Entangled To The CEO

Kristen’s [POV]

I felt an instant connection with the sweet, cherub-faced little four-year-old in front of me. He looked like a miniature version of Jake. He had dark shaggy brown hair and pearly blue eyes. Perhaps the biggest difference was that hope had not abandoned his face like it had his father’s.

Jake’s home was a three-bedroom apartment in one of the city’s nicest apartment buildings. It was spacious and sparsely furnished, which made it seem even bigger. I was pleasantly surprised by how the apartment was decorated. The colors comprised neutrals in earthy tones and light pastels. The furniture was practical and comfortable, and there were plenty of personal items littered around the place.

Almost every wall had picture frames adorning it. The moment I walked into the living room, I noticed the framed picture of Daphne in the center of the main wall. I hadn’t at first looked directly at it because I didn’t want my interest to look suspicious. But once Noah was engrossed in his action figures, I was free to look at it as much as I wanted.

Daphne was wearing her uniform in the posed photograph. She looked strong and commanding and extremely impressive. Her expression was slightly flat, not smiling, but there was a strange expression in her eye, one I couldn’t quite a place. Next to her picture was the framed flag that had no doubt been gifted to Jake and Noah after her death. It made me sad to look at it. The sense of loss that engulfed me was what forced me to turn away at last.

I glanced over at Noah, who was engrossed in his little game. He was a sweet child, and I realized from the first hour I spent with him that he was accustomed to playing alone. I did notice that he liked having me around, though. Whenever I walked over to the kitchen to drink water, he looked up instinctively as though he was aware something was missing.

I thought about Daphne and our strange and unexpected relationship. I remembered the few times we had met and the connection I had felt with her. I was almost certain that connection was one-sided, but a part of me still clung to the naive hope that maybe she hadn’t hated me. I couldn’t believe that this was the first time I was meeting her son.

I looked around some more, but there were no more pictures of Daphne. There were no family portraits, either. Most of the pictures were of Noah involved in different games and different places. It was rare to find Jake in the pictures, too. When he was pictured, his expression was pained, alm

ost as though he had been forced into being photographed.

I wondered how he would react if he knew who I was. He certainly wouldn’t have allowed me to babysit his son. I knew I had crossed a line by taking the job with Jake in the first place, but somehow, I just kept justifying my actions.

“Oww!” Noah exclaimed, pulling me back to the present.

“Oh no,” I said, rushing to his side. “What happened, sweetheart?”

“I cut my finger,” Noah said, scrunching up his face in pain.

“Oh, honey, hold still, let me take a look.”

It was a small scrape on his right hand. There was a little blood, but it was only a surface wound. In a second, his blood would clot, and he would be fine.

“I bet that hurts, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“But I think you’re brave enough to handle it.”

“I am brave,” Noah said quickly. “Just like my daddy.”

“I have no doubt,” I smiled. “Now, come with me, and let’s get you cleaned up.”

I ran his hand under some water and then once it was dry, I covered the scratch with a Band-Aid that had little blue stars all over it. “There we go,” I said. “Good as new.”

“Thank you,” Noah said, giving me a shy smile.

“Don’t mention it, my little man. Now, what’s the time? Are you hungry?” I asked. “You haven’t had dinner yet, have you?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Can I have noodles?”

“Uh…sure,” I nodded. “I can make your noodles.”

“You don’t have to make them,” he told me. “You just have to warm them up.”

Frowning, I went to the kitchen cupboards and looked through them. There were two packets of microwavable noodles. I reached for one and stared at the instructions on the back. Noah had followed me into the kitchen, looking at me with those big blue eyes, like he was waiting to be fed.

I gave him a small smile. “You eat this for dinner?”

“Uh-huh,” he nodded.

“Your dad doesn’t mind?”

“He’s never here for dinner.”

“Ah…does Janet give you this for dinner?”

“Almost always,” he nodded.

I bit my lip and refrained from saying anything. “How about we try something different today?” I suggested, making my tone as enthusiastic as possible.

Noah looked hesitant. “I don’t know.”This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“I promise it’ll be good,” I said.

“Cross your heart?”

I smiled and gave him a wink. “Cross my heart,” I promised.

I opened the fridge and peered in. There were a few carrots, beans, and potatoes, and I found some chicken in the freezer. Once the chicken had defrosted I cut it up and threw the pieces onto a frying pan with olive oil. Noah looked fascinated.

“Can I help?” he asked.

“Sure,” I nodded. “How about you set the table for me?”

Half an hour later, I had a home-cooked dinner ready for him. I arranged the chicken and veggies into a smiley face on the surface of his plate and set it down in front of him.

“Voila,” I said. “What do you think?”

“It’s so nice,” he said, sounding mightily impressed.

“Go on,” I encouraged. “Take a bite and tell me how you like it.”

He speared a piece of chicken with his fork and popped it in. Then he gave me a big happy smile and nodded. “That’s yummy.”

“Yeah,” I said, throwing my hands in the air. “I’m glad you like it.”

I sat down beside Noah at the table and passed him a glass of water. I helped myself to a few pieces of chicken and tried to engage Noah in some conversation.

“So…how are you liking school?”

“I like it,” Noah replied.

“Are your teachers nice?”

“Ms. Mary is nice,” Noah replied, with his mouth full. “But I don’t like Ms. Gayle. She’s always angry.”

“Urgh…I had a teacher like that,” I told him. “I was always nervous around her.”

“Me, too,” Noah said, looking at me with wide eyes.

I smiled. “Tell me about your friends.”

“My friends are Jaime and Lonnie and Peter,” Noah said. “But I’m not speaking to Dan.”