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A Husband For The NANNY

“Congratulations, you have been hired as the personal assistant…” “Really!” Grace exclaimed even before Jace Brandon, the CEO of Brandon Corporations could finish his statement. The growing sparkle in Grace’s eyes did not escape the keen sight of Jace. “To my son,” he completed. “Yes, I’m very much delighted to take up the position of the personal assistant to … your what?!” Grace’s eyes almost popped out of their socket as she completed “son?” listlessly. “You heard me right,” Jace replied coldly as he stared at Grace. “Is that not the same as being employed as your child’s nanny?” Grace asked doubtfully. “If you want to put it that way, yes.” Jace replied nonchalantly. “In other words…” Grace began. “You are officially my son’s nanny, if you accept the offer,” Jace Brandon completed. “If there is nothing else, this interview is officially over.” ********* Grace Fowler, who had always dreamt of becoming a top designer in the biggest designing firm in the country was blacklisted for exposing sensitive company information due to a set up by the ones she trusted the most— her boyfriend and her kid sister. Shattered and battered, she set out for greener pastures in an unknown land and ended up being hired as a nanny to the son of Jace Brandon, the wealthiest billionaire in San Francisco. But the scariest thing was when her job description was gradually amended to not only taking care of the five year old autistic son of the CEO but the widowed CEO himself. What does the future hold for her when suddenly, everything around her begins to change and her past comes calling again with the sudden appearance of her boss’s late wife. Will Grace be able to let go of her past and embrace the joy of fighting for the heart of the man her heart yearns for, or settle for happiness in the arms of Trent, her boss’s cousin, who literally adores the ground Grace walks on?

Beautifiedg1 · Urbano
Classificações insuficientes
344 Chs

His Wife To Be.

In the lavish sitting room of the Beaumont mansion, two ladies sat engrossed in a conversation.

The two of them sported the same blonde hair which cascaded in soft waves down their shoulders. Their piercing brown eyes which seemed to be guarded against everyone else but themselves were also of the same hue.

And as it were, their dressing was in sync with that of the room which exuded opulence, with silk draperies framing tall windows that overlooked a manicured gardens.

But sadly, their facial expressions were a great contrast with the warm and welcoming atmosphere created by the decor of the room.

Swaying herself in a white coloured hammock installed in the room, Cory Beaumont angrily tossed popcorn into her mouth, venting her anger on the popcorn from the way she went about chewing it.

Across from her, her mother, Doreen Beaumont, sat elegantly, a thoughtful expression on her face.