His Nanny Mate By Eve Above Story

Chapter 89: Art Lessons

Moana

As I walked around the room and helped the children with their art, I suddenly heard the sound of the floorboards creaking in the doorway. Thinking that it was Sophia coming to check on how everything was going, I looked up with a smile.

That smile quickly faded, however, when I realized it wasn’t Sophia, but was in fact Edrick who was standing there. He had an indiscernible expression on his face and stood as still as a statue in the doorway with his hands in his pockets, his eyes locked on mine for several long, palpable moments.

Was I seeing things, or had the cold Alpha billionaire finally realized the fault in breaking his promise to his daughter?

But before I could even process the fact that he apparently seemed to have changed his mind for whatever reason, Ella snapped her head up and gasped loudly.

“Daddy!” she exclaimed, jumping up out of her chair and running up to him. “You came!”

a smile and scooped Ella up, hugging her tightly and planting a kiss on her cheek while the other children also threw down their paint brushes and ran up to him. “Mr. Morgan!” they shouted excitedly, jumping up and down on their toes as they swarmed around him. Much

cheek. “Hello, Matthew.

eyes and an open mouth. It seemed that the Alpha billionaire changed his mind after all and wound up keeping his promise to his daughter; that didn’t mean that I wasn’t still furious with him, not only for initially breaking his promise but also for reeking of women’s perfume and being passed out drunkenly on the couch, but my attitude softened toward him a little bit as I watched him being so

straight at me. “Am I

Well—” I stuttered, still taken

grabbing his hand and leading him over to her work station while the other children returned

hands in his pockets as he peered down at his daughter’s canvas, which contained anything but a flower at this point. “That’s very good,

grinned. “Are you gonna

honey, I

Ella begged, clasping her

finally shrugged and nodded, letting out a sigh. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll paint with

him soften even more. Without a word, I walked over to the supply cabinet and grabbed a spare apron for him to wear, then handed it to him

it on, then made his way over to one of the tables and sat down. He looked comically large in the chair

rather sloppily and wound up splattering quite a bit of paint on his sleeves. The children pointed and poked fun at him, but he didn’t seem to mind the paint getting on his nice white shirt and only laughed along with them, poking fun

seemed as though he’d never even picked up a paintbrush before in his entire life. Watching him struggle was endearing, and

to come to an end. I clapped my hands to get the children’s —

like a big kid on his own, wandering around with his hands clasped behind his back. It admittedly made me smile a bit,