Page 21 of Knot The Nanny We Planned

I gather Lily, change her diaper, she fights me on it, tiny legs kicking, and I have to sing her a song to distract her, and dress her in overalls and tiny sneakers. I find a jacket for myself in my duffel bag, a worn denim thing that's seen better days, and we head out.

The penthouse has a private elevator that opens directly into the building's underground parking garage. There's a car seat installed in the back of a black SUV, and Deklan, without looking up from his laptop, tosses me the keys.

"Eastwood Park," he says. "Twenty minutes. Don't take the highway."

And we're off.

Eastwood Park is beautiful.

It's the kind of park that exists only in wealthy neighborhoods, manicured lawns, wrought-iron benches, a fountain that sparkles in the late-morning sun. The playground is empty except for a few nannies with their charges, and Lily makes a beeline for the sandbox with the single-minded determination of a tiny general.

I sit on a bench nearby and watch her dig, my body still humming with residual heat. The fresh air helps, pine smoke and cedar fading, replaced by grass and sunshine and the distant smell of the fountain. For the first time since I arrived, I can breathe.

This is doable, I tell myself. This job. This situation. I can be professional. I can care for Lily. I can ignore the way my body responds to three men who smell like everything I've ever wanted.

I can.

A shadow falls over me. "You must be the new girl."

I look up.

The woman standing in front of me is everything I'm not. Tall, nearly five-ten, in heeled boots that add another three inches. Blonde hair cascading in perfect waves over her shoulders. A designer dress that probably costs more than my mother's car. Her scent hits me immediately, sandalwood and something sharp, almost metallic. An omega. A polished, expensive, terrifyingly beautiful omega.

And she's looking at me like I'm a stain on her favorite blouse.

"I'm sorry?" I say. "Do I know you?"

"No." She smiles. It doesn't reach her eyes. "But I know you. Willow, right? The new nanny." She lowers herself onto the bench beside me, crossing her legs with practiced elegance. "I'm Serena. Perhaps you've heard of me?"

The name lands like a stone in my stomach. I haven't heard of her, not specifically, but I know what she is. The ex. The omega they shared before. The one who was adequate.

"I haven't," I say, keeping my voice even. "Should I have?"

Serena laughs. It's a lovely sound, light and musical, and completely devoid of warmth. "Probably not. They don't like to talk about me. Bad memories, I suppose." She tilts her head, studying me with the detached interest of a collector examining a new acquisition. "You're younger than I expected. And..." Her eyes travel down my body, thrift-store jacket, worn jeans, scuffed sneakers, and her smile sharpens. "Less polished."

"I didn't realize polish was a job requirement."

"It's not." She leans back, draping her arm over the back of the bench. "But then, you're not really here for the job, are you? You're here because the agency matched you. Scent-matched, I mean."

My blood goes cold. "How do you know that?"

"Because I still have friends at the agency." She examines her nails, perfect, French-tipped, probably maintained by a professional. "They told me. A triple match. All three men. Do you know how rare that is?"

"Yes."

"Do you know how dangerous it is?" Her eyes snap to mine, and the faux warmth vanishes. What's underneath is ice. "I was matched with them too, you know. Not a triple match, just JD. But it was enough. Enough to bring me into their orbit, into their bed, into their lives."

I don't want to hear this. I don't want to sit here and listen to the woman they had before me describe what it was like to be theirs. But I can't move. My body is locked in place, my omega instincts screaming threat while my brain screams run.

"They shared me," Serena continues, and her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. "All three of them. It was supposed to be casual, biological release, nothing more. But I thought..." She pauses, and for a fraction of a second, genuine pain flickers across her perfect face. "I thought it was real. The match. The connection. The way JD looked at me, the way Knox touched me, the way Deklan let his guard down."

"What happened?"

Her jaw tightens. "I wanted more. They didn't. The match faded, apparently, single matches do that sometimes. The biological pull weakens, and suddenly you're just... a body. A warm body they used to scratch an itch." Her smile turns bitter. "They didn't even knot me. Not once. The match wasn't strong enough to trigger a real knot. So I was just... a placeholder. Someone to warm their bed until the real thing came along."

The word placeholder lands in my chest like a knife.

"And now you're here," Serena says, turning to face me fully. Her sandalwood scent is sharp, aggressive, an omega marking territory. "The real thing. The triple match. The one who's supposed to be different."