Nanny and Her Four Alpha Bullies

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Chapter 19 

My throat clenches and my heartbeat is loud in my ears. 

Unique. 

No one’s ever called me unique before. I wonder if it’s some sort of backhanded compliment. The way he said it however, it felt real. It felt 

real. 

I feel a rush of happiness swell over me like a gust of air. Being praised by an asshole like Archer isn’t going to fix any of the big problems here. But, I can’t help but smile a bit. It’s a juxtaposition to the two people in front of me, emanating rage like it’s steam. I catch Laura’s eye and see her glare deepen. My smile falls immediately. 

She gives Archer and I another look before storming out of the kitchen: I don’t miss the way her eyes sparkle with the hold of unreleased tears. She bustles out of the kitchen. The doors slam behind her. I look at Archer and heave a sigh. 

“Thanks, I say. 

“Don’t mention it,” Archer says plainly. He shoots me a look. “Like, really, don’t.” 

I roll my eyes. “Sure.” 

“I was looking for you,” he says. “Did you get what you needed here?” 

I look down at Mia. She seems content but still hasn’t had a snack. I look back at Archer. His gaze is sharp. 

“I was going to get her a snack,” I say, “But I can just grab something to go if you need me else where.” 

“Feed her,” Archer says with a tip of his chin. “Then meet me in your room.” 

I nod in agreement before Archer takes off. The doors close behind him and Mia begins to babble happily. I look down at her and sigh. 

“What could he possibly want?” I ask the baby. She smiles and claps her hands together. I chuckle. “I’m not sure it’s anything good, Mee.” 

A few minutes later, I’ve given Mia some applesauce and walk back into our room. I tuck her in a play mobile and look up to see Archer standing in front of my closet. I frown. What could be possibly want with my clothes? They already stained most of them grey. 

Archer sees me and turns towards me. “Oh, hello,” 

“Hi,” I say, warily. “Everything okay?” 

“Yes,” Archer clears his throat and stands taller. “The boys and I have talked. If you’re staying here, you should be outfitted as such. We’ve had another employee go get the appropriate attire.” 

“What’s wrong with a tee shirt and jeans?” I say. 

Archer’s lip twists in disgust. I look down at my outfit. My shirt is full of holes. There’s also stains all over it. Some are from training in Greendale, some are Mia–made. My jeans are also ripped and tattered. It’s not in aesthetic way either. It’s in a sloppy, this–is–all–i–have–so–l- make–do way. Neither garment fits me well, both hanging off my skin in a way that makes me look sickly. 

I look back up at Archer, still disgusted. I shrug. “Okay, so I could use some new clothes.” 

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“I’ll say,” Archer agrees. “These should fit you better.” 

He opens up the wardrobe and I gasp. Everything inside is beautiful. There’s silks and satins and knits that must be cashmere. They’re all in dull, muted colors. Nothing is as vibrant as my old style but these clothes seem better made and much, much more expensive. I swallow 

thickly. 

“These are all mine?” I say, I cringe at how small my voice sounds. 

Archer nods and motions towards the wardrobe. I step closer and begin to shift through the items. They all feel expensive under my fingers. The material is thick and lush. I breathe out in wonder. I feel the tickle of a laugh on the back of my neck. A tingle rushes over my entire body and my skin twitches. NôvelDrama.Org owns this.

“Try it on,” Archer breathes into me. “I wanna see if it’s the right size. I won’t have you in ill–fitting clothes anymore.” 

I run my hand over a sweater then furrow my brow. My actual clothes are gone. I whirl around. Archer and I are chest to chest. He blinks twice and steps back a bit so were no longer touching. 

“Where’s my stuff?” I snap. 

“The grey stained rags?” Archer scoffs. “Please. You’re not wearing those.” 

“Why not?” I push. “It’s my choice.” 

“Not if you’re watching Mia,” Archer grits out. “It’s my choice. Besides, these clothes are better for skin. It’s more suitable for babies.” 

I frown. He has a point. I snatch a skirt and a sweater from the closet. “Fine,” I say sharply. “But just know I don’t like it.” 

Archer rolls his eyes. “Do you like anything I make you do?” 

I don’t dignify that with an answer before marching the dresser across the room. 

ching off u 

to the bathroom. Archer clears his throat. I turn back around, confused. He points to 

“Panties,” he says. “And bras. Unless you’re going commando?” 

I flush slightly and scowl at him, grumbling a curse his direction under my breath. He doesn’t say thing as I open the drawer and pull out the first items I can touch. I storm back to the bathroom and shut the door. I immediately start to make work of my clothing, getting all the way down to my own underwear when I pause. I toy with the hem of the panties Archer got me, unsure if I should put them on. 

I hold them up and immediately decide against it. Of course, he only got me thongs. I drop the panties and pull the skirt on over my bri green boyshorts. The sweater comes next. I turn around and look at myself in the mirror. 

I look better immediately. The shapeliness of the clothes has flattered my frame in a way that the baggy clothes didn’t. I looked like the clothes looked. I looked beautiful. 

I sighed and opened the door to go back into the room. I nervously shuffled in. Archer stood in the same place as before. Mia cheered when I walked back in and I blushed slightly. Then I shook my head, she was just excited to see me. In cashmere or cotton, she didn’t care. 

were raking over every piece of I looked at Archer. His face was set in a line. He walked over to me and stalked around me in a circle. His eyes the fabric. He brushed the shoulder of the sweater then continued to analyze me. Abruptly, I felt a prescience on my hip. I gasped, oh–so quietly, as the warmth spread. His hand smoothed over the curve of me, his pinkly skimming the top of my ass. It lit goosebumps across my skin and my brain. 

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“These fit perfectly,” he whispered. It almost sounded like a purr in my ears. His hand skimmed across my lower back to my other hip. Hel turned me towards him. I looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“The homecoming dance is coming up,” he said, still low and soft. “I’ll have the tailor make you a dress with these measurements. You’ll bring Mia and we’ll formally introduce you to the school.” 

“Formally?” I ask. 

Archer nods. He retracts his hand from me and I jerk back at the sudden loss of contact. His eyes dart back and forth, searching for something 

in mine. He nods, tersely. 

“Yes,” he says. “All member of the Hayes Court must be.” 

“Oh,” I say, softly, I turn towards the mirror in the corner of the room. I notice a patch on the breast of the sweater that I hadn’t before. My 

hand traces over it gently. 

“Is this the mark of the Hayes Court?” I ask. 

Archer stands behind me and nods. “It is,” he says. “The Hayes Court of Slaves.”