His Nanny Mate By Eve Above Story

Chapter 302

Chapter 302 Baring It All

Ella Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

The luxuriousness of the suite was quickly overshadowed by the cold weight of Marina’s smirk, the shine of my pistol in her hands contrasting sharply with the opulent interior.

My heart leaped into my throat. In my haste, I had left my purse on the bed, so consumed by the idea of wearing the ridiculous bikini.

“Give that back, Marina,” I hissed, too tense to even move. Marina smirked. “Well, well,” she said, letting the pistol dangle dangerously with her finger in the trigger guard. “Color me surprised. Ella Morgan keeps a gun in her purse. It’s like…. finding a snake in a flower patch.”

I felt my throat constrict. Ema urged me to lunge for the gun, but I knew that it was dangerous.

“Just… Put it back,” I said. “Please.”

“I have to know, though,” she said. “Why do you have a pistol in your purse, Ella?” Marina asked, her voice dripping with faux sweetness, as she fingered the gun. Drawing on every ounce of calm I could muster, I replied, “It’s just for safety. I always keep one on me.”

Her smirk widened. “Is that so? What does the billionaire’s spoiled daughter have to fear? Made some enemies in this city, did you?”

“It’s… just a precaution,” I answered curtly. “This city isn’t exactly known for being safe. You know that as well as I do.”

She raised an eyebrow, contemplating whether to push further or drop the subject. “Should I tell Harry about this little secret of yours, I wonder?”

Every fiber of my being went on high alert. “There’s no need,” I began, drawing on my experience as a lawyer to help me argue my way out of this. “In fact, it might be more beneficial to keep this between us. My father always taught me to be prepared, and considering the city’s crime rates, a little precaution doesn’t hurt.”

She seemed to ponder over my words for a moment, mulling them over in her mind. “And who would trust a guest with a concealed weapon at such an event?” she countered, smirking once again.

“Who would trust the city’s underbelly, even aboard such a yacht? Besides…” I paused, putting forward my ace. “…It might also make one wonder why a guest felt the need for such precautions, especially with security here supposedly being so tight.”

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Marina’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by that familiar smirk of hers.

“Very well,” she conceded, placing the gun back into my purse. “But know this, Ella. You’re not the only one with a weapon here.”

“I never assumed I was,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. She handed me my purse with a final warning look. “Just remember, I’m watching. Always.”

There was something in the heiress’ voice then, as though it had taken on a different tone. When it was just the two of us, the cloying and ladylike tone in her voice was much different… darker. Deeper.

“You know,” she said, brushing her hands together as though wiping dust away from her palms after touching my purse, “you and Logan don’t make the worst couple ever. I’m actually somewhat surprised.”

“Are you?” I cocked my head, genuinely surprised by this revelation. Marina nodded. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re actually kind of sweet together.”

With that, before I could answer, Marina flicked a lock of golden hair over her shoulder and sauntered out of the room. I stood there for a few moments, taken aback.

“Was she… complimenting you?” Ema asked, sounding just as shocked as I felt. “I don’t know what that was,” I replied, resisting the urge to laugh out loud. “But whatever it was, I’m glad it’s over.”

As I stood there, I couldn’t help but think about Marina’s words.

‘If I didn’t know better,’ she had said. What did that mean, exactly? That she was onto us? It came as no surprise that the heiress watched everything like a hawk behind the facade of airheadedness, but it still left me feeling unsettled.

And even as I stood in the middle of her large and opulent bedroom, completely alone, I swore I felt those green eyes on me.

I took a moment to compose myself before deciding to rejoin the party. After a painstaking journey through the maze of the enormous yacht, and eventually needing to ask one of the staff to guide me back to the pool, I finally made it outside.

The cool night air hit my face as I stepped out onto the deck. The sounds of laughter, loud music, and splashing filled the air, admittedly helping to quiet the turmoil in my head.

Logan approached, his brow furrowed with concern as he handed me a champagne glass. I took it gratefully, drinking half of it in one gulp. All of the alcohol from that night was beginning to make me feel tipsy, but I needed it to stand being around these people.

“Everything go alright with Marina?” he asked. I hesitated for a moment, then gave him a small smile. “It was fine,” I lied.

He seemed not to believe me, but he said nothing. Instead, his gaze dropped to the towel I had wrapped tightly around myself. “Why are you covering up?” he questioned, a teasing glint in his eyes. I pulled the towel a bit tighter around me. “No reason,” I murmured. “Just more comfortable like this.”

Logan chuckled, his fingers reaching for the towel. “Come on,” he said. “I have yet to see you in a bikini. Show me.”

I jerked away, shooting him a glare. At the same time, I felt my fangs begin to show. “Don’t touch me,” I growled. “Geez,” Logan said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I was just curious to see the bathing suit.”

Blushing, I took another swig of champagne and retracted my fangs. “Sorry,” I murmured. “It’s just… I feel naked in this thing. Of course Marina picked out the skimpiest bikini known to man.”

Logan laughed softly, gesturing around at the party-goers. “Half of the people here are either half-naked or skinny dipping. And most are too intoxicated to care about much else. Trust me, no one is gonna be gawking at you. And if they do, I’ll handle it.”

As Logan spoke, I followed his gestures. He was right; there were already a myriad of naked people in the pool, mostly women with their breasts out, hooting and hollering over the music. One woman was brazenly giving a strip tease on the edge of the pool, grinning as others crowded around her and goaded her on.

On the other side of the pool, by the lounge chairs, a group of people were passing around a rolled up dollar bill and a plate with white powder on it, and the scent of smoke-both cigarettes and something else-filled the air.

And not a single person was looking at me. Not even Marina, who was too busy leaning on the railing and looking out over the ocean with a champagne flute in her slender hand to care.

I took a deep breath, clutching the fabric of the towel. “Alright,” I murmured, hesitantly letting it drop to the floor.

As the material pooled at my feet, I felt more exposed than ever, the soft lights of the yacht illuminating the barely-there bikini. I heard Logan’s sharp intake of breath, his eyes widening as they swept over me.