Nanny For The Billionaire's Baby

DOMINIC POV:

“I can’t work in these conditions any longer, Mr. Presley,” Suzanne, the nanny I hired said as she adjusted her rumpled robe. Her voice was barely audible over the screaming of my newborn son, Harry.

Suzanne had been Harry’s nanny for a month. I had never known children had such a hard time keeping down baby formula until last week. Harry had shown signs of being colic three weeks after his birth. He woke up every hour crying due to hunger pains. Yet, when he was fed formula, it just came back up again.

I had tried three brands of formula in the past week alone.

And now Suzanne couldn’t stand the ‘working conditions’ and quit on the spot. I was left alone with my son in my arms. I sat down on the rocking chair and begged whatever god was up there that Harry could keep some of the formula down.

Thankfully, he drank part of the bottle out of sheer hunger and fell asleep without any of it coming back up. I looked at the bottle and realized Harry had drunk less than an ounce. Far from what he needed to gain weight.

At least, he had fallen asleep. I gently laid him down in the bassinet and hung my head in defeat.

I was nearing thirty, and when I saw my peers perfectly content with their small families, I wanted nothing more than to have a child of my own. Yes, the pregnancy was unplanned. But I was thrilled when I found out I was having a son. Now, as I watched my son waste away in front of my eyes, I wondered if it was all my fault that he was suffering.

What use was all the money I earned when it couldn’t even buy my son food he could keep down?

The pediatrist said Harry was ‘failing to thrive’… Like it was a choice he was making at the age of one month old. I wanted to punch his face in.

Harry was born prematurely, weighing less than ideal. And now, he was losing weight rapidly. The doctor wanted to check on him in a week, if not less. And if there was no progress on the food situation, Harry would be hospitalized.

He also suggested that Camille, Harry’s biological mother, considered breastfeeding as an option.

I jumped at the suggestion. There was something that could help my son!

But no sooner had I brought the concern up to her, she shot it down without me completing the sentence.

“Dominic, you’ve lost your marbles if you think I’ll allow that,” Camille laughed without a care in the world. “Do you know how long it took me to get this shit from leaking everywhere? It was ruining all my clothes, and now you want me starting again? No way in hell!” She rolled her eyes before continuing, “I already allowed your kid to ruin my abs, and now you want me to wreck my boobs, too?”

Maybe it was the countless sleepless nights that chipped away my rationality. Maybe it was the lack of concern she showed me repeatedly that made me lose patience with her. But the words that came out of my mouth were horrid.

“Camille, I paid for those tits,” I yelled back in anger. “I think I have a right to say something.”

She stiffened in surprise. I never spoke to her that way. She recovered quickly, her lips curling over her teeth in a sneer. “I’ve paid you back for them.” She cocked her head to the side. “Like carrying your child for nine months wasn’t enough… Didn’t you get enough enjoyment from them when I let you do nasty things to my body?”

“Let me?” I asked incredulously. “Camille, he is our son!”

“Well, I didn’t want him!” she hissed. Again, she rolled her eyes. “I warned you that I don’t have any maternal instincts, and you pushed me to keep the baby. You can’t turn back and stress me out now. So, I am going on a trip to relax and recover from giving birth to ‘it.’ There is a clinic in Austin that specializes in getting post-partum back in shape.”

Camille had been concerned about the way she looked. I might sound shallow, but that was the first thing that attracted me to her. The first time we met, I couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. She had been a model since her teenage years and transitioned into acting in her early twenties. Even pregnant, she had worked out diligently to keep herself from ‘blowing up.’ And those were her words.

No matter how amazing everything said she looked, she stared at her body in the mirror and grumbled. Her body had changed throughout the pregnancy, and she hated it.

I understood her feelings… I did.

But I thought she looked like a goddess. Her job was demanding. The camera added five pounds automatically, so she preferred being underweight to look good on screen. The pregnancy had given her some healthy curves. It looked amazing on her. Yet, she complained that I ruined her beautiful body.

This woman, whom I had loved, was carrying my child. Her body changed every day, and it scared her. She was suffering from all the burdens of the pregnancy, while I could only support her from the sidelines.

How I wish I could take her pain away.

Part of it was guilt. I had talked her into keeping the child. I convinced her that giving birth and being a family woman would boost her career. I was incredibly selfish, yes.

But it had boosted her career. I had made it up, trying to save my baby from the fate she had planned. If the condom hadn’t broken, there would have been no child, but it did break. And I couldn’t throw away the gift from the universe.

In front of the flashing lights, Camille pretended to love the change. The audience thought we were soulmates. She was a successful actress with projects lined up throughout the year and a supportive fiancé by her side. I was a young billionaire who had built everything from scratch.

Yes, we were engaged. Her publicist had arranged the publicity stunt to stabilize her image as the billionaire’s wife. I went along with it, hoping it would change her mind about being a mother and wife. If it appeased her and made her confident, I would go to any lengths.

She didn’t give a damn.

She gave birth high on who-knows-what. Then, when her child needed her the most, she turned a blind eye and planned to take time away. I argued with her to stay, but her being gone had made the past couple of days easier.

Harry’s first month on Earth was difficult, but at least I didn’t have to deal with Camille on top of that. My sister, an angel, was coming over to help. She and I had built a company together and done good for ourselves despite where we started. She liked to stay out of the public eye just like me.

Well, I had stayed out of the public eye until I met Camille. Now, I had a trophy wife and a nanny while I lived in a multi-million-dollar mansion. And this nanny was going to quit in the morning.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, knowing I needed some rest before Harry inevitably awoke in an hour. My head had barely touched the pillow before I was out.

I awoke to the sound of my sister talking in soft tones.

“Oh, Dominic,” Leigh cooed. “He is beyond adorable. Aren’t you, Harry? Aren’t you?”

I opened my eyes, shocked that he wasn’t crying. It was a rare moment in his short life when he was awake and not crying. His blue eyes sparkled as he looked around the room.

“He’s so tiny, though,” she added. “Is he still unable to keep any formula down?”

“Yeah. He can’t even keep an ounce down…”

Harry sensed that we were talking about food and turned his head to nuzzle Leigh’s blouse.

She chuckled. “Sorry, buddy, those dried up years ago. You’re not getting any milk from them.”

Leigh already had two daughters above the age of eight and done nursing.

I brushed past her to prepare Harry’s formula, hoping he could keep it down like he had last night. And since he only threw up a little, I was optimistic that I had finally found a brand of formula that worked for Harry.

I handed Leigh the bottle, and she happily brought it to his mouth. He latched on immediately, suckling aggressively. Not even five minutes had passed before it all came back up, staining Leigh’s blouse.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry,” I rambled as I handed her the rag to clean up.

Leigh smiled softly and shook her head. “Mess is a part of having babies. This is not the first time.” Her smile dropped when Harry started crying. She held my crying son in her arms and rocked him gently, hoping to soothe him. “Is he throwing up every time?”

I nodded as I stared at his tiny body with concern. “Almost every time. Last night he didn’t, and I was sure the formula suited him. I guess not…”

Leigh was perplexed. “Why isn’t Camille nursing him?”

I stared at her mutely, unsure how to answer. Sensing my reluctance, she changed the topic.

“I wish I could nurse you, buddy,” she said, bouncing him slightly, causing him to settle down. A minute passed, and he fell into a lull. She eyed him carefully before her eyes brightened with an idea.

“How about we buy breast milk for Harry?”

I stared at her in shock. “You can buy breast milk?”