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Chapter 1
Olivia
Interviews are the worst, and I’m late for this one. Because I got lost. Inside the building. Ugh.
Jogging down the maze of hallways, dread creeps through my veins as I imagine selling myself to a stranger, sweaty and out of breath.
Even worse, I’m meeting my dad’s best friend. I’ll be some kid to him, barely worth his time. He’s doing this as a favor, after all. So why am I bothering?
New York City rent rates pop into my mind. Oh, yeah, that’s why.
I scan the placards on the doors until I finally reach one with Noah Steele plastered across it. I knock lightly and enter, but it’s empty.
I didn’t get lost again, did I? I saw his name, for heaven’s sake. Is there another door?
“Mr. Steele? It’s John’s daughter, Olivia. Hello?”
No one answers, so I sprint back toward the entrance, searching for a door I could have missed.
“Mr. Ste—”
Turning the corner, I run full speed into a man’s firm chest. With a surprised shriek, my plastic cup of cold brew is smashed between our bodies, launching the frigid liquid onto the both of us. As the mess drips down my chest, I see it’s landed all over his face and is spilling down his pristine white shirt. Oh, shit.
“Well, excuse me.”
The man’s deep voice is as smooth as whiskey, and underneath the coffee he’s now wearing, he’s absolutely gorgeous—and really pissed.
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going. Crap.”
I scramble in my purse for a few spare napkins and frantically wipe at the growing stains on his shirt.
“Clearly. Please, just stop. I don’t—”
His hands reach for mine, holding them in place as he glares at me. Times slows, and I’m locked in his mesmerizing gaze as his grip on my hands tightens ever so slightly.
“I’m terribly sorry. I…”
A chill runs through me as coffee drips under my shirt, but my cheeks burn. The guy is about my dad’s age, with stormy green eyes flecked with gold that I can only see because I’m mere inches from his face.
Laughter cuts through the tense silence.
Startled, I look just behind the older man to see a young boy who’s the spitting image of the one I’m entangled with. I quickly drop my hands and step back.
Tears prick the corner of the boy’s eyes as he continues to laugh so hard I’m afraid he might fall over.
It’s completely infectious, and I break into my own giggles that have me fighting for breath.
“Ha! Look at your shirt, Dad! Didn’t you, like, just buy that one?”
Looking back at the tall, physically fit gentlemen to whom I’ve given an impromptu makeover, my eyes widen, and my heart drops again.
“Oh, really? I’m… wow, I can only say I’m sorry so many times, but I really am. I’m late for this nanny interview.” Wait.
My ears ring as my pulse skyrockets. Little boy. Older guy. Oh, fuck, seriously?
“You’re Mr. Steele, aren’t you?”
He wipes a hand across his face, clenching his jaw.
