His Nanny Mate By Eve Above Story

Chapter 199: Moving Day

Edrick

Moana was terribly quiet for the next few days. I didn’t blame her, of course. She was going to be rightfully upset about having to leave, but it was the safest thing to be done. I only ever wanted to keep Moana and Ella safe, and despite our last incident at the mountain estate, I felt confident that our new security guards would protect us while we were there. During that time, though, I decided that I would have to figure out what to do about my father. I knew that he was going to come after us, but I had no real evidence. He hadn’t made any real threats yet, at least not anything that we could prove, so we couldn’t turn him in to the police. As of that moment, I was at a loss as to what to do about him. And my mother wasn’t picking up her phone when I called, either. I was beginning to get worried, to say the least.

The next few days went by too quickly. I hired a moving company to get everything that we would need; mostly clothes, kitchenware, and sentimental items since the mountain estate was already fully furnished. I wanted Moana to feel at home there, so without her knowledge I hired an interior designer to go to the estate and furnish one of the rooms to make it a nice art studio for her. I figured that this would cheer Moana up and maybe make her not hate being there and being away from her job so much.

By the middle of the week, however, I started to feel a bit sad too.

comfortable pillows on the furniture. Her sketchbook lay on the table by the armchair in the sun. Even in my bedroom, she had placed a little dish for

knew that we

didn’t understand why

along with our caravan of security vans. We would be leaving out the back, where the paparazzi weren’t waiting for us. Within a couple of weeks, news

eventually came out and helped Ella get ready,

would come around soon. Soon, she would understand why I was doing this and she wouldn’t be so mad at me. And besides, the mountain estate was beautiful. For all I knew, she might

point with a box in my hand,

looked at it for a few moments. This past week, I hadn’t been playing it much. But now, in the late morning sunlight, it

played quietly and tentatively. I hated being overheard, as having an audience made me oddly nervous. Despite my public speaking abilities, I couldn’t stand playing the piano in front of people. But as I played a little more, I soon got lost in the song. I started playing more fluidly, closing my eyes as I felt the smooth keys beneath my fingers. I stopped caring if anyone overheard me, and simply felt the music

I played for. It could have been minutes or even hours. All I knew was that when I opened my eyes,

I never would have admitted it, but I couldn’t help but notice that I could see the