Chapter 2 London, A Billionaire House. and a Very Grumpy Man
My phone buzzed.
I grabbed it instantly.
For a second I just stared at the email notification on the screen.
My heart was beating ridiculously fast.
"Okay... okay... don't panic," I muttered to myself.
Then I opened it.
Blackwood Residence
Your application has been reviewed. We would like to invite you for an interview.
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
"AAAAAAAAAA!"
I jumped off the bed and started pacing around my room like I had just won the lottery.
"I GOT AN INTERVIEW!"
My phone buzzed again.
The group chat.
Sophie: Why are you screaming in the chat??
Clara: Amelia what happened
I typed so fast my fingers almost tripped over each other.
Me: THE NANNY JOB REPLIED
Me: I HAVE AN INTERVIEW
Me: IN LONDON
Three dots appeared immediately.
Then...
Sophie: SHUT UP
Clara: WAIT ACTUALLY???
Me: YES
I flopped dramatically onto my bed.
"Oh my gosh."
This was actually happening.
London.
My phone buzzed again.
Sophie: Amelia Carter you are officially coming to London
I grinned at the ceiling.
"I really might be."
Three days later I was stepping out of the airport in London.
And the first thing I noticed?
The air.
It felt different.
Cooler.
Busier.
More... exciting.
"This city feels fast," I said.
Sophie nodded.
"Welcome to London."
Clara smiled.
"You look like a kid in a candy store."
"I feel like a kid in a candy store."
And it was true.
People everywhere. Red buses. Taxis. Tall buildings.
My brain was trying to process everything at once.
"This is insane," I whispered.
Sophie grinned.
"Wait until you see your billionaire nanny house."
"Stop calling it that."
"You applied to work for a billionaire family."
"Allegedly."
Clara laughed.
"Honestly Amelia, only you would move to another country and apply for a nanny job like it's a fun adventure."
"It is a fun adventure."
The morning of the interview felt like a fashion disaster.
Or a fashion show.
Or both.
My suitcase was open on the floor and clothes were everywhere.
Sophie sat on the couch watching the chaos.
"You've been choosing an outfit for thirty minutes."
"This is important!"
"You're not meeting royalty."
"Maybe they're secretly royalty."
Clara rolled her eyes.
"Please just pick something."
Then I found it.
My white dress.
The soft fabric flowed down in layered ruffles, light and airy. The short puff sleeves made it look sweet and a little vintage, and the row of delicate buttons down the front made it feel simple and elegant.
It wasn't formal.
But it was cute.
And friendly.
I held it up proudly.
"This one."
Sophie blinked.
"That's your interview outfit?"
"Yes."
Clara tilted her head.
"It looks like you're going to a picnic."
"I'm applying to take care of a child!"
"You're also meeting a billionaire."
"I want to look approachable."
Sophie stared at me.
"You're unbelievably stubborn."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
Too late.
Decision made.
Outfit chosen.
The taxi ride to the house took about twenty minutes.
The further we drove, the quieter the streets became.
Then the driver slowed down.
"Here we are."
I looked up.
And my brain stopped working.
"Oh."
The house was huge.
Not huge like normal huge.
Huge like supervillain headquarters huge.
The entire building was sleek black glass and sharp modern lines. Massive windows stretched across both floors, reflecting the cloudy sky above. Soft lights glowed along the edges of the house, making it look dramatic and expensive.
Dark pools of water surrounded the white stone pathways, perfectly designed like some kind of luxury art display.
It looked less like a house and more like something an extremely rich movie character would live in.
Sophie leaned forward.
"...You're working here?"
"Maybe," I said weakly.
Clara whistled.
"That house probably costs more than our entire university."
"I'm starting to feel underdressed."
"You're wearing ruffles," Sophie reminded me.
"Yes."
"Very bold choice."
"I stand by my decision."
After my friends wished me luck (and Sophie dramatically told me not to embarrass them), I walked toward the gate.
My heart was racing.
"Confidence," I whispered to myself.
I pressed the intercom.
A voice answered.
"Yes?"
"Hi! Um...hello. I'm Amelia Carter. I'm here for the interview."
There was a pause.
Then the gates opened.
Oh.
This suddenly felt very official.
I walked up the path toward the massive glass doors.
A woman in a neat black uniform opened them before I even knocked.
"You must be Miss Carter."
"Yes," I said quickly.
"Please come inside."
The interior was just as impressive.
Huge open spaces.
Marble floors.
Modern furniture that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.
My head turned left and right trying to see everything.
Then—
"Miss Carter."
I turned around.
And immediately froze.
The man standing behind me looked... intimidating.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Dark hair.
Sharp jawline.
And a deep permanent frown carved into his face like smiling had never been invented.
His grey eyes were cold and assessing.
He wore a perfectly tailored black suit that made him look even more intimidating.
This had to be him.
Dominic Blackwood.
And he was staring directly at me.
Then his gaze slowly moved down.
To my dress.
His frown deepened.
Silence stretched between us.
"Well," he finally said, voice low and controlled.
"That is certainly... an outfit."
My stubborn side immediately activated.
"It's friendly."
His eyes lifted back to mine.
"Friendly."
"Yes."
"You're aware this is a job interview."
"Yes."
"And you chose ruffles."
"Yes."
Another long pause.
He didn't smile.
Didn't even look amused.
Just... unimpressed.
"Come in," he said coldly.
I followed him into a large office.
He sat behind a sleek black desk and gestured to the chair across from him.
"So," he said.
"You applied to be my son's nanny."
"Yes."
"You have professional childcare experience?"
"I babysat my cousins."
"How old?"
"Four and six."
"My son is four."
"That's perfect!" I said brightly.
His expression didn't change.
"Children are not simple."
"I know."
"They are unpredictable."
"Sometimes."
"They are loud."
"Usually."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"And you seem very... enthusiastic."
"I like kids."
"Optimism does not qualify someone for this position."
I straightened stubbornly.
"I'm patient."
He studied me for a long moment.
Like he was trying to figure out what planet I came from.
"My son does not speak to strangers," he said finally.
"That's okay."
"He does not trust people easily."
"That's okay too."
"You believe patience will solve this?"
"Yes."
His jaw tightened slightly.
"You are very confident."
"I'm optimistic."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
Not a smile.
More like mild irritation.
Before he could say anything else...
A small movement caught my attention.
I glanced toward the door.
A little boy was standing there.
Quiet.
Watching.
Big grey-blue eyes.
Soft dark hair.
Noah.
He didn't say anything.
He just stared at me silently.
Carefully.
Curiously.
I smiled.
"Hi."
He didn't answer.
But he didn't run away either.
Dominic noticed him.
"Noah."
The boy remained still for another moment.
Then he slowly stepped backward and disappeared down the hallway.
Dominic looked slightly surprised.
"That was unusual."
"Why?"
"He normally avoids strangers."
I shrugged slightly.
"Maybe he was curious."
Dominic leaned back in his chair.
His grey eyes studied me again.
Longer this time.
Colder.
Like he was reconsidering something.
Then he said quietly...
"Perhaps."