2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Annie
The GPS announces my arrival with a crisp, robotic voice. I glance up at the towering gates in front of me, the wrought iron intricate and imposing.
Beyond them, Cole Wagner’s mansion looms like something out of a movie, all clean lines and glass, illuminated by soft exterior lighting that makes the property feel even larger than it is.
I pull my ancient car to a stop just outside the gates, feeling like an imposter in this neighborhood. The homes here are massive, with sprawling lawns and high fences, a world away from the tiny apartment with patchy drywall that I share with a roommate.
Taking a deep breath, I punch in the access code Mr. Wagner texted me. The gates slide open with a soft hum, and I drive up the long, winding driveway. The path is flanked by perfectly manicured hedges and tall, swaying palm trees, the kind of detail that screams wealth without even trying.
By the time I round a bend and see the house, my jaw is on the floor.
But if the grounds are impressive, they’re nothing compared to the house itself. Or should I say mansion?
The mansion is grand and elegant, blending modern with traditional warmth. It’s not easy to see all the details in the darkening night, but the lights surrounding the property give me the impression of soft gray stone and huge arched windows that dominate the walls.
Warm, inviting light glows through the windows. The driveway is lined with flowers and greens of some sort, which I can only see because of lights running along the borders and leading me across the property.
The driveway takes me past the who-knows-how-many-car garage that is an extension of the house and deposits me in front of the grand staircase that sweeps up to the entrance, which is flanked by large urns overflowing with even more flowers.
The double doors are dark and imposing as I pull to a stop in front of the staircase.
It’s somehow not at all, yet in some ways exactly, what I expect of the home of Cole Wagner.
I have no idea where I’m supposed to park, so I just leave it where it is on the driveway and step out. The house seems somehow even bigger once I’m outside of the car.
Nerves hit me full force as I stand there and stare at the front door.
What am I doing here? I’m a receptionist, not a nanny. I know next to nothing about kids, let alone how to babysit one. But Cole’s offer was too good to refuse, and honestly, I couldn’t say no to him even if I tried. The man has a way of making you feel like his problems are your problems.
Taking a deep breath, I adjust the strap of my bag on my shoulder and smooth my skirt before reluctantly taking the first step up to the massive double doors.
Up close, the house looks even more perfect, like something out of a glossy magazine. I feel like I’ve just stepped onto a movie set.
Before I can even knock, the door opens, and I’m greeted by a woman in her 40s with brown hair neatly pinned back and sharp brown eyes that size me up in a split second. She’s dressed in a sleek black dress and heels and seems a bit frazzled but acts like she’s trying to stay calm.
“You must be Annie. I was notified by the gate that you were here,” she says briskly, stepping aside to let me in. “Come in, come in.”
I step into the entry way, my breath catching as I take in my surroundings.
The interior is as polished as the exterior—sleek marble floors, high ceilings, and an open staircase that spirals elegantly upward. Everything is pristine, from the massive chandelier overhead to the expensive looking artwork lining the walls.
“I’m Evelyn. I work the kitchen here,” the woman continues, closing the door behind me.
“I’d give you a proper tour, but my husband and I have a show to catch.” She checks her watch, muttering something under her breath. “I’ll introduce you to Robbie, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Of course,” I manage to say, clutching my bag a little tighter. My heels click against the marble as I follow her through the house, trying not to gawk at the sheer luxury of it all.
“Now,” Evelyn says briskly, glancing over her shoulder at me, “there are a few things you should know.”
“Sure,” I say, adjusting the strap of my bag.
“Robbie’s a sweet boy,” she begins. “Quiet, polite. But he’s five, so he can get a little... energetic if he’s overtired. I’ve already taken care of his dinner and bathed him, so he’s ready for bed when the time comes.”
I nod, keeping pace with her as we move deeper into the house.
“After dinner, he usually has about an hour of playtime—he loves his dinosaurs, so be prepared for a bit of a prehistoric show-and-tell,” she adds with a small smirk.
“That sounds manageable,” I say, though I feel a flicker of nervousness. What if I screw up somehow?
Evelyn stops abruptly, turning to face me. “One rule—Robbie doesn’t watch TV or play on tablets before bed. It winds him up too much. From now until eight, he can watch TV and have two small snacks. The only sugary snack he can have is a pack of fruit snacks, otherwise, he’ll never get to sleep. Other than that, he can have popcorn or a bag of chips while watching TV. Anything without sugar and nothing after eight.”
“Got it,” I reply, trying to absorb everything at once.
“At eight, he brushes his teeth, which he can do on his own. Then it’s straight to bed for a bedtime story and lights out at eight-thirty.”
She studies me for a moment, her sharp brown eyes narrowing slightly. “If there’s an emergency, you can reach me or Ellis. He’s the head-of-household. Only contact Mr. Wagner as a last resort. I’ve left the contact information for you in the foyer. Oh, and one last thing: Rexy.”
I blink. “Rexy?”
“His stuffed dinosaur,” Evelyn explains. “If he doesn’t have Rexy when he goes to bed, it’s a whole ordeal. Make sure it’s within arm’s reach before he settles in.”
