THE BILLIONAIRE'S UNEXPECTED NANNY

Marcus.

My twin kids' loud cries pierced through the air, interrupting me in the middle of my sentence. In my office, I held onto the edge of the desk made of polished mahogany, pushing my free hand's fingers on my nose bridge. The room's board members, all well dressed and stern-faced, looked nervously at the door, which did nothing to stop the mayhem outside.

"We'll have to continue this later, gentlemen," I stated in a tense but controlled voice.

A barely noticeable spark of annoyance was brought on by the shuffling of papers and the whispered agreement. Marcus Blackwell was a real estate tycoon, a Forbes millionaire, and the designer of Manhattan's most upscale buildings. Embarrassment accentuated by the sound of youngsters sobbing as if the world were ending was not how meetings with me often concluded. However, nothing had been "normal" since my ex-wife Margaret had left the daughters in Ibiza with a letter stating that she wanted to "rediscover herself."

I walked confidently into the center of the chaos from the conference room, my fitted charcoal suit rustling on the Italian marble flooring. An whole tray of pastries had been flipped over the executive lounge's cream silk carpeting by my four-year-old twins, Maya and Lila. While the girls clung at each other, tears staining their hot cheeks, chocolate croissants were smashed into doughy heaps and raspberry scones spilled their sticky contents over the floor.

In a desperate effort to save my world, I had hired a babysitter, who stood hopelessly close by, holding onto her handbag. She was obviously out of her element, young, and nervous.

She stumbled, her eyes wide, "Mr. Blackwell, I just can't-"

I waved a tired hand at her, dismissing her. Kindly take the remainder of the day off. We will discuss tomorrow.

Her face lit up with relief as she nodded and ran away. In order to soothe the sharp edges of my irritation, I knelt next to the twins.

I tried to maintain a calm tone as I said, "Girls." "What's the deal here?"

With wild hair and an even wilder energy, Maya, the ringleader, sniffed and used her chocolate-smeared fingers to wipe her tear-stained face. She hiccupped and said, "Lila wanted the big scone, and I wanted it too!"

Lila, who is always more thoughtful but equally impassioned, continued, "I just wanted to share, Daddy!" while crying.

Their sincere looks caused my chest to constrict. I had dominated boardrooms, defeated rivals, and created an empire from nothing. Nevertheless, I found myself unable to address my girls' basic needs and miscommunications. My hands were sticky, but I sighed and gathered them both into an embrace. Let's tidy up, shall we?

With a nod, Maya and Lila's sniffles stopped. I was about to summon the cleaning crew when a cheery, upbeat voice broke the tension.

"It appears that a bakery exploded here."

As I turned, I gasped for air. Standing at the doorway with a kind grin on her lips was Zoe Harper. Her brown boots, slightly worn, and sundress, speckled with forget-me-nots, gave her a casual, friendly vibe. She had free curls of auburn hair and emerald eyes that glistened with a warmth I didn't know I needed in my life.

I got up and held out a hand, trying to summon the poise that had made me renowned on Wall Street. "Thank you for coming so quickly, Miss Harper."

Zoe took hold of my hand and held it gently but firmly. After saying, "Call me Zoe," she crouched down to my girls' eye level. "Maya and Lila must be you two. You seem to have had quite the journey.

Lila's eyes became bigger. Her voice was shaking with anticipation as she said, "Are you our new babysitter?"

Zoe winked conspiratorially at them. Better. My passion for experiences coincides with my work as a preschool teacher. Okay, so we'll enjoy ourselves, but no more scone explosions?

Maya laughed, forgetting the tears she had shed before, and Lila's countenance brightened. Instantaneous was the transition. Zoe was doing in a matter of seconds what I had been unable to complete during the day. Despite the sudden, unexplainable pain in my chest, I ignored it and watched Zoe quiet my storm with ease.

Taking the girls by the hand, she led them to the kitchen to clean up while narrating stories about dragons and kingdoms from fairy tales. I trailed following, watching in silence. Her presence was a comforting salve in a life that I had struggled to maintain after the divorce, one that was excruciatingly sterile and scrupulously controlled. Nevertheless, there was a careless quality to the way optimism started to infiltrate, unwanted but unavoidable.

The Zoe

Despite being very stunning, I was not intimidated by the Blackwell estate. Previously, I had entered marble palaces and tall penthouses, always carrying a bag of crafts and the understanding that children needed someone who had more than their parents' wealth. Marcus Blackwell, though? He was a very other story. He was a tall, dark-haired man with an angular jaw and emotionless eyes who carried his fortune like an impenetrable shield.

However, a few minutes ago, I saw a different side of him as I saw him go down on his knees to console his daughters: vulnerability.

We arrived in the kitchen, Maya and Lila clinging to me. When I muttered, "I'll need two brave princesses to help me find the magic sponge," they burst out laughing and scurried off to find it.

With his arms folded, Marcus watched me from the doorway with a look of incredulity and something I couldn't quite put my finger on. I made myself look him in the eye.

He responded, "Thank you for coming," with the tenseness of a man used to dominance still evident in his voice. "I am aware that the vetting process at the agency is typically longer, but-"

I softly interrupted him. "You needed assistance quickly. That is my purpose for being here.

He examined me as if attempting to solve an unfamiliar riddle. He said, "They like you," in a little gentler tone.

I shrugged. "I also enjoy them." My head cocked. Mr. Blackwell, how about you? Do you feel alright?

The question took him by surprise. His eyes twitched and he moved slightly, clearly uncomfortable in his own flesh, and I could see it. He was used to being in charge, in charge of all the questions, and in charge. Inquiring about his well-being seemed almost...rebellious to a guy like him.

"It's been a while since I was asked that," he eventually said.

I smiled at him, knowingly, but my heart squeaked at the weight of his speech. "All right, adjust to it. My presence in your life, even for a short time, is likely to be accompanied with intrusive inquiries.

The tiniest hint of a grin appeared on his lips, but he remained silent. Rather, he nodded and stood up straight. Correct. Well, I'll let you do it.

Under the precisely fitted lines of his suit, his wide shoulders were rigid as he turned to go. However, for a fraction of a second, I pondered what it would take to reveal the guy beneath the façade.

Maya pulled at my skirt as he left, gleefully waving the sponge. She said with a smile, "We found it?"

I smiled and knelt next to her. Let's get working, Princess Maya. Our kingdom must be saved.

I felt warm as I assisted the girls in cleaning the floor of the jam and chocolate as they smiled. I had an innate sense that entering Marcus Blackwell's life would be more significant and complex than I had ever anticipated.