“I will have someone take you home. Pack what you need. You return tonight.”
Just like that.
Decision made.
Life changed.
He walks away without another word, leaving behind a wake of tension and something far more dangerous.
And as I stand there, heart racing and mind spinning, one thing becomes painfully clear.
I just stepped into something that is going to change everything.
CHAPTER 3
AMALIE
Iwake up the next morning to total and complete softness.
The mattress practically sighs around me. Between it and the luxury bedding, it’s like I’m waking up to a great, big hug.
For a second, I forget everything—Chicago winter, Mom’s bills, Kyle’s work. Then I spot the gorgeous, carved wood ceiling beam above me and remember.
Right. I live in a billionaire’s mansion now. I’m sleeping right across the damn hall from him.
I push the blankets aside and sit up slowly, blinking at the room around me. The space is cozy. Unexpectedly so. The floors are pale wood with a large, plush rug. The room has a small bookshelf, and the windows are draped in muted blue curtains. There’s even a little seating nook at the bay window, complete with soft cushions and a throw blanket.
Outside, snow covers the back stretch of the estate, which looks to span several acres. The snow is untouched, pristine. It’s one of those moments where winter actually looks pretty, when you can forget about Chicago’s famous sub-zero wind chill.
I’m still admiring the view when the events of yesterday come crashing back: the interview, the tension, the way Roman’s eyes watched my lips when I spoke. The way I felt when he told me I’d be living here with him.
The rest of the day had been a blur. Roman’s men drove me to my place in Northalsted, formerly known as Boystown. They waited while I packed half my clothes and my personal effects into boxes, along with some more art supplies, then brought me back to the mansion. By the time one of them showed me to my room, I was so worn out I’d barely managed to slip out of my clothes and under the covers before passing out.
But now, in the quiet morning light, it finally hits just how surreal my life has become. I’m living in the Barinov mansion. Hopelessly attracted to my boss. Employed as a nanny to his son.
I shake my head, pushing it out of my mind for the moment. A check of my phone reveals it’s a little past six-thirty a.m. Despite the daze of last night, I do remember one of the men telling me Sasha’s alarm was for seven, which leaves me a little time for a quick shower.
The en-suite bathroom is absurd. The shower has a rainfall head, jets on the wall, and a little bench. I step in, letting the hot water work the tension out of my muscles.
I dress in a cream linen blouse and black slacks, pulling my hair back into a bun at the nape of my neck. I take a breath, open the bedroom door, and nearly scream from surprise.
Directly across the hall, sitting in a straight-backed chair with a newspaper, is Andrei. He turns a page, clearly unbothered by my little shriek.
“Good morning,” he says without looking up.
“Oh my God,” I say, hand on my chest. “Have you been sitting there all night?”
“I arrived at six. As per my orders.”
I take a slow, deep breath, my heart rate starting to return to normal. “You don’t have to babysit me. I’m not going to wander off and start pilfering the silver or anything.”
He lowers the paper just enough for me to see his ice-blue eyes. “I’m not babysitting. I’m watching. Roman’s orders.”
“That’s… worse, actually.”
He ignores my comment. “Mr. Barinov is out on business. He’ll be back later. He wanted me to be here when you woke up in case you had any questions. Do you?”
“Yeah, one. Are you going to be here waiting for me every morning? Or is this just a special occasion?”
