The Nanny and the Single Dad Billionaire

1 ISABELLA

Reentering Mitchell Marks’s life was never part of the plan, but with Olivia by my side, turning back was no longer an option.

I looked at the towering gate of his estate. It was as if the iron bars were daring me to face the past I had spent a decade running from. Anxiety clawed its way up my throat.

“Mom, is this the place?” Olivia’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. Her big brown eyes sparkled with excitement as she peered out the window, her breath fogging the glass.

I forced a smile, though it felt tight and unnatural. “Yes, sweetheart. This is where we’ll be staying.”

“It’s huge! Like a castle!” Olivia exclaimed. The estate was all sharp angles and dark stone, beautiful in a cold, imposing way—just like the man who lived there.

Memories of him and us flashed through my mind—uninvited and unwanted. I had promised myself I wouldn’t think about him like this. Not now.

A few months ago, I never would have imagined myself here. Slowly, my life was coming undone, thread by thread.

My writing career, the dream I had poured my heart and soul into, had been a string of rejections and failed attempts. My trusted agent had taken my idea and ran with it to top it off.

Since she had the money and connections, I didn’t really have the power to sue her. I couldn’t pay the lawyer’s fees, and I couldn’t even pay my own bills.

The rent was overdue, and I could barely afford to put food on the table. I tried to stay strong for Olivia, but there were nights I cried myself to sleep, terrified of what the future held.

Tired of it all, I contacted my best friend, Tiffany, whose aunt owned a nanny agency. Tiffany, her aunt’s favorite niece, could get the woman to do anything. A few days later, the offer for this nanny position came.

It felt like a miracle. The pay was more than I could have hoped for, enough to pull us out of our financial hole. I was desperate, and the job seemed perfect—until I found out who my employer would be.

Mitchell Marks.

The name sent shockwaves through me. I couldn’t believe it. Mitchell, the same one who once held my heart, crushed it when his world became too chaotic. The same Mitchell who had unknowingly left me alone to raise our daughter.

The shock nearly made me decline the offer. But I couldn’t. I needed this job, and Olivia needed me to take it.

Still, to raise an objection and find more reasons to say no, I made the condition that my daughter had to come with me, as I had nowhere else to keep her. To my surprise, the agency messaged me that Mr. Marks had no problem with it.

I had assured myself that I could handle it and keep the past buried where it belonged. After all, he didn’t even know about Olivia. As far as he was concerned, I was just another nanny—someone hired to care for his troubled six-year-old son, Luke.

In front of his mansion, that assurance didn’t seem so assuring anymore.

Steadying myself as I parked the car, I took a deep breath. This was it. I looked at Olivia, her face full of the innocent wonder only children possessed.

“Ready to go inside?” I asked, opening the car door and stepping out.

Olivia nodded eagerly, practically bouncing in her seat as I helped her out of the car. Her hand slipped into mine, and the warmth of her touch grounded me.

The gravel crunched beneath our feet as we approached the entrance. I hesitated for just a moment before ringing the bell.

A few moments later, the door swung open to reveal a woman in her fifties, her face etched with strict lines of professionalism. Her sharp eyes looked me over, taking in every detail in a single, assessing glance.

“Ms. Kennedy, I presume?” she said, her tone as stiff as her posture. “I’m Mrs. Grey, Mr. Marks’s housekeeper. Welcome.”

“Yes, that’s me,” I replied, sounding far calmer than I felt. “This is Olivia.”

Olivia offered a shy smile, her hand gripping mine a little tighter. Mrs. Grey’s gaze softened slightly as she looked at my daughter.

“Please, come in,” she said, stepping aside to allow us entry.

The inside of the mansion was even more grand than I imagined. High ceilings stretched above us, chandeliers glittered with cold light, and the walls were lined with art that likely cost more than I had earned in my entire life.

Mrs. Grey led us through the long, winding hallways, her heels clicking sharply on the marble floors. “Mr. Marks is in his study,” she said as we approached a set of double doors. “He’s requested that you join him there once Miss Olivia is settled in her room. I’ll have someone bring up your luggage shortly.”

“Thank you,” I said, though my mind was already racing ahead to what awaited me behind those doors.

She led us to a bright, cheerful room meant for Olivia. It was decorated in soft pastels and had a large window overlooking the gardens. Olivia’s eyes lit up as she ran to the window, pressing her hands against the glass.

“Look, Mom. I can see everything from here!” Her voice bubbled with excitement.

I forced another smile. “It’s a lovely room, sweetheart. Why don’t you unpack some of your things while I talk to Mr. Marks?”

She nodded absently as she continued to stare at the garden.

I returned down the hallway toward the study, trying to stay calm. I reminded myself that I was there for Olivia and that this was just a job.

But who was I kidding? This was Mitchell. The man who had left me heartbroken and alone to face the consequences of our brief, passionate affair.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

And there he was, standing by the window, his back to me. He was as tall and broad-shouldered as I remember.

He didn’t turn around immediately or acknowledge my presence. His dark gaze was as intense as I remembered when he finally did. And now, it pierced through me as if trying to see into my soul. It made my soul feel vulnerable.