“Got it,” I repeat, feeling overwhelmed. He was one five-year-old. How hard could it be?
How bad would it really be if I messed up while babysitting the CEO’s son?
Evelyn nods, seemingly satisfied, and continues leading me deeper into the house.
She eventually stops in a cozy-looking living room, an odd contrast to the rest of the house. It’s warm and inviting, with plush couches, bookshelves filled to the brim, and a soft area rug that looks like it could swallow you whole.
“This is where Robbie usually hangs out in the evenings,” Evelyn says, gesturing to the room. Then she calls out, “Robbie!”
There’s a pause, followed by the sound of small footsteps. A moment later, a little boy peeks out from behind one of the couches.
He’s tiny for his age, with messy brown hair and wide hazel eyes. Oddly, he reminds me nothing of Cole who has dark, nearly black hair and green eyes.
Robbie clutches a stuffed dinosaur who I presume to be Rexy to his chest, his gaze flitting between me and Evelyn.
“This is Annie,” Evelyn says in a soft, kind voice, gesturing at me. “She’s going to hang out with you tonight.”
Robbie doesn’t say anything, just shifts his weight from one foot to the other, the dinosaur crinkling slightly in his grip.
“Hi, Robbie,” I say softly, crouching down to his level. “It’s nice to meet you.”
He doesn’t respond, but his grip on the dinosaur loosens slightly. I take that as a good sign.
“Can you come over here and say hi, Robbie?” Evelyn says, but I see her glance at her watch again.
Robbie hesitates, glancing at me and then at Evelyn. Finally, he takes a few tentative steps forward, the soft thud of his small feet on the plush rug barely audible. He stops a few feet away, clutching Rexy like a lifeline .
“Hi,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
I smile, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. “That’s Rexy, right?” I nod toward the stuffed dinosaur in his hands.
His eyes brighten slightly, and he nods. “Yeah.”
“He looks pretty cool,” I say. “What kind of dinosaur is he?”
Robbie’s small brow furrows as he considers the question. “He’s a T-Rex.”
“Of course,” I say with a grin. “The king of the dinosaurs.”
The corners of his mouth twitch upward, almost like he’s fighting a smile. Progress.
Am I good with kids? Who knew?
“All right, you two,” Evelyn cuts in briskly, her tone still kind but clearly in a rush. She does take the time though to stoop to Robbie’s level. “Robbie, be good for Annie. I will be back after the show to wait for your dad, but you’ll be asleep by then, okay?”
“Okay,” he says softly, glancing at her before looking back at me.
Evelyn turns to me, pulling a set of keys from her pocket. “The house keys, just in case. I’m going to set the alarm, so don’t wander outside. Keep everything locked after I leave, and don’t let anyone in. Anyone who needs to be in the house can get in on their own. If you need anything, call.”
“Got it,” I say, taking the keys.
She lowers her voice a bit. “You’ll do fine. He’s a sweet kid, just a little shy. Give him time.”
She checks her watch again, muttering something under her breath before turning to Robbie one last time and kneeling to give him a hug. “Goodnight, sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Robbie nods and squeezes her back with his little arms then gives her a small wave as she turns and heads for the door. The click of her heels disappears down the hall, leaving the two of us alone.
Evelyn hesitates for a moment, her gaze flicking to Robbie. “You be good, okay, kiddo?”
Robbie nods, his grip on the dinosaur tightening again.
With that, she’s gone, the door closing behind her with a decisive click.
The silence that follows is deafening.
Robbie and I stand there awkwardly, neither of us sure what to say. I glance around the room, searching for something—anything—to break the tension.
“So, what do you want to do?” I ask, crouching down again. “I bet you have a lot of cool stuff.”
Robbie hesitates, then nods slowly. He sets Rexy on the couch and grabs my hand, pulling me toward a corner of the room where a bin of toys sits neatly against the wall .
For the next hour, Robbie shows me his collection of dinosaurs, explaining each one with surprising detail. His shyness fades little by little as I ask him questions about each one, replaced by an enthusiasm that’s both endearing and infectious.
As I sit cross-legged on the floor, listening to him describe the difference between a Triceratops and a Stegosaurus, which he pronounces surprisingly well, I realize that maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
***
Robbie’s tiny hand grips the edge of the storybook as he stares at the illustrations with wide, curious eyes. He’s tucked under the covers of his massive, king-sized bed, surrounded by a fortress of pillows and a small army of dinosaur plushies. Rexy, of course, holds the position of honor at his side.
“And then,” I say, turning the page dramatically, “the brave knight swung his sword and shouted, ‘Not today, dragon!’”
Robbie giggles, and his hazel eyes light up with delight as I put on my best “dragon roar,” waving my free hand like a claw.
“Do it again!” he says, pointing to the page.
“Again?” I ask, feigning exhaustion. “You’re going to wear me out, kiddo.”
He nods enthusiastically, his brown hair flopping over his forehead.
