean that,” she whispers. I release her, and she sinks down on the couch beside me. I’m feeling too much too fast, and I don’t know why. Don’t know why it feels hard to breathe. “Yes, I do.” “Why?” she asks. Sitting there, just watching me and looking so painfully good and sweet. Like she wants to understand. The idea of someone hurting her, of her being gone, makes my throat close up. I push off the couch. Walk around the coffee table, and then back, my movements frantic. “Alec,” she says softly. “What are you feeling?” “She just died!” I say. The words explode in the quiet room. Her eyes widen. “Oh.” “One hour she was alive and well, and the next, she was gone.” I snap my fingers. The sound echoes in the space between us. “No warnings, no goodbyes. I barely handled it the f...

“You knew my number by heart?” I ask. “I memorized it when I started working for you,” she says. “It’s in the nanny contract you had me sign, to make sure I could always contact you on behalf of the kids.” “Oh. That’s good. Smart.” She smiles against my shoulder. “Yeah. I take it you weren’t even aware of that.” “I read it, but that was years ago. Come here. I need you,” I say against her hair. “More than I’ve ever needed anyone. But…” “I get it.” Her cheek is pressed against my shoulder, her voice a soft mumble. “It means you could end up hurt again. Just like I might.” Slipping a hand beneath her tank top, my palm flattens against the smooth skin of her back. “Yes.” “That risk is the price we pay for caring about someone,” she says. “Are you willing to pay it?”

I don’t know if I can handle the pain of losing her. But I can’t let her go, either.

“You’re telling me to ignore what people think?” “Yes,” she says immediately. “Even me. What I said earlier about Alec being old? So what if I think that? What do you think?” I smile. “Mom and Dad will really freak, if this becomes a serious relationship.” “They will,” she says matter-of-factly. “At least at first. But then, I’m sure it’ll end up being another thing you overachieve in. Seb and I might just date around, or find normal partners, but not Isabel. You just had to land a billionaire.” I chuckle. “That’s never been why I like him.” “I know,” she says. “It’s not your style. But you simply can’t help outperforming the rest of us, anyway. Don’t worry.” Her hand grips mine over the bedcover. “I love you, even if you’re annoyingly perfect.” I grip her hand back. “I love you, too, and you’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Let Isabel or me know directly how much money they took from you,” he tells her when they say goodbye. “I’ll solve it.” She just shakes her head, but she’s smiling. “Okay, you really are rich.” “I really am,” he deadpans. “I also want to help Isabel, and that includes her family. I’m sorry this happened to you.” “I appreciate it,” she says. Then she turns to me with a wink. “Okay. I’m starting to get it.” I shake my head at her. “Get in the car.” “Yes, ma’am.”

“Just because I might have a different job,” she says softly, “doesn’t mean we have to stop seeing one another.” No, it doesn’t. I’ll be here for as long as she wants me. Stolen nights in hotels when I have a babysitter. Dinners, if she’ll let me take her out on the few nights I might be free. I want to send her flowers when her studio opens and the lavish gifts she’ll never buy herself. Drape her in diamonds and cushion her in luxury. Keep finding new ways to make her come. But the fear won’t leave me. That when she’s out of this apartment, when she starts to rebuild a life for herself, she’ll want more than that. A boyfriend her own age. A man without kids, a man who wants more kids, and a man who won’t one day be fifty when she is gloriously thirty-five. “No, it doesn’t,” I say.

“Daddy,” Willa says. “Why are you kissing Isabel?” My mind goes blank. It has disintegrated entirely, and I can only stare at my children with a sinking feeling in my gut. They’re the most important thing in my life. I’ve never introduced them to a woman. Never even raised an idea of me and another woman, other than their mother. “Come on, kids,” Katja says. She has a no-nonsense tone in her voice, and I have no idea what she’s thinking of me at this very moment. “Let’s leave the grown-ups to finish their conversation.” “But they weren’t talking!” Sam protests. I run a hand over my face. “It’s fine. Thank you, but come on in, kids. Let’s talk about it.” Beside me, Isabel shifts from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. The apology makes my stomach sink even further. “Don’t,” I tell her. She’s done nothing wrong.

“Okay,” I say. “What are your questions?” Sam climbs up on the bed next to me. Willa drifts toward Isabel instead, who’s taken a seat on her desk chair. My daughter rocks from side to side. “Does this mean you’re going to marry my dad?” she asks Isabel. Isabel glances at me quickly before looking back at my daughter. “Uh, no. It doesn’t mean that.” “So you won’t marry him?” Willa probes. Her voice has a trace of disappointment in it. I clear my throat. “Isabel and I like each other a great deal. But it doesn’t mean that we know what will happen in the future.” Willa doesn’t look impressed with my words. “Will you be our new mom?” Sam asks. Oh, wow. Isabel eyes widen and she looks at me. My stomach twists again. This is too much. This is exactly what I didn’t want to saddle her with, the sort of expectations that might drive a twenty-five-year-old woman with the entire world at her feet away. “Don’t be stupid,” Willa says. “We have a mom. She’s just dead.” “It’s not a stupid question,” I tell Sam. He glances away from his sister to look up at me, his eyes wide and trusting. “But Willa is right. Regardless if I get married again or not, your mom will always remain your mom. She’d be here with you if she could.” He nods. Kicks his legs out. Willa is frowning, though. “Do you still love mommy?” she asks me. Jesus. I brace my arms against my knees and look at my daughter. “Of course. I’ll always love your mom. She was wonderful, and she gave me the two of you.” Willa nods. “Oka...

“Isabel,” Willa says. She’s munching on one of the blueberry pancakes, no syrup, no honey. Just holding it like a cookie. “If you marry Daddy,” she starts, making sure to emphasize the first word, “could you have a baby? I want a sister.” Alec leans his head back against the headboard with a quiet groan. “Willa, we don’t know the future,” he says softly. “I know,” she says happily. “That’s why I said “if.” What do you think?” “Well, I do want children one day, so… maybe?” I say. She nods, looking somewhat mollified. “Okay. Maybe. Just please make it a sister, because I already have a little brother.” Alec runs a hand over his face, and I try not to notice his agitation. It’s the same as last night. “Okay, I’ll try to keep that in mind,” I say, “but it’s the babies who choose what they’ll be, not the parents. No way to affect that.” “I know,” she says again.