Chapter 3 Officially a Nanny.

I arrived at the address earlier than I'd planned, standing outside the iron gates of what looked more like a mansion than a family home. The place was tucked away in one of the most expensive neighborhoods in the city, the kind you only see in magazines or from a car window. I was surprised to see a building like this in this part of U.S. My stomach fluttered with nerves as I stared up at the massive stone facade, feeling like I'd stepped into another world. I wasn't even sure how I got here.

Taking a deep breath, I pressed the intercom button, my hands slightly trembling. A voice crackled through, and I quickly introduced myself, "Hi, I'm Nina Clarke. I'm here for the nanny interview?"

A pause, then the gate slowly swung open. I walked up the long driveway, taking in the immaculate grounds. There were trimmed hedges, a sprawling garden to one side, and what I was pretty sure was a pool house in the distance. As I approached the front door, my heart raced. This was already feeling out of my league, but I wasn't about to turn back now.

Inside, the house was even more impressive-grand, yet strangely warm. The floors were polished wood, and the soft scent of lavender drifted through the air. A woman, the housekeeper I assumed, greeted me and directed me to a large sitting room.

That's when I saw them-the other applicants.

There had to be at least a dozen women already there, all of them well-dressed and professional-looking, each one more intimidating than the last. Some were talking quietly among themselves, others flipping through portfolios, resumes in perfectly bound folders. I felt a pit of insecurity form in my stomach. They all looked like they belonged here. Meanwhile, I was clutching my cheap black tote bag, wondering if I should've worn something other than my basic blazer and flats.

I took a seat near the back, trying to calm my nerves. My fingers twisted in my lap, and I glanced around, wondering how many more people would show up. I hadn't expected this level of competition. The pay was outrageous, but seeing all these polished, experienced women made me question what I was even doing here.

Before I could sink too far into my self-doubt, the door at the far end of the room opened. A tall man stepped in, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room without him even having to say a word. He was sharp-featured, with jet dark hair brushed back, and an air of quiet intensity about him. I recognized him immediately from the photos Louise had shown me-Mr. Volkov.

Miss Clarke," he said, his voice icy and clipped. "You're... late."

There it was. No pretense, no soft introduction. Just straight to the point, and it stung. I felt a rush of embarrassment creep up my neck.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Volkov," I stammered. "The traffic was-"

"I'm not particularly interested in excuses," he interrupted, his tone dripping with impatience. "Punctuality is a basic expectation, especially when applying for a position in my household."

I winced at his words, feeling smaller by the second.

He raised an eyebrow, his cold gaze fixed on me. "You realize, Miss Clarke, that time management is essential for someone responsible for a child, yes? It's not exactly something I can overlook."

I swallowed, trying to recover. "I understand, and again, I apologize. It won't happen again."

He let out a soft, disbelieving scoff. "We'll see about that." His eyes narrowed just slightly as if he was weighing whether he should even bother with the interview at all. "Though I'm not sure what we're wasting our time on."

Behind him, a small girl with soft brown curls clung to his hand. She couldn't have been more than three years old. Her eyes, big and bright, scanned the room with a mix of curiosity and shyness. She was dressed in a tiny sweater and jeans, looking adorable but a bit uncertain, as if sensing the weight of all these strangers in her home.

Mr. Volkov's gaze swept across the room, lingering on each of us-his eyes, grey with flashes of gold, before he finally spoke. His voice was low and measured, with a slight accent I couldn't quite place. "Thank you all for coming today. My daughter, Anastatia, is three, and we are looking for someone who will not only care for her but become a part of her daily life. This is more than a job-it is a responsibility."

His words hung in the air, the seriousness of them settling over the room. He knelt down beside Anastasia and spoke softly to her, seemingly encouraging her to not feel shy. She peeked around his leg.

I smiled, my heart melting a little at her shyness. Mr. Volkov stood again, giving us each a firm look. "My assistant will call you in as we're ready and we'll interview you all as we get to you and who's fit for the job.

The first few applicants were called in one by one, disappearing behind the heavy wooden doors while the rest of us waited. I could hear faint noises which made me feel more tensed.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, my name was called. I stood up, smoothing my blouse, and followed the assistant through the hall. My heart pounded in my chest as we approached the same heavy wooden door. This was it.

The room I was led into was a bright, sun-filled space, surprisingly cozy given the grandeur of the house. Mr. Volkov sat at a large desk, but what caught my eye immediately was his daughter , sitting on a small chair beside him, her legs swinging under the table. She looked up as I entered, her wide eyes meeting mine again.

"Nina Clarke, correct?" Mr. Volkov asked, his voice calm but direct.

"Yes," I said, trying to keep my tone steady. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Volkov."

He nodded slightly. "Please, have a seat." He gestured to the chair opposite him.

I sat down, my nerves still buzzing, but I forced myself to stay calm. Anna, on the other hand, seemed more interested in the crayons scattered in front of her than in me. Still, every now and then, she glanced at me, as if sizing me up.

"We've had many applicants today," Mr. Volkov began, leaning back slightly in his chair. "All of them with experience, degrees, or long resumes," my heart pounds in my chest as i hear those few words, "But as I mentioned earlier, what matters most is my daughter's connection with her caregiver."

I nodded, unsure of what to say, but he wasn't looking for a response. He glanced at Anastacia, then back at me. "Why do you believe you'd be a good fit for this position, Miss Clarke?"

I hesitated for only a second before answering, trying to be as genuine as I could. "I'll use my mum as an example. I'm taking good care of her. After my dad's irresponsible departure, I've had to take care of her and if i can take care if a grown adult, I'm sure I can handle a child. Besides, i've babysitted a children in time past in informal settings but i feel your daughter is different-we would be able to relate." I finish taking a deep breath.

Anastacia looked up at me then, as if she were listening to every word. I gave her another small smile. She shyly picked up a crayon and began drawing again, but she didn't seem as distant as before.

Mr. Volkov studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Hm. I can't help but think of the first impression you gave earlier-your tardiness but I agree." He leaned forward slightly, his gaze intent. "My daughter has had a difficult time adjusting to new people. She's... selective. But she seems comfortable with you."

I blinked in surprise. Comfortable? She wasn't exactly chatty, but I'd take that as a good sign. Before I could say anything, she tugged on her father's sleeve and whispered something. He raised an eyebrow at her, then turned back to me.

"She would like to show you something," he said, his tone softening as he spoke about his daughter.

She stood up, clutching a piece of paper in her tiny hands. She came around the desk, slowly making her way toward me, and handed me the paper. It was a drawing-her version of a family, with a tall figure I assumed was her dad, a smaller figure that had to be her, and then another figure, a little more stick-like.

"That's you," She said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I stared at the drawing, something warm spreading in my chest. I looked up at her and smiled, genuinely touched. "Thank you, Anna. It's beautiful."

She grinned, then scurried back to her chair.

I wasn't sure what that meant for my chances, but I could feel a shift in the room. Mr. Volkov gave me a long, measured look before speaking again. "Miss Clarke, we will be in touch shortly, but I appreciate your time. Anastacia seems to have taken a liking to you."

I stood, heart racing. "Thank you so much for the opportunity."

I left the room, feeling lighter than I had all day. The other applicants were still there, but I barely noticed them as I left the house, a strange mix of hope and disbelief swirling in my mind.

Two days later, I got the call.

I stared at my phone in shock as the words sank in: You got the job.