Page 24 of My Forbidden Billionaire
“Fate, perhaps.”
Josephine’s lips curve into a sly smile. “Perhaps you’re right,” she whispers and comes a few steps closer to me.
“Though I must say, while I understand your love of reading, I didn’t expect Matilda to be your story of choice.”
I chuckle softly. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, Miss Andrews. I have an appreciation for all kinds of literature. But there’s just something about Matilda that draws me in.” I pause, giving her a meaningful glance. “Maybe it’s the way she overcomes the obstacles that are stacked against her. Or the way she uses her intelligence to outsmart those who would underestimate her. Either way, I find her to be an inspiring character. Clem and I read it together a few months back.”
Josephine’s eyes widen in surprise. “You two read books together? That’s so sweet.”
“It’s a part of our nightly tradition. If I’m honest, it can be challenging sometimes to balance work with parenting. So, I’ve always made it a priority to bond with her over a bedtime story.”
Josephine nods, understandingly. “I can imagine it’s not easy being a single parent. But it’s obvious you’re an amazing father—Clem is evidence of that.”
I smile at her compliment. “Thank you, I try my best.”
Josephine leans in closer, her scent intoxicating. “You’re doing a remarkable job, Jacob. Clem is lucky to have a father like you.”
I feel my face flush with heat at her words, and I try to cover it up with a laugh. “Well, I’ll try not to let it go to my head. I don’t want to get too full of myself.”
Josephine giggles, and it might be the cutest sound I’ve ever heard.
“Daddy! Daddy! Look … Oh, hi, Miss Andrews!” Clementine emerges from the sea of students.
“Hello, darling! What do you have there?”
“I got an A on my chemistry test! Miss Harris said I did amazingly well!”
She shoves the test in my hands and then, to my complete surprise, turns around and hugs Josephine. They hold on to each other for a few moments while Josephine compliments Clem and pats her back. “What did I tell you? Didn’t I say that you shouldn’t be nervous? There you go!”
“You’re right!” Clem replies and they high five. “Daddy, we have to celebrate. Can we go to that ice cream place where they put the pink sprinkles on top?”
“Of course, we can,” I reply, still stunned by the intimate interaction between my daughter and Josephine.
“Alright, then I will leave you to it,” Josephine says and smiles sweetly.
For a moment, I consider if I should ask her to come with us, or if Clem might like that. But Josephine answers that question before I even have a chance to address it.
“I need to get home. I have about sixty, long essays to go through from the seniors. And let me tell you … half of them are from girls who have a crush on that vampire from Twilight—even though we don’t study that book in school—and the other half are from boys who want to know why we can’t study Marvel Comics in class. I have my work cut out for me.” She laughs.
“Wow … I have to say, as a parent at this school, I really thought that the best private school in America was, well … the best,” I joke.
“It is! But it’s not the school, it’s the students, Mr. Carlton. They never change. You will soon find that out for yourself, just give Clem a few more years,” she says.
I watch her leave and head back inside the school, following the old stone steps, still in awe over the way she and Clem got along just now.
Josephine cares about my daughter’s well-being, even outside of literature class.
That thought alone makes my heart skip a beat.
Clem and I climb into the back seat of the limousine, relaxing on the soft leather seats.
“Daddy, what’s Twilight?”
I amble through the house, my feet echoing quietly on the wooden floor. It’s 9 PM and Clem is fast asleep, so I figured now is as good a time as ever to get caught up on some work.
As I enter my study, I switch on the light and draw back the curtains. In front of me is a large, mahogany desk with leather accents and two plush, red armchairs positioned in front of it. Photos of Clementine adorn the bookcases and shelves that fill three walls of the room.
I take a seat at my desk and begin to sift through the papers scattered across its surface. As I work, my mind keeps wandering back to Josephine. The way she carries herself, the sound of her voice, her quick wit and intelligence, her captivating smile ... even the way she smells—like a mix of lavender and vanilla—drives me crazy in the best way.