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"What would I do without you constantly boosting my confidence?"
"You'll never have to worry about that."
We hug again and part ways, and I get into my car. My heart is full of excitement and nervousness.
I'm driving to my interview, my hands gripping the steering wheel too tightly. My mind is racing. I take a deep breath to calm myself down.
The house is a grand, sprawling mansion with white pillars and manicured lawns. I feel intimidated and out of place in my simple white blouse and skirt.
My footsteps echo on the driveway as I approach the door. I'm wringing my hands, not sure what to expect. What if I don't get the job? I can feel my anxiety riding high.
I ring the doorbell, and it chimes through the house. A few moments later, a woman answers the door. She has kind eyes and a warm smile.
"Hello, you must be Quinn. I'm Daniella. I'm the one who scheduled the interview," she says, extending her hand.
I shake it, offering a small smile. "Thanks for having me today."
"Of course, of course. Follow me," she says, leading me through the ornate front hall deeper into the house. The walls are painted in shades of cream, and the floors are covered with large rugs in muted colors. The furniture is tasteful and modern, blending well with the overall look. It's almost too perfect—like something out of a magazine.
As I follow Daniella through the house, I see framed photographs on the walls—all centered around a little girl with sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes.
The study is cozy, with two overstuffed chairs in front of a gas fireplace. A massive window overlooks the garden.
"Take a seat, and we'll get started," she says, gesturing towards the armchair. "Mr. Petrov will be with you shortly."
“I assumed I would be meeting with the mother.”
“No, Mr. Petrov is divorced. Sorry we had to keep so many details from you, but he takes his privacy very seriously, and the press is always looking for information about him and his family.”
I nod, even though I have no idea what it is like to have the press interested in my life.
I sit down, trying to compose myself. Daniella disappears, leaving me alone in the room. I look at the family photos on the walls and the books arranged neatly on the shelves.
My stomach tightens, and I leap to my feet.
One of the photos is of three men standing together on a golf course. I blink several times to confirm what I see. It's been nearly two weeks, but I still remember his face and the deep tone of his voice. No picture can adequately capture his handsome features. A square jaw, bright blue eyes, thick dark-blonde hair with a touch of salt and pepper, and an ever-present half-smile.
"Oh my…"
The door to the study opens.
"Good morning, Miss..." The words die on his lips as he takes me in. "Quinn."
It's him —it's Ezra, the man from the store.
He smiles at me with an intensity that makes me feel exposed. He's wearing a pressed white shirt and suit pants, making him look very professional. His face looks more worn than the man from the grocery store. But it's him. There is no doubt in my mind.
He steps forward, extending his hand and introducing himself. I take it, my heart pounding in my chest. "I didn't think I would ever see you again."
I lick my lips. "I hope you don't think less of me because of what happened that night. Mr. Petrov, I'm a good candidate for the job and—"
He holds up his large hand, halting my babbling. "I was happy to help, and there’s no shame in needing help.”
Says the man who’s clearly a billionaire. He doesn’t know what deciding between paying the light bill or buying groceries is like.
"I'm glad it won't affect me getting the job."
He gestures for me to sit, then sits in the opposite armchair. "Let's get started with the interview." He holds my gaze with his intense eyes. "Why do you want to be a nanny?
