Page 7 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Nanny

"There's no mistake, Oklahoma."

My hands squeezed until my nails dug into my palms. "My name is Lacey," I said through gritted teeth. How I wanted to slap that smug look off his face, but that wasn't exactly the way to endear oneself to one's new boss.

"Lacey, then. Your interview begins right now. Your first task is to get Emilia to eat her lunch." He gestured for me to step further into his office.

For the first time, I took in the room. Framed by a row of floor-to-ceiling windows behind a massive glass desk, the office overlooked the busy streets of Huntington Harbor below. Sunlight flooded the room, highlighting how perfect and sterile it was. Everything was dark leather, glass, and polished metal. It was masculine, cold, and expensive. Definitely not the place for a four-year-old child.

The child turned out to be an adorable girl with big round hazel eyes. Her shiny black hair was tied in a messy ponytail. Sitting on the floor, she clutched a stuffed rabbit in her arms as she sulked behind a black leather chair with metal legs.

With a quiet snick, the door closed behind me. I was all alone with the fearsome Mr. Wulfthorn and my new charge.

Emilia stared up at me with wary reserve.

What had happened to her to make her so distrustful at such a young age? Maybe this would work better if I got on her level. Carefully, I kneeled next to her.

"Hi, Emilia. My name is Lacey. And who is your friend here?"

She fiddled with the stuffed toy's ear in between her fingers. "Mr. Snuffles."

"Mr. Snuffles looks like he's hungry."

Emilia sniffed. "I'm hungry too."

"Okay, then let's get you something to eat. Can you get up?"

She shook her head.

With a pleading glance at Mr. Wulfthorn, I gestured my head in the direction of the food I noticed on his desk. His expression was closed off and unreadable, and for a moment, I was afraid he wasn't going to help me.

He nodded. Moving with a quick confident stride, he retrieved the entire place setting and brought it over to me. I took the plate and examined the contents. It seemed like all four-year-olds had the same tastebuds, even if they had a billionaire at their beck and call.

I placed the plate on the floor in front of Emilia, then the cup of milk and the silverware. At the sight of the food, she scrunched up her face and turned her head away. Even as inexperienced with children as I was, I spotted the impending meltdown.

Nervously, I nudged my glasses up my nose. "What's wrong, Emilia?"

She clutched the stuffed toy to her chest and shook her head.

Well, this wasn't going very well. There was no need to turn around to know that Mr. Wulftorn was not impressed with my childcare skills. I was totally failing this interview.

Wait a minute. My eyes landed on the stuffed rabbit and then the cartoon rabbit on her shirt. An idea struck me.

First, I used a fork to arrange all the chicken nuggets in a circle on the plate. Then, I split a matchstick carrot in half and placed the pieces above a nugget, so that they formed a pair of bunny ears. I repeated this until every nugget had a set of ears.

By now, both Wulfthorns were staring at what I was doing with fascination.

"Do you like ketchup or ranch, Emilia?" I asked gently.

"Both." She climbed to her hands and knees and crept closer to me. Her eyes lit up as she watched me work.

"A lady of refined tastes," I commented. Using the spoon, I placed big dollops of ranch dressing on each nugget, giving them fluffy cotton tails. Finally, I drew ketchup eyes and whiskers on the nuggets.

"Bunnies!" Emilia whispered in amazement. "I used to have blueberry bunny pancakes with Mommy."

I set the fork down on the plate. My heart broke at the sadness in her voice as she mentioned her mother.

"I'm sure they were the best pancakes, sweetheart."

A muscle in Mr. Wulfthorn's jaw jumped. "We can have bunny pancakes too. I'll tell Chef Rosa to make some tomorrow morning if that's what you like."

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