Page 10 of Triplet Trouble For My Billionaire Boss

“Thanks, Evelyn,” I say under my breath as she passes by me to grab another dish.

“Anytime,” she replies, her tone low. But her next words are firm. “You need to think about what he’s really asking for, Mr. Wagner. It’s not just about a nanny.”

I don’t respond, but her words stick with me as I drain the rest of my coffee.

“I have some calls to make,” I say, standing. “Finish your breakfast.”

Robbie nods again, his gaze still fixed on his plate.

I walk out of the kitchen, my footsteps echoing in the quiet house. The morning sunlight feels too bright, too harsh, as I head toward my office.

I tell myself it’s fine. Robbie will adjust. He always does.

But the image of his downcast expression lingers, and for the first time in a long while, I wonder if I’m the one who needs to adjust.

Chapter Four

Annie

The fluorescent lights above hum softly as I type away at my desk.

It’s mid-Monday morning, and the office is buzzing with activity—phones ringing, the murmur of voices from people walking across the lobby, and heels clacking loudly as people hurry by.

I try to focus on the task in front of me, sorting through emails and scheduling meetings, but my mind keeps drifting back to Friday night. Specifically, to Robbie.

He was so sweet. That shy smile, the way his hazel eyes lit up when he talked about dinosaurs—it’s hard not to think about him. I shouldn’t be dwelling on it. Babysitting was a one-time thing, and I have plenty to worry about here at Silver Screen Studios.

But the memory lingers.

I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on my computer screen. There’s a spreadsheet to update and a dozen unanswered emails in my inbox. No time for distractions.

“Annie,” a voice calls from behind me, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I turn to see Virginia, Mr. Wagner’s executive assistant, standing with an air of brisk efficiency. She’s holding a tablet in one hand and a phone in the other, multitasking like it’s second nature.

“Will you please come with me? Mr. Wagner wants to see you in his office,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument.

My stomach twists. Mr. Wagner? Why?

“Uh, okay,” I say, standing and smoothing my skirt nervously.

Virginia doesn’t wait for a response. She’s already heading back toward the elevator, the clicking of her heels sharp and purposeful. I grab my notepad and follow, my mind racing.

What could this be about? Had I done something wrong? Did Robbie say something? Am I about to get fired?

The questions pile up as I step into the elevator after Virginia. The button for the top floor is already lit up. Neither of us speak, so I just watch as the numbers light up one by one.

When the doors open, I step into a sleek hallway lined with glass walls and framed movie posters. The air feels different up here—quieter, more serious. Intimidating.

Virginia walks ahead of me and barely spares me a glance as she gestures for me to follow her.

“This way,” she says curtly, juggling her phone and tablet withease.

Virginia is... also intimidating, to say the least. She’s in her 40s, with sharp features and an even sharper gaze. Her dark hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and her tailored suit fits her perfectly. She exudes confidence, the kind that makes you want to straighten your posture and avoid making eye contact.

As we walk, she answers a call on her headset, rattling off details about a client meeting while simultaneously making notes on her tablet. I can barely keep up with her pace.

She stops in front of a large wooden door and gives me a quick once-over before knocking.

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