Chapter 3Necessary Inconvenience
(Dominic's POV)
Silence was something I valued.
In business, silence meant control. It meant people were thinking before they spoke. It meant no one was wasting time.
In my house, however, silence meant something entirely different.
It meant emptiness.
I stood in front of the glass wall in my office, staring down at the black reflecting pool outside. The water barely moved, its surface reflecting the cloudy London sky like a dark mirror.
Most people would probably call this house impressive.
Architectural magazines certainly did.
The modern structure of black glass and sharp lines had been designed specifically to feel powerful. Intimidating even. It was meant to represent success.
Blackwood Holdings.
The largest investment and technology corporation in the United Kingdom.
My company.
At twenty-five years old I was the youngest CEO in the country.
The youngest billionaire as well, according to the endless articles that insisted on discussing my personal life.
None of that interested me.
Success wasn't about fame.
It was about control.
And control required discipline.
Which was why the silence in this house had become... noticeable.
Too noticeable.
"Sir."
I turned slightly.
Mrs. Whitmore stood near the office door, her posture perfectly straight as always. She had managed the household since before I moved here. Efficient, composed, and impossible to intimidate.
"Yes?"
"It's about Noah."
My jaw tightened slightly.
Everything was about Noah lately.
"What about him?"
"He has refused dinner again."
I looked at the clock.
7:40 PM.
"He ate at lunch."
"Yes, sir. But only half."
Children were exhausting.
Numbers were simpler.
Contracts were simpler.
Even hostile business negotiations were simpler than trying to understand the mind of a four-year-old.
"Where is he now?" I asked.
"In the playroom."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
Of course he was.
Noah preferred being alone.
Most people thought that was strange for a child his age.
I didn't.
Noah was observant.
Quiet.
Careful with his words.
He didn't waste them.
Something I respected.
Still...
Mrs. Whitmore remained standing there.
Waiting.
"You have something else to say," I said.
"Yes, sir."
I folded my arms.
"Then say it."
Her expression remained polite.
"Children require interaction."
I said nothing.
"They require engagement."
"I'm aware."
"You are also extremely busy."
That was an understatement.
Blackwood Holdings was expanding aggressively across Europe. Three major acquisitions were currently in negotiation. Two international partnerships were still unresolved.
My schedule rarely allowed for breaks.
And yet...
Noah was my responsibility.
That fact had been clear the moment my brother died.
The memory surfaced suddenly.
Rain against the windshield.
A phone call in the middle of the night.
A car accident on the motorway.
Two deaths confirmed instantly.
My brother.
And his wife.
Noah had been only one year old.
I remembered standing in the hospital hallway, holding the baby for the first time.
He had been quiet even then.
Not crying.
Just staring up at me with those same grey eyes.
My brother's eyes.
I had made a decision that night.
Noah would stay with me.
I would raise him.
No discussion.
No alternatives.
Family was not negotiable.
"Sir," Mrs. Whitmore said gently.
I returned to the present.
"Yes."
"You have been considering hiring assistance."
A nanny.
The idea had been suggested multiple times.
Teachers.
Advisors.
My sister.
All of them insisting that Noah needed more attention than I could consistently provide.
I disliked the idea of strangers in my house.
Trust was expensive.
But Noah deserved more than empty rooms and a distant guardian who spent most days in meetings.
"Very well," I said finally.
"We'll review candidates."
Three weeks later I was regretting that decision.
"Next."
The word came out colder than intended.
The woman sitting across from my desk continued speaking anyway.
"...and with my degree in early childhood development, I believe structured play environments are extremely beneficial for children aged three to five."
I resisted the urge to close my eyes.
She had been speaking for nine minutes.
Nine.
"Thank you," I said flatly.
Mrs. Whitmore stepped forward politely.
"We will contact you with our decision."
The candidate left.
I leaned back in my chair.
"Unacceptable."
Mrs. Whitmore stood beside the desk with a folder.
"We still have one more candidate."
"Credentials?"
"Limited."
My frown deepened.
"Define limited."
"She recently graduated from university."
That already sounded problematic.
"Experience?"
"She mentioned babysitting younger relatives."
I stared at her.
"That is not professional experience."
"No, sir."
"Why was she shortlisted?"
Mrs. Whitmore hesitated.
"She seemed... enthusiastic."
Enthusiastic.
I disliked that word.
"Send her in," I said.
A few minutes later the door opened.
And the first thing I noticed was the dress.
White.
Soft.
Ridiculous.
Layered fabric with small ruffles that looked entirely inappropriate for a job interview.
My expression darkened immediately.
Then I looked at the woman wearing it.
Young.
Bright eyes.
And completely unaware that she had just walked into the most intimidating room in the house.
"Well," I said slowly.
"That is certainly... an outfit."
She straightened instantly.
"It's friendly."
I stared at her.
Friendly.
"You're aware this is a professional interview."
"Yes."
"And you chose ruffles."
"Yes."
There was absolutely no hesitation in her answer.
Interesting.
"Sit."
She did.
Most people became nervous in my office.
They avoided eye contact.
Fidgeted.
Spoke carefully.
This one simply looked curious.
"You applied to be my son's nanny," I said.
"Yes."
"Experience?"
"I babysat my cousins."
Not impressive.
"How old?"
"Four and six."
"My son is four."
Her expression brightened immediately.
"That's perfect."
Optimistic.
Possibly naive.
"You seem enthusiastic."
"I like kids."
"Children are not easy."
"I know."
"They are unpredictable."
"Sometimes."
"They can be difficult."
"That's okay."
Her tone was calm.
Confident.
Almost stubborn.
"My son does not speak to strangers."
"That's okay too."
"You believe patience will solve this."
"Yes."
I leaned back slightly.
"You are very confident."
"I'm optimistic."
Before I could respond...
Movement appeared near the doorway.
Noah.
He stood there silently.
Watching.
He always observed before approaching new situations.
Careful.
Thoughtful.
The woman noticed him immediately.
Her expression softened.
"Hi."
Noah didn't speak.
He simply stared at her.
Studying.
After a moment he stepped back into the hallway and disappeared.
I frowned slightly.
"That was unusual."
She blinked.
"Why?"
"He normally avoids strangers."
She shrugged.
"Maybe he was curious."
Perhaps.
Or perhaps children recognized things adults didn't.
Either way...
That small moment changed the interview.
Because Noah had stayed.
Even if only for a few seconds.
And that alone made her different from every other candidate.
I studied her again.
The stubborn expression.
The bright energy.
The completely inappropriate dress.
She was inexperienced.
Overly optimistic.
And likely to be disruptive to the calm order of this house.
Which meant hiring her would be inconvenient.
But Noah had stayed.
That mattered.
More than I was willing to admit.
"We'll contact you with our decision," I said.
But the decision had already been made.
Even if she didn't realize it yet.