A Millionaire for Cinderella(2)

“I missed you, too. How are you feeling?”

“Good, now you’re here.” Her gnarled hand patted his. “Is Nigel okay?”

“Nigel is fine.”

“He was a naughty boy. Make sure you tell him I’m disappointed in him.”

“I’ll let him know.” There was indulgence in his voice.

“Don’t make him feel too guilty. He didn’t mean it.” The older woman’s eyelids began to droop, sleep taking over once again. “He’s stubborn, like you.”

“You go ahead and get some sleep, Tetya. I’m back home now. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Such a good boy. Not at all like your grandfather, thank goodness.” She closed her eyes only to open them wide again. “Patience?”

Until then, Patience had lingered at the foot of the bed, not wanting to crowd Ana any more than necessary. Upon hearing her name, she drew closer. “Yes, Ana?”

“There you are,” Ana replied. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she said.

“Yes, I do,” the older woman insisted. “You take such good care of me.”

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Stuart shift his weight and felt the moment his gaze slid in her direction. She kept her attention on Ana and pretended she couldn’t see him. “I was only doing what any person would do. Now, why don’t you get some rest?”

“Take care of Nigel while I’m here?”

“I will.”

“Stuart, too.”

She assumed Ana meant for her nephew to help take care of Nigel. Either that or this was the confusion the nurse mentioned, because the man next to her definitely didn’t need taking care of. Certainly not from someone like her.

From the tick in his cheek, Stuart thought the same thing.

They stayed until a different nurse came to check Ana’s vitals. The small space was barely big enough for two visitors, let alone three, so Patience stepped outside. To her surprise, Stuart followed.

“You know what’s crazy?” she remarked. “That foolish cat causes her to break her ankle and he’s still going to get gourmet cat food for dinner.” A dinner that, she realized as she did the math in her head, was now several hours late. Hopefully he didn’t kick cat litter all over the kitchen floor in retaliation. Or worse, break her ankle.

Stuart was watching her again, his face as dour as before. Apparently drawing the exam room curtain closed off more than Ana’s bed. “Are you positive Nigel tripped Ana?” he asked.

That was dumb question. “Of course, I’m sure,” she replied. “I mean I don’t know for certain. But, it was dinnertime, and the cat does have this annoying habit of bothering the nearest warm body when he wants to eat. Why are you even asking?” Ana had already told him that the cat had caused the accident.

“Just want to make sure I have all the facts.”

Facts? For crying out loud, he sounded as if they were in one of those hour-long detective dramas. “Trust me, you’ve got all the facts. Nigel is one horrendous pest.” Not to mention spoiled rotten. “Besides, who else would trip her? I was the only other person in the house and I...”

He didn’t...

She glared up at him through her bangs. “You think I had something to do with Ana’s accident?”

“Why would I think that? Ana blames Nigel.”

“Because Nigel tripped her.” His mistrust was serious. Unbelievable.

No, actually, it was very believable. A guy like him, used to the cream of everything. Of course, he’d suspect the help. “Are you suggesting your aunt is lying?”

“Hardly.”

“Then why would I be? Lying, that is.”

“Did I say you were lying? I told you, I was simply gathering facts. You’re the one who read deeper meaning into my questions.” Immediately, she opened her mouth to protest, only to have him hold up a finger. “Although,” he continued, “you can’t blame me if I am suspicious.”

Oh, couldn’t she? The guy was practically insinuating—not practically, he was insinuating that she had pushed a helpless little old lady down a flight of stairs. “And why is that?” She folded her arms across her chest. This she had to hear.

“For starters, Aunt Ana hired you directly while I was in Los Angeles.”

So that was it. The man was territorial. “In other words, you’re upset because Ana didn’t talk to you first.”

“Yes, I am.” Having been expecting a denial, Patience was surprised to hear him agree. “Normally, I vet my family’s employees and you, somehow, managed to bypass the process. As a result, I don’t know a damn thing about you. For all I know, you could be hiding some deep, dark secret.”