“You must be Isabella Kennedy. Would you prefer me to call you Miss or Mrs. Kennedy?”

My jaw dropped. Doesn’t he remember me? Or is he playing games here?

He might have known me by my middle name, Noel; back then, I was about 20 pounds heavier, and my hair was a different color, but my face hadn’t changed. This was a man I would recognize in a sea of men, but now he didn’t even know who I was. That wasn’t possible. At least, it shouldn’t be.

If he was playing games, that would make me angry. But if he genuinely didn’t remember me, that was even more hurtful. Wow, I must have been as insignificant as they come.

“Hello,” his deep voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Just Isabella is fine,” I said.

There was something different about him, too. His eyes were colder, harder, as if the years had carved away the bit of warmth I once knew.

Before I could say anything else, the door burst open behind me, and a small figure stormed into the room. It was Luke, Mitchell’s son; his cherub face was twisted in anger.

“I don’t want a nanny!” Luke shouted.

Mitchell’s expression hardened, but before he could speak, I stepped forward, kneeling at Luke’s level.

“Hi, Luke,” I said gently. “I’m Isabella. I’m not here to make you do anything you don’t want to do. I just want to be your friend.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed as he glared at me. “I don’t need any friends.”

I met his gaze, refusing to back down. “Everyone needs a friend.”

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes that reminded me so much of Mitchell that it made my heart ache. But then it was gone, replaced by the same defiance.

“No,” he said, his hands curled into fists. Then he turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Mitchell sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry about that. He’s a good kid. He needs someone who understands him. He’s been like that since the divorce. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

I stood. “I’ll find a way to reach him,” I assured.

Mitchell’s eyes met mine, a blend of emotions flickering through them, impossible to read. “I hope you can.”

Our eyes held until it grew awkward, and then I turned away.

Leaving the study, I felt my heart pounding harder than ever. I knew this was just the beginning—of what, I wasn’t sure. But as the door closed behind me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had just stepped into something extremely complicated.

Complicated to the point that it could destroy us all.

“Mom?” Olivia’s voice snapped me back to reality. She stood at the door of her room, holding up a doll she had pulled from her suitcase, her face lit up with excitement. “Can I play with this in the garden?”

“No, no. We just got here. We haven’t even settled in,” I said gently.

Her lips popped into a pout, but she nodded and went back to unpacking, her small hands carefully smoothing out her clothes before placing them in the drawers. I moved to the closet, pulling out the things I had brought.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, seeing Tiffany’s name flash across the screen. My heart gave a slight, grateful flutter. I answered quickly, pressing the phone to my ear.

“Hey,” I said, trying to sound steady.

“Did you make it with no problems?” Tiffany said with concern. “I’ve been waiting to hear from you.”

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I should have called you the moment we arrived.”

“How is it? How’s… you know who?” she asked.

I leaned against the dresser, staring at the floor. “It’s... it’s strange, Tiff. He doesn’t recognize me. Not at all.”

“For real?” The disbelief was evident in her voice.

“For real, Tiff.”

There was a pause at the other end, followed by a soft sigh. “Maybe that’s a good thing? You wanted to stay under the radar, right?”

“Yeah, but it feels... weird. I don’t know. I thought seeing me would bring everything back for him. But it’s like I never existed.” My voice cracked a little at the end.

“Give it time,” Tiffany said gently. “You’ve only just arrived. And he’s probably distracted—a lot on his mind and all. And remember why you’re there—for Olivia. That’s the only thing that matters.”

I nodded. “You’re right.”

“If it’s too much, call me, okay?” she said softly.

“I will. Thanks, Tiff,” I whispered.

“You got this,” she encouraged. “Take care of yourself. And Olivia.”

“I will. Talk soon.” I ended the call and stared at the phone in my hand for a few more seconds as if it could give me the strength I needed to get through it.

A knock at the door startled me. I turned to find Mrs. Grey standing in the doorway.

“Dinner is ready,” she said politely but firmly. “Mr. Marks requests that you and your daughter join him in the dining room.”

I nodded, offering her a small smile. “Thank you. We’ll be down soon.”

She gave a brief nod before disappearing down the hallway. I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. Dinner. With Mitchell.

I turned to find Olivia watching me with curious eyes. She had the look that said she knew something was wrong, even if she didn’t fully understand it. I smiled at her, but it felt weak.

When the last shirt was tucked into a drawer, I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection. I brushed my fingers through my dark hair and breathed through my lungs. “It’s just dinner,” I muttered.

“Mom? I’m ready,” Olivia chirped, already standing by the door. I smiled at her and took her hand.

When we reached the staircase, the tantalizing aroma of dinner wafted through the air.

“Smells good,” Olivia beamed.

We walked into the dining room, and Mitchell was already sitting there, his back to us.

For a moment, I froze again, but Olivia tugged at my hand, breaking the spell. I stepped forward and pulled out a seat for her. She wriggled in place and reached for the napkin, draping it over her lap like she had grown up.

I blinked to hold the moisture from my eyes and faced our host.