His Nanny Mate By Eve Above Story

Chapter 333

Chapter 333 Straight To The Heart

Ella

The shadows on the ceiling seemed to sway and dance as I lay on the plush bed, the soft linens providing little comfort to my restless mind. Each tick of the ornate clock on the wall reverberated in my ears, amplifying my rising anxiety.

But it was the silence that was the loudest of all, the quiet punctuated only by my shallow breaths.

“Can’t sleep?” a familiar voice echoed in the depths of my mind, its tone soft and playful. Ema.

“Hey, Ema,” I whispered out loud to the wolf within me, grateful for the company. She chuffed in amusement. “You’re thinking about him. I can tell.”

I sighed, turning onto my side, curling up as if shielding myself. “I’m not. I’m just… restless.”

There was a pause, a stillness, before she responded. “Don’t pretend that you’re not worried about him.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not worried.”

She chuckled, a sound that reverberated through my core. “Ella, after all these years, do you think you can hide your feelings from me?” Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

“I’m just…” I hesitated, searching for the right words, my heartbeats quickening. “He could be out there doing something dangerous right now. He’s always involved in something risky.”

My wolf hummed, a gentle, soothing sound that seemed to wrap around me. “He’s strong, Ella. And smart. Logan knows how to handle himself.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I whispered, my voice catching. “He might push himself too far. What if something happens?”

There was a soft sigh, one filled with understanding. “He’s been living this life long before you came into the picture. Trust him.”

Pulling the blankets up to my chin, I tried to push away the rising tide of worry. “I just wish he would confide in me more. Maybe then I wouldn’t be so afraid for him.”

The wolf’s voice grew tender, maternal almost. “He’s trying to protect you, in his own way. But it’s okay to be scared. It shows you care.”

I bit my lip, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I just wish I could be there with him, side by side. To face the dangers together.”

A soft laugh emanated from within. “Your fierceness always did amuse me. But for now, try to rest. You need your strength.”

“I can’t,” I admitted, my fingers clutching the sheets. There was a beat of silence. “Then maybe you should do something else. Distraction, can be a useful ally.”

Nodding to myself, I pushed the covers off and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The cold marble floor sent a shiver up my spine, grounding me. Taking a deep breath, I got to my feet and padded softly towards the window.

Outside, the moon bathed the gardens in a silvery glow, painting everything in ethereal light. The world seemed peaceful, untouched by the storm that raged within me.

Drawing the curtains back, I decided to take a walk. Maybe the night air would clear my mind, help calm the whirlwind of emotions threatening to consume me.

The silence was almost stifling as I wandered around Logan’s mansion. The high ceilings and grandeur of the rooms I passed seemed endless, a testament to Logan’s taste for luxury. Every turn revealed ornate artwork, gilded mirrors, and the kind of furnishings one would see in glossy magazines. But for all its opulence, the mansion felt devoid of warmth.

In a house as vast as this, one could easily get lost-both physically and metaphorically. My feet made soft, echoing sounds on the marble floor as I strolled, occasionally stopping to admire a painting or a delicate piece of sculpture.

Time seemed to lose its meaning, and before l knew it, my stomach emitted an audible growl, pulling me out of my reverie.

“Of course,” I muttered to myself, “all this exploring made me hungry.”

With a newfound purpose, I began my search for the kitchen. The mansion’s labyrinthine design made it a bit challenging, but I eventually stumbled upon a massive double door that opened to reveal an even more impressive kitchen. The counters sparkled with cleanliness, and the steel appliances looked straight out of a commercial.

I stood there for a moment, absorbing the size and splendor, before a gentle voice broke my thoughts.

“Hello, dear. Lost, are we?”

I spun around to find Mrs. Wentworth standing by the doorway, a soft smile playing on her lips. Her gray hair was neatly pulled into a bun, and there was a familiar warmth in her eyes that immediately reminded me of Selina.

“Oh, I… I was just looking for something to eat,” I admitted sheepishly.

Mrs. Wentworth chuckled, her eyes twinkling.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place.” She motioned for me to sit at one of the stools by the kitchen island. “Why don’t you let me whip up something for you?”

I hesitated for a moment, but the allure of a homemade meal was too hard to resist. “A sandwich would be wonderful. Thank you.”

She set to work with practiced ease, pulling ingredients from the fridge and spreading condiments on soft bread. As she worked, she started speaking, her voice soft and filled with memories. “You know, I’ve been with Logan’s family since he was a little boy. I watched him grow up, take his first steps, say his first words.”

I leaned forward, intrigued. “He must’ve been a handful.”

She chuckled. “Oh, he was always a sweetheart. Always full of laughter and mischief. But that all changed when his mother passed away.”

My heart ached at the thought of a young Logan losing his mother. “How did he change?”

Mrs. Wentworth sighed, looking distant. “He was always so happy, always with a smile on his face. After the tragedy, he became so… serious. It’s like a part of him was taken away with her.”

A somber silence hung between us, filled only by the soft rustling of her making the sandwich.

“But lately,” she continued, her tone a bit brighter, “ever since he met you, I’ve noticed that his smiles are returning. It’s as if a piece of the old Logan is back.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Me? I doubt I had any effect on him.”

Mrs. Wentworth handed me a plate with the sandwich and shook her head, her gaze sharp and knowing. “Don’t sell yourself short, dear. The way he looks at you, the way he talks about you… He

must really love you.”

My cheeks burned, the heat rising rapidly. I tried to laugh it off, but it came out a bit strained. “Love is a strong word. Maybe it’s just infatuation.”

Mrs. Wentworth took the stool next to mine, her expression stern yet gentle. “Ella, I’ve seen Logan with many women over the years, but none like you. If he didn’t truly care about you, he wouldn’t have brought you here, to his sanctuary, to keep you safe while he’s out handling his business.”

I stared down at the sandwich, lost in thought, the weight of her words settling around me. All this time, I had convinced myself that our connection was fleeting, merely a result of circumstances. But Mrs. Wentworth’s observations added a new layer of complexity to it all.

“Thank you, Mrs. Wentworth,” I murmured, not just for the meal but for the unexpected insight into Logan’s world.

She patted my hand, a smile spreading across her face. “Eat up, dear. And remember, sometimes the heart sees what the eyes cannot.”