Patience’s insides chilled. If only he knew...

Still, no matter what questionable decisions she’d made in her life, there were lines she’d never dream of crossing. Hurting a defenseless old lady being on top of the list. “You’re right,” she told him, “you don’t know me.”

Yanking back the curtain, she returned to Ana’s side.



My, my, quite the bundle of moral outrage aren’t we? Stuart ignored the twinge from his conscience as he watched Patience sashay behind the curtain. He refused to feel guilty for taking care of his family. After all, until eight months ago, he’d never heard of Patience Rush. Suddenly, the housekeeper was all his aunt could talk about. Patience this, Patience that. No need to worry about me, Stuart. Patience will take good care of me. Patience is moving into the brownstone. And the final straw... Patience takes care of writing out the checks now.

With Aunt Ana incapacitated, Patience would have an awful lot of power. Or rather, she would have, if he hadn’t come home. He kicked himself for not being around the past eleven months. Now his aunt was attached to a stranger he knew nothing about. Ana might be sharp for her age, but when all was said and done, she was still an old woman living alone who had a soft spot for sob stories. Her big heart made her vulnerable to all sorts of exploitation.

It certainly wouldn’t be the first time a pretty young thing had tried to grab a piece of the Duchenko fortune.

Unfortunately for Miss Rush, he was no longer a lonely twenty-year-old looking for affection. Nor was he still naive enough to believe people were as guileless as they appeared. Ana was the only family he had left. He’d be damned if he’d let her be burned the way he had been.

There was the rustle of a curtain, and Ana’s gurney appeared on its way toward the elevator. As she passed by, the older woman gave him a sleepy wave. Stuart grabbed her hand and pressed the wizened knuckles to his lips. “See you soon, Tetya,” he whispered.

“The surgical waiting area is on the third floor,” the nurse told him. “If you want to stay there, we can let you know as soon as they’re finished.”

“Thank you.”

Patience’s soft voice answered before he had the chance. Immediately, his mouth drew into a tight line. “You’re planning to wait, too?”

“Of course. I’m not going to be able to sleep until I know you’re okay,” she told Ana.

Ana smiled. “But Nigel...”

“Nigel will be fine,” he said. While he wasn’t crazy about Miss Rush hanging around, he wasn’t about to start an argument over his aunt’s hospital gurney. “Don’t you worry.”

“Besides, it’ll do him good to wait,” Patience added, “seeing as how this whole accident is his fault.” She raised her eyes, daring him to say otherwise. “I promise, I’ll go home and feed him as soon as you’re out of surgery.”

The sedatives were starting to kick in. Ana’s smile was weak and sloppy. “Such a good girl,” she murmured before closing her eyes.

Oh, yeah, a real sweetheart, he thought to himself. The way she so casually referred to the brownstone as home rankled him to no end. It was like ten years ago all over again, only this time, instead of a beguiling blonde worming her way into their lives, it was a brunette with hooded eyes and curves that wouldn’t quit.

Interesting that she chose to downplay her sexuality. A tactical decision, perhaps? If so, it didn’t work. A burlap sack couldn’t mute those assets. Even he had to admit to a stir of appreciation the first time he saw her.

She was hiding more than her figure, too. Don’t think he didn’t notice how she looked away when he mentioned having secrets. There was a lot more to Patience Rush than met the eye. And he intended to find out what.



They spent the time Anna was in surgery on opposite sides of the waiting area, Stuart moving chairs together to create a makeshift work area while Patience made do with out-of-date women’s magazines. Having read up on last fall’s fashions and learned how to spot if her spouse was having an online affair, she was left with nothing to do but lean back in her chair and shoot daggers at Ana’s nephew.

Who did he think he was, suggesting she had something to do with Ana’s fall? Like she could ever. Anastasia Duchenko saved her life with this job. Every morning, she woke up grateful for the opportunity. To be able to walk down the street with her head held high. To not have to scrub herself raw to feel clean. Finally, she had a job she could be proud of. Be a person she could be proud of.