Chapter 5 Emery's POV

"What are you doing with my kids?" His voice was low but firm, a kind of steel wrapped in authority.

I blinked, caught off guard. "Uh... helping? They looked like they were about to lose it, so I stepped in. Somebody's gotta be the hero around here."

Olive, who was clutching my shirt like I was her lifeline, suddenly looked up and grinned, wiping away her tears. "She's nice! She called me a warrior princess, Daddy!"

Oliver, her twin, tried to pipe up but got his words all jumbled. "And... collect... collectible?" He scrunched his little nose in concentration.

I laughed softly, wiping Olive's tears with the back of my hand. "That's a pretty impressive vocabulary, I gotta say."

The man's stare softened for a moment, like he was amused despite himself. Then his eyes locked onto me with sudden sharpness. "Wait... it's you."

I froze. That tone it was familiar, and not in a good way.

"The one who spilled the drink on me at the gala."

Oh, great. Just what I needed. The guy who I'd drenched in some awful cocktail, probably ruining his designer suit forever.

"Yeah... that was definitely not my proudest moment," I said, scratching the back of my neck, cheeks heating up. "If it helps, I'm really good at other things."

"Let me guess," he said flatly, crossing his arms. "You want your job back."

I gave him a mock glare. "Wow, you're so smart."

He gave me the kind of look that said, Obviously.

"Well, yeah," I said, stepping closer, "I want my job back. I'm not proud of how I showed up at that gala, but I need that job like it's oxygen. Life's been a mess lately, and that job? It's literally my lifeline. So if you wanna kick me out, just say so. But if you want to see some real dedication, I'm your girl."

Olive tugged on my sleeve. "Daddy, she's nice. And she calls me a warrior princess."

Oliver nodded, giving me the cutest shy smile. "She's cute too."

I tried to hide the grin that threatened to take over my face. These kids had my heart already.

Just as I was about to say something else, two burly security guards rounded the corner. They had that "we're here to escort you out" look, which made my stomach drop.

"Sir," one of them said quietly, "we need to ask this lady to leave."

But before they could move toward me, the man in the suit held up a hand, his voice calm but commanding. "No. Let it be."

The security guards exchanged glances but nodded and stepped back like their lives depended on it.

I blinked, stunned, who was those guy, really?

He finally spoke again, his cold eyes boring into me. "Alright... waiting for your name."

"Emery," I said, standing a little taller despite the nerves.

"Emery," he repeated slowly, as if testing how it felt on his tongue. "You want a job."

"Yes. My life depends on it."

He narrowed his eyes and then smirked, almost amused. "Have you ever been a nanny before?"

"Not professionally," I admitted, "but I'm great with kids. I spend a lot of time at the orphanage. Plus, surviving my own chaotic life has made me ready for anything, even a couple of tiny hurricanes like Olive and Oliver."

He studied me for a long moment, as if trying to decide if I was worth the gamble. Then, with a shrug, he said, "We'll see if you can keep up."

I almost wanted to do a little victory dance right there in the parking garage. Because this? This was my shot. And I was going to grab it with everything I had.