His Nanny Mate By Eve Above Story

Chapter 8 Sleeping Potion

Moana

After the entire debacle on my first night of employment, my first week went by smoothly and without a single hitch. Ella was a sweet little girl to take care of, and she caused very little trouble, if any at all. In fact, by the end of my first week, I started to feel a little guilty for accepting such a high salary for such an easy job and started helping Selina and the maids around the penthouse when I wasn’t busy with Ella. Helping out with cleaning, cooking, laundry, and grocery shopping not only made me feel better about accepting the salary, but also made me feel less bored when I had nothing else to do. It didn’t make Selina and the maids any more friendly toward me, but it certainly seemed to soften their demeanors a tiny bit as the days marched on.

I also kept a distant, but polite, relationship with Edrick. He wasn’t around very often, usually only coming home late at night, so it was easy to keep a distance.

I started to notice a strange occurrence, though. There was a drawer in the kitchen that Selina would periodically open using a small key; I didn’t pay it much mind, just assuming that it was something private, but I was helping out with peeling potatoes in the kitchen one afternoon while Ella was busy with her violin lesson when I noticed Selina come in with a paper pharmacy bag. I watched quietly as she discreetly opened the bag, unlocked the drawer, and dumped the contents of the bag into the drawer.

“Selina! Can you help me?” Amy suddenly called from the other room. She sounded like she was struggling to carry something heavy.

“Coming,” Selina replied. She left the empty paper bag on the counter and scurried away, inadvertently leaving the drawer open.

I tried to focus on peeling the potatoes, but I was nothing if not a curious person — probably a trait I picked up during my upbringing at the orphanage — and couldn’t help myself from quietly sneaking over to the mysterious drawer.

My brows knit together when I opened it to reveal bottles upon bottles of pills.

“Ambien…” I whispered to myself as I picked up one of the bottles and read the label. Why were there so many sleeping pills in this drawer?

“Ahem.”

pills in my hand and watching in horror

sorry,” I

sighed and stooped to pick up the bottle. She brushed past me

rushed voice. “I just saw you left the

small key into her apron pocket. “I suppose it was only a matter of

over to the oven. She slipped a quilted oven mitt onto her hand and pulled out a steaming loaf

ask who it’s for?” I asked.

years now,” she replied, her back still turned to me as she turned the loaf pan upside down and let the fresh loaf of bread inside plop down onto the cutting board. “His doses lately have been getting stronger. I’m not sure if the pills even help him at

not good for his body,” the maid, Lily, said as she shuffled into the kitchen with a basket of clean linens. “Those pills are too strong. And, they’re addictive. I blame it

growled, whipping around to glare at

before continuing her

was, and returned to peeling the potatoes as I thought about Edrick. Every time I had talked to him since I met him, he never seemed overly tired — and, now that I thought of it, he had

…

the chance to witness Edrick’s sleep deprivation firsthand

not one, not two, but three bedtime stories before she finally fell asleep halfway through the third story, so I was up much later than usual. Normally I would be tucked away in my bedroom by the time with my headphones on, listening to quiet music while I drew in my sketchbook on my balcony, which meant that I rarely bumped

I was walking back to my room, however, I heard the sound of glass breaking in the living room, followed by a muffled

frowning down at the floor. He had his laptop balancing in one hand

me enter, he jerked his head up to look at me. His face looked sickly and pale. There was something else behind his

He was drunk.

you need help?” I

shook his head. “It’s alright. The maid will clean

past him to retrieve a towel and the broom from the kitchen. “Nonsense,” I said, ushering him out of the way when I returned. I bent down in front of him to wipe the wine

on his heel toward the kitchen.

surprise, and guided him over to the sofa. “Sit here,” I said sternly, as

didn’t protest as I went into the kitchen to get him another glass — but as I got out the wine glass and lifted the half-empty bottle to pour, I decided against it and instead filled a glass with fresh, cold

“This isn’t wine.”