3

I dragged myself through the front door just after six in the evening, every inch of my body aching. Whoever invented high heels clearly hated women. I kicked them off the second the door clicked shut and groaned in relief as my sore feet finally met the cool marble floor. The mansion was quiet except for the faint sound of music drifting from the kitchen. For the first time in my life, I actually missed my penthouse. At least there I could collapse onto my oversized couch without anyone asking how my day went. Instead, I was back here, living under my father’s roof with my stepmother. “Riley?” I looked up to see Victoria walking out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of freshly baked cookies. The warm, chocolatey scent hit me instantly. She smiled the moment she saw me, but her expression quickly shifted to concern. “My goodness, sweetheart. You look exhausted.” “I think I am dying,” I muttered. She laughed softly. “I highly doubt that.” “I walked. For hours. In heels.” Victoria winced in sympathy. “Come here.” Before I could protest, she guided me into the bright, spacious kitchen and settled me at the marble island. A steaming cup of hot chocolate appeared in front of me within minutes. I stared at it, surprised. “You remembered.” “You always drink hot chocolate after a terrible day,” she said gently. A small smile tugged at my lips despite everything. Victoria had only been married to my father for five years, but she had always treated me with genuine kindness. She never tried to replace my mother, she simply cared. “So,” she asked, leaning against the counter, “how was the job hunt?” I dropped my forehead onto the cool marble with a dramatic thud. “I’m officially unemployable.” “It couldn’t have been that bad.” “It was worse.” I launched into a full theatrical recount of every rejection. The boutique that wanted retail experience. The café that wanted actual barista skills. The receptionist position that expected me to know Excel beyond just opening the program. Victoria listened patiently, occasionally nodding while trying and failing to hide her amusement. “They all looked at me like I was an alien,” I finished, grabbing a warm cookie. Stress eating was basically therapy. “Nobody cares that I have millions of followers. I’m Riley Hart, not some random girl off the street.” “They’re hiring employees, not influencers,” she said gently. I sighed, biting into the cookie. “I thought finding a job would be easy. Turns out… I was wrong.” A comfortable silence settled between us. Victoria pushed the plate of cookies closer. I took another. “Your father isn’t changing his mind,” she said carefully after a moment. “I know.” “He loves you.” “I know that too.” “He just wants you to learn how to stand on your own two feet.” I stared at the half-eaten cookie in my hand. “I hate when he’s right.” Victoria smiled knowingly. “So do I.” I glanced up. “You?” “Oh, your father has only been right about three things in our entire marriage.” “Only three?” I asked, amused. “Maybe four,” she admitted with a chuckle. We both laughed, and some of the heavy tension in my chest eased. Then Victoria’s expression turned thoughtful. “I may have an idea.” I raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.” “My son needs help.” I nearly choked on my cookie. “Luca?” She nodded. “He just lost another nanny. The last one resigned yesterday.” “Again?” I asked, eyes widening. Victoria sighed. “The twins convinced her there was a ghost in the attic. They played sounds through hidden speakers for three straight days.” I burst out laughing. “They did what?” “It wasn’t funny for the poor nanny.” “Okay… that’s actually kind of genius,” I admitted, still grinning. Victoria took a sip of her tea. “Luca has been struggling to find someone reliable who will stay. The children adore having someone around, but they’re… a handful.” I leaned back in my seat. “So hire another professional nanny.” “We’ve tried. They don’t last.” I frowned. “How does that involve me?” She looked at me like the answer was obvious. “You could do it.” I laughed. She didn’t. “…You’re serious.” “Very.” “Victoria…” “Hear me out.” She held up a hand. “You need a job. He needs someone to look after the children. It would only be temporary.” “I’m terrible with kids,” I protested. “I’ve barely spent any time around them.” “They’re good children. Just energetic. And creative.” “They invented a ghost to terrorize their nanny!” Victoria smiled. “Exactly. They need someone who can keep up with them. Someone… like you.” I folded my arms, but the idea was already spinning in my head. Luca. The world-famous Formula One driver. Multiple world champion. Walking billboard for luxury brands. The man magazines crowned “Sexiest Man Alive.” Ridiculous. Personally, I thought the title suited his massive ego more than his annoyingly perfect face. I still remembered the first time I met him. I was nineteen, and Dad had just married Victoria. Luca flew in straight from a race weekend. Everyone at the wedding had fawned over him. I stood there in my bridesmaid dress, momentarily speechless. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair, that sharp jawline, he really was unfairly handsome. For about five minutes, I had the tiniest crush on my new stepbrother. Then I spilled champagne while trying to take the perfect selfie, and Luca had looked at me with pure exasperation. “You’re a spoiled, entitled brat.” Just like that, the crush died. And I have hated him ever since. “I see that look,” Victoria said, amused. “What look?” “The one where you’re remembering why you two don’t get along.” “I wasn’t. And I didn’t throw a cupcake at him.” “You absolutely did. He was wearing a white tuxedo.” “He deserved it,” I muttered. Victoria chuckled. “You two certainly know how to make an impression. But you wouldn’t really be working for him. You’d be working for the children. Luca’s barely home anyway, races, training, sponsor events. You’d hardly see him.” I thought about it. Taking care of three kids couldn’t be that hard. Feed them. Keep them alive. Maybe read a bedtime story or two. And I desperately needed the money. “When would I start?” I asked slowly. Victoria’s smile widened. “So that’s a yes?” I sighed dramatically. “I need the money. Fine.” She reached across the island and squeezed my hand. “I’ll call Luca tonight.” I nodded, already wondering what I’d just agreed to. Tomorrow, I would officially become a nanny. How difficult could one temporary job possibly be?