She waited, her arms still wrapped around herself.
"You will not like it." I gripped the edge of the desk. "I certainly don't. But my preferences stopped mattering the moment Daisy spoke."
A pause. She deserved to know what was coming.
"I'm going to hire you. Not as a cleaner. As Daisy's full-time assistant nanny."
I saw the conflict on her face. She looked relieved for Daisy, but horrified at the prospect of being bound to me.
"The terms." I pulled out my phone, opened a new note. Made it official. Professional. "Five days a week. Monday through Friday. Eight a.m. to six p.m."
She nodded once.
"Four thousand dollars a week. Deposited directly to your account. You quit your other jobs. This is your sole employment."
Her eyes widened slightly. That was probably more than she made in a month across all three jobs, but she said nothing.
"Your focus is Daisy. Her development, her comfort, her routine. You are my employee. Nothing more." I looked up from the phone. "We are not friends. We are not allies. We are not even acquaintances working toward a common goal. We are employer and employee. Do you understand?"
"You don't trust me," she stated quietly.
"No."
"You still blame me."
"Yes."
"Then how?—"
"Because she needs you!" The words burst out, sharper than I intended. I reined it in, forcing calm. "This isn't about forgiveness, Anna. It's not abouttrust. It's about a five-year-old girl who means the world to me."
I leaned forward, planting my hands on the desk. "You made a promise to her. A promise about tea parties and funny voices. Are you going to break that promise? To a child who has already lost everything?"
It was manipulation, low and calculated. I used her obvious affection for Daisy as a lever. I saw it land, saw the flicker of pain in her warm brown eyes.
A long pause. I watched her process it—the money, the terms, the surveillance, the daily proximity to the man who'd orchestrated her life for nine months. I watched her weigh her fear of me against her love for Daisy.
"I accept."
Two words. As binding as a contract. As final as a prison sentence.
"For Daisy," she added softly. "Only for Daisy."
"Only for Daisy," I confirmed. "Be here tomorrow at eight. Mrs. Rosa will handle the household. You handle Daisy."
She turned to go, heading again for the service entrance. My voice stopped her.
"One more thing." She stopped, her hand on the doorknob, the same door, the same position as when Daisy had run to her. "You will not discuss this arrangement with anyone. Not friends, not family, not support groups. As far as anyone knows, you're a nanny who started today. No history. No connection to Elena. Do you understand?"
Something shifted in her expression. "You're protecting yourself."
"I'm protecting Daisy. The last thing she needs is media attention about the miracle nanny who helped the tragic widower's daughter speak again." I held her gaze. "And yes. I'm protecting myself. If Carter finds out you're here, working for me..."
I didn't finish. We both knew what Carter might do with that information.
For the first time since the confrontation in the office, a spark of her earlier fire returned. She turned fully to face me, her chin lifting a fraction.
"I would never hurt her." Her voice was clear, firm. "She is the best thing that has happened to me in years. You can watch me all you want, Mr. Spencer. Track my routes, read my texts, catalogue my groceries." She met my eyes. "You won't find anything. Because there's nothing to find. There never was."
