Page 14 of Triplet Trouble For My Billionaire Boss

“Yes,” I reply matter-of-factly. “Will that be a problem?”

She opens her mouth, then closes it again, clearly trying to find the right words. “Well... it’s nearly five o’clock. I can’t pack up my life in one night. I can’t even pack up my desk before the end of the day.”

I fight the urge to smile at her harassed expression. There’s something endearing about how flustered she looks, but I suppress it. Instead, I adopt a brusque tone. “Your desk will be packed by the time you get back downstairs.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Someone’s packing my desk? What if I had said no?”

I don’t bother answering that.

“You don’t have to be fully moved in by tomorrow morning,” I continue, ignoring her incredulous tone. “Pack a bag tonight. We’ll have movers pack up the rest from your apartment, or you can take the weekend to do it yourself, and the movers will transport it. Your choice.”

She takes a step back, her blue eyes wide and flustered. “I’d rather do it myself,” she says quickly.

I nod once. “Fine.”

There’s a beat of silence as she processeseverything.

“Remember,” I say, turning back to my computer, “7:00 a.m. tomorrow. You’ll be introduced to Ellis and the rest of the staff and take Robbie to school. Ellis will accompany you.”

I sense her hesitation, the faint shuffling of her shoes against the carpet.

“Well, okay,” she says eventually, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “I guess I’ll see you then.”

“I won’t be there,” I reply without looking up. “But Evelyn will be.”

“Oh.” There’s a pause, then she adds, “Thank you for the opportunity. Um... bye.”

I glance up just in time to see her heading for the door. My gaze lingers for a moment, trailing over her curvy hips and long legs in that pencil skirt. It’s not intentional—it just happens. And I feel my body respond as my pants tighten a bit uncomfortably.

Snapping my attention back to the computer, I suppress the urge to scowl at myself.

This is business, I remind myself. Strictly business.

Chapter Six

Annie

The mansion looks even more stunning in the morning light. On Friday evening, the soft glow of the exterior lights gave it an ethereal quality, but the daylight reveals its full grandeur.

The clean lines of the architecture are sharp and bold, softened by the lush greenery surrounding it. Tall palms line the driveway, their shadows falling gracefully across the manicured lawn.

The flowers I suspected were lining the driveway the other night are now fully visible in the golden morning light.

Beds of vibrant blooms in shades of pink, purple, and yellow cascade along the edges of the neatly trimmed hedges, adding bursts of color to the otherwise neutral tones of the house. Their fragrance mingles with the crisp morning air and I smell jasmine wafting through the air near the door.

The house itself is even more striking—and massive—than I remember, its soft gray stone both charming and elegant. Huge arched windows dominate the walls, reflecting the brilliant blue of the sky, almost making the mansion seem like part of the background.

As I pull into the circular driveway, the wheels of my car crunch softly over the gravel. My chest tightens slightly asI park in the same spot I used on Friday night, unsure if there’s a designated place for guests or, well, employees now. The thought still feels strange. Employee? Nanny? Neither word sits comfortably in my head, but I push the thought aside.

I shut off the engine and take a moment to steady myself. I’m not just a visitor this time—I’m here to stay, at least for now. The thought feels surreal.

Gripping the steering wheel, I glance at the small suitcase sitting in the passenger seat. I decide to leave it for later and step out of the car. The morning sun feels warm against my skin as I adjust the strap of my bag on my shoulder and smooth the fabric of my blouse.

Compared to the grandeur of the mansion, my car looks out of place, like a scuff on a polished diamond.

The grand double doors of the mansion stand ahead of me, flanked by oversized urns filled with cascading greenery and delicate white flowers. They’re imposing but somehow inviting, much like the house itself.

I climb the wide stone steps, and by the time I reach the doors, my palms are slightly damp, and I have to resist the urge to wipe them on my pants. Taking a deep breath, I lift my hand and knock.

---