“Okay, okay,” I say, laughing. I lean closer, lowering my voice into a deep growl. “‘Not today, dragon!’”
Robbie laughs again, clutching Rexy to his chest.
The clock on the bedside table reads 8:15, but I don’t have the heart to end the story just yet. He’s so sweet, so innocent, and he seems so happy. It’s like he’s forgotten his shyness from earlier, replaced by the excitement of a five-year-old lost in a story.
Despite that excitement, though, I notice his eyelids start to droop as I turn another page. The plush comforter rises and falls with each slow, steady breath, and before I finish the next paragraph, he’s out cold.
I close the book quietly and set it on the nightstand, taking a moment to look at him. His features are delicate, soft in the way that only a child’s can be. There’s something heartbreaking about how peaceful he looks, clutching Rexy like it’s the most important thing in the world.
“Goodnight, Robbie,” I whisper, tucking the blanket around him.
I switch off the bedside lamp and tiptoe out of the room, pulling the door closed behind me.
The hallway is quiet as I make my way back to the room we were in all night, my heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor. The house feels even larger now, the empty spaces echoing faintly with each step.
It’s kind of creepy, really. Such a massive house and completely empty. I wonder who stays on the property besides Cole and Robbie.
The living room is as elegant as I remember, with its plush sofas, tasteful artwork, and the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the sprawling backyard that I’m sure is as grand as the rest of the house. Unfortunately, it’s too dark to see much of it, with only small landscaping lighting visible.
The whole house is the kind of space that looks like it belongs in a high-end design magazine, and yet it feels oddly cold, as if no one really lives here.
I sink into one of the armchairs, curling my legs underneath me. My mind drifts back to Robbie, to the way his face lit up during the story.
For a moment, I feel a pang of envy. Not because of his life or the mansion he lives in, but because of his innocence. I can’t remember the last time I felt that carefree.
I glance at the bookshelves, the surfaces cluttered with frames. Most of the photos are of Robbie: Robbie at the beach, Robbie at what looks like a birthday party, Robbie smiling shyly at the camera. In a few, he’s with other people—Evelyn in one, an older man in another.
But none of them include Cole .
It strikes me as odd. You’d think there’d be at least one photo of the two of them together, but there isn’t. There are no pictures of any woman who could be Robbie’s mom either, though I vaguely remember someone at work mentioning that she passed away some years ago.
The absence feels deliberate, like Cole’s trying to erase himself from the narrative.
I wonder what that’s like for Robbie, growing up surrounded by empty spaces. He probably doesn’t even realize it yet, but one day he will.
My gaze shifts to the window, where the darkest night is somehow beautiful and serene, but again, empty.
I shake my head, trying to shake off the melancholy. This isn’t my life to judge.
I have my own life to worry about. The reason I even took this job and the one at Silver Screen in the the first place.
I let my thoughts drift to my own life, to the dream I had to put on hold.
Fashion design.
It feels like a lifetime ago now, though it’s only been a couple of years since I dropped out of school. Money was tight, and I just couldn’t make it work. I’d taken a job as a barista to pay the bills, which was barely enough to scrape by.
Landing the receptionist position at Silver Screen Studios had felt like a miracle, even if it wasn’t exactly high-paying .
Still, it was more than what I’d been making before, plus I still worked some shifts as a barista. It gave me hope—hope that maybe, someday, I’d get back to school, back to the dream I’d been chasing since I was a kid.
And tonight? Tonight would make a huge difference. The money Cole offered me for babysitting was three times more than I made in a week, and it would go straight into my savings.
I lean my head back against the chair, letting out a slow breath.
It’s funny, in a way. Cole Wagner, the billionaire CEO, was never more than a distant figure at work. Receptionists don’t generally have much contact with the people in the “C” suite.
Cole is intimidating, sure—tall and broad-shouldered, with sharp green eyes that seem to see right through you—and he’s awfully easy on the eyes.
Okay, that’s an understatement. He’s gorgeous, with dark hair that’s almost black and a jawline that could cut glass. But there’s something almost dangerous about him—his coldness, maybe—which is somewhat off-putting, but which I find simultaneously compelling.
None of that matters, though, because he is also completely out of my league. Men like him don’t even notice women like me.
And yet, tonight, he did notice me, although probably out of desperation. He asked for my help, practically begged me to save him from a last-minute disaster .
I glance at the empty hallway, wondering what he’s like as a father. He clearly loves Robbie, otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so desperate when his nanny quit, but he doesn’t seem to be present in the way that counts.
My gaze drifts back to the photos on the bookshelf, and I feel a pang of sympathy. Losing his wife must have been devastating.
I don’t know the details, but I can only imagine how much it would hurt to lose someone like that, someone you’d built a life with. Maybe that’s why he keeps himself out of the photos. Maybe it’s his way of coping.
I let out a sigh, pulling the blanket from the back of the chair and draping it over my legs. The house feels quieter than ever, the silence pressing in around me.
Tomorrow, I’ll go back to being just another employee, a receptionist sitting behind a desk. But tonight? Tonight, I’m a part of this world, even if it’s only for a little while.