The Billionaire's Reluctant Nanny

Alessia

"I'll give the company back to your father. All you have to do is kneel and beg."

Julian's voice echoed throughout the auction room as if he wanted everyone to hear it. And they did.

"Apologize to me in front of all these people," he continued, "and I'll return every penny I took from your father's company. I'll settle all the debts. Everything." He bowed his head, savoring the moment. "Just one apology. That's all."

Alessia stared at him. Around her, the wealthiest people in the country held their breath, watching.

On the platform behind her, her father stood between two auction attendants, his gaze fixed on the floor. Enzo Romano, a man who had spent his entire life walking with his head held high, couldn't lift his eyes. Her mother sat in the front row, clutching an old photo album, the only thing she had salvaged before her home was foreclosed upon, silent tears streaming down her face.

But what had pushed her to the limit was Julian Mercer.

Her ex-husband.

He sat in the center of the front row, in the most prominent spot, like a king enjoying a show. And clinging to his arm, enveloped in a designer dress, was his lover. The woman smiled, whispering something in Julián's ear, and he laughed, a loud, satisfied sound that cut through the murmur of the crowd. They had come to witness the final, crushing defeat of the Romano family.

Alessia felt a roar in her ears, drowning out the auctioneer's voice. She walked down the aisle, her heels silent on the thick carpet, her gaze fixed on her mother. She had to reach her, offer her some support. She was only a few steps from the front row when Julián noticed her.

A slow, predatory smile spread across her face. She released her lover and stood up, her movements fluid and confident. She stepped into his path.

"Alessia," he said, his voice soft as poisoned honey. "My God. You look... good."

She stared at him, her face a perfectly expressionless mask. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

He chuckled, the sound devoid of warmth. "Still the same ice queen. I was just telling Marissa about how stubborn you are." He reached out, his fingers closing around a strand of her dark hair. He twirled it, a gesture that was once intimate but now just disgusted her. "Always have been. But," he leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that still carried in the sudden hush that had fallen around them, "I'm in a benevolent mood tonight. It's not every day a man gets to watch his ex crumble so pitifully."

A ripple of nervous laughter went through the crowd.

Alessia's blood ran cold.

"So, I'm going to make you an offer, cara," he continued, using the Italian endearment mocking her. He released her hair and stepped back, gesturing grandly to the room. "Right here, in front of everyone. A show of good faith." His eyes glittered with malice. "Kneel and apologize. Tell everyone how foolish you were to leave a man like me, how you regret your pride." He paused, letting the vile proposal hang in the air. "And I will personally put back every penny I withdraw from your father's company, the funds that... unfortunately... caused this little crash. I'll even pay off your loans. All of it. Gone. Your family's honor, restored. All for the price of a simple apology and a little humility."

The words hit her like physical blows. He had done it. It wasn't a market crash, a bad investment, or her father's failing health that had doomed them. It was him. Julian. In a calculated act of post-divorce revenge, he had withdrawn his investments, deliberately tanking Romano Industries out of pure, petty spite. He had orchestrated their ruin.

The roar in her ears returned, deafening this time. Fury clouded her senses and reasoning, With a strangled cry she lunged at him.

Her fist connected weakly with his chest, a pathetic attempt at a punch. He caught her wrists easily ,his face twisting in annoyance, and threw her to the ground. She landed hard on the polished floor, the

Alessia lay helplessly on the floor, the wine stinging her eyes, the laughter and whispers of the elite

endearment mocking her. He released her hair and stepped back, gesturing grandly to the room. "Right here, in front of everyone. A show of good faith." His eyes glittered with malice. "Kneel and apologize. Tell everyone how foolish you were to leave a man like me, how you regret your pride." He paused, letting the vile proposal hang in the air. "And I will personally put back every penny I withdraw from your father's company, the funds that... unfortunately... caused this little crash. I'll even pay off your loans. All of it. Gone. Your family's honor, restored. All for the price of a simple apology and a little humility."

The words hit her like physical blows. He had done it. It wasn't a market crash, a bad investment, or her father's failing health that had doomed them. It was him. Julian. In a calculated act of post-divorce revenge, he had withdrawn his investments, deliberately tanking Romano Industries out of pure, petty spite. He had orchestrated their ruin.

The roar in her ears returned, deafening this time. Fury clouded her senses and reasoning, With a strangled cry she lunged at him.

Her fist connected weakly with his chest, a pathetic attempt at a punch. He caught her wrists easily ,his face twisting in annoyance, and threw her to the ground. She landed hard on the polished floor, the impact bruising her bum and scraping the palm of her hand.

A gasp went through the crowd, followed by a titter of nervous excitement. Before she could even think of getting up, a shadow fell over her. A cold liquid splashed across her face and chest. The sharp, fruity scent of red wine filled her nostrils. It dripped from her chin, staining the cream-colored blouse she'd worn to try and look respectable.

"Honestly," the mistress, Marissa, cooed, holding the now-empty crystal glass. "This woman simply doesn't know her place. Julian, darling, you're far too kind. You see?" she announced to the onlookers, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. "Mr. Mercer is generously offering her a way out of the gutters, and she's too proud to take it. Some people just want to wallow in their misery."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the audience. "He's being more than fair," a portly man in a three-piece suit whispered loudly to his companion. "The Romano girl was always too headstrong for her own good."

"A little humility never hurt anyone," a woman with diamond chandelier earrings sniffed.

Alessia lay helplessly on the floor, the wine stinging her eyes, the laughter and whispers of the elite washing over her. The knots in her stomach multiplied. Her mother was frozen in her chair, tears streaming silently down her face, too horrified to move. Her father, on the stage, looked as if he might collapse. Julian stood over her, waiting, expecting her to grovel.

The choice was a simple one, laid bare for all to see. Grovel, and save her family. Or stay on her knees, a symbol of their destroyed pride, and lose everything.

Looking at her parents' distraught faces, she took a shaky breath. She would do it. She would crawl through hell for them.

Just as she was about to bow her head, the heavy doors of the auction hall slammed open.

"I believe," he said calmly, "this auction is over."

Alessia's Pov

The room froze.

All eyes shifted to the man who had just walked in. He was tall, with broad shoulders, dressed in a dark suit. Calm. Every movement measured and deliberate.

He didn't rush. He didn't flinch. He simply moved toward the center of the hall, past rows of staring guests, until he stopped near the stage.

Julian Mercer's frown deepened. "Excuse me," he said, voice tight. "This is a private auction. You have no business here unless you have an invitation."

"I don't need an invitation," he said nonchalantly, not even bothering to look back at Julian.

"I said," he repeated to the auctioneer, his voice smooth like velvet, "this auction is over."

The auctioneer blinked. "Sir, I'm afraid that's not possible. We are in the middle of-"

"Then make it possible. I've settled the debts of Romano Industries."

A murmur spread through the hall.

"The outstanding loans have been paid," he continued calmly. "Every creditor has been compensated. The assets currently being auctioned will be returned to the Romano family."

Gasps broke through the crowd.

"And the company," he finished, "now belongs to me."

Silence.

Julian stared at him for a moment before letting out a laugh, breaking the silence.

It was loud and mocking, meant to humiliate.

"You expect us to believe that?" he scoffed. "Some random man walks in and suddenly claims he bought Romano Industries?"

He gestured lazily toward me, still laying helplessly on the floor.

"Let me guess. You're here to play hero for my ex-wife, her knight in shining armor." He sneered.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, fury overriding my embarrassment and helplessness.

I let out a loud scoff as I got off the floor. The attention of the room rediverted to me instantly, eager to hear what I had to say.

"You act like you have some special place here when you don't."

"Oh, now your prince charming is here you have a backbone," Julian smirked at me.

He enjoyed toying with me in front of all these people.

Marissa walked up to me with a look of fake sympathy. Her red lips formed a pout as she grabbed my arm lightly, her nails digging into my skin drawing a faint line of blood as I winced.

"Alessia, Julian still cares about you even after everything you did," she said loud enough for everyone to hear. "You don't need to hire an actor just to save face. Just apologize and he'll forgive you."

"Let go of me," I said harshly, pushing her away. She staggered back before Julian caught her in his arms.

The mystery man simply lifted an eyebrow, his expression unreadable.

Julian glared at me. "Honestly, this is pathetic. Do you even know what kind of money it takes to-"

The doors behind them burst open again, interrupting him a second time.

A young woman hurried inside, heels clicking quickly across the floor as she made her way toward him, clutching a tablet and a folder thick with documents.

"Sir," she said, slightly breathless, "the transfers are complete. All funds have been wired, and the acquisition contracts have been finalized."

The room held its breath.

Julian scoffed again. "Oh please. Do you really expect anyone here to take this seriously?"

The woman turned slowly toward him.

"And who are you?" she asked impatiently.

He rolled his eyes as he adjusted his suit jacket. "Julian Mercer," he said with pride.

Her expression was unimpressed.

Then she gave a small, incredulous laugh.

"Mr. Mercer," she said, her voice carrying easily across the silent hall, "if you're going to insult someone, you should at least know who you're talking to."

Julian's smirk faltered.

She gestured casually toward the man beside her.

"This is Adrian Virelli."

The whispers died instantly.

Even the air seemed to grow heavier.

Julian's face drained of color.

Because everyone in that room knew exactly who Adrian Virelli was.

One of the most powerful men in the country.

A man whose companies swallowed corporations twice the size of Romano Industries before breakfast.

Julian had been after a partnership with them for years but had been rejected countless times.

Julian swallowed hard.

"Mr. Virelli," he said quickly, his tone shifting from arrogance to forced politeness in the span of a second. "I... didn't realize it was you. If there's been some kind of misunderstanding-"

Adrian didn't listen.

His attention had already shifted to me, shivering in the strapless white gown Marissa had doused in wine. My palm was raw from scraping the floor. My dignity scattered across the room for everyone to stare at.

For a moment, he simply looked at me, I shuddered under his gaze.

Then he removed his suit jacket.

The movement was smooth and effortless.

He stepped closer and draped it over my shoulders, the dark fabric hiding the stains and the humiliation.

A wave of whispers surged through the guests.

"Why is Adrian Virelli helping her?"

"Does he know the Romano family?"

"Are they dating?"

Julian clenched his jaw hard.

I barely heard them.

My mind was still struggling to process what had just happened as I slowly turned my head toward the stage.

My father was staring at Adrian.

Not with shock, but something else I couldn't quite put my finger on.

He met my gaze.

Then he gave a small nod toward the direction Adrian had already started walking.

A silent instruction but loud and clear.

Follow him.

Adrian was halfway to the exit.

I pushed myself to my feet, clutching the jacket around me as I hurried after him, the murmurs of the elite trailing behind me like ghosts.

I caught up to him in the corridor outside.

"Wait."

He stopped.

Slowly, he turned to face me.

Up close, his expression was calm and controlled.

Impossible to read.

I swallowed.

"You just saved my family," I said, my voice shaky but sincere. "Our company... our home... everything. I-"

"You don't need to thank me."

Relief flickered across my face.

It vanished just as quickly.

Adrian slipped his hands into his pockets, his gaze steady as he finished the sentence.

"I never do anything for free."

Alessia's POV

His eyes bore into mine gauging my reaction.

I shrunk under his gaze, feeling like I had been stripped to my very being. Laid bare for him to see.

What did he see when he looked at me like that? A desperate woman whose family had nearly lost everything tonight? A charity case? Something else entirely?

"Mr Virelli I appreciate your help, I truly do." I gulped, "I don't know what impression you have of me but my body is not for sale."

He gave me a once over and chuckled. My cheeks tinged red I looked away not wanting him to see.

"Ms. Romano I'm afraid you've misunderstood my intentions." Amusement in his tone.

"Then... What do you want out." I managed to get out before my voice betrayed me.

"I want you to work for me." He said casually as he tucked his hands into the pocket of his slacks.

I blinked. Then blinked again.

Of all the things I'd expected him to say; a proposition, a demand, even a clarification that I'd misunderstood his intentions entirely,this was not on the list.

Work for him.

Adrian Virelli. The man whose face appeared on the covers of business magazines. The man who could buy those magazines if he wanted to. The man who had just spent nearly a billion dollars on a woman he'd never met.

My eyebrows drew together so tightly I could feel the tension ache between them. This made no sense. None.

I knew who Adrian Virelli was. Everyone did. He didn't need anything from someone like me. He had entire floors of assistants. He had people who probably fought each other for the chance to work for him. He had-

I stopped myself mid-thought and really looked at him. At the way he stood there so casually, hands in his pockets, as if he'd just offered me a cup of coffee instead of a completely inexplicable job.

"What," I started, then had to pause and steady my voice. "What could I possibly have to offer someone like you?"

"Mr Virelli I don't think I have any special qualifications that would make you help me out."

"You'll work for me for three years." He said completely ignoring my previous statement. "You will work as a nanny taking care of my daughter, Ava."

Before I could respond, a sharp laugh interrupted our conversation. Marissa stepped out of the shadows

I turned to face her and the embarrassment that had me shrinking moments ago evaporated completely. In its place white-hot rage that made my vision sharpen. Every detail of her mocking smile burned itself into my brain. The way her perfectly tinted lips curled. The smug tilt of her chin. The dismissive flick of her wrist as she gestured toward me like I was something unpleasant she'd scraped off her shoe.

"Mr Virelli you can afford to hire the best team of nannies in the country, in the world even." She cast a mocking glance at me. "Why would you want a woman that couldn't even give her husband a child."

Adrian's eyes darkened as he looked at Marissa.

"And you are?"

"Marissa Gonzalez." She answered as she stretched out her hand for a handshake, fluttering her eyelashes flirtatiously.

Adrian looked at her outstretched hand with disdain.Marissa's hand hung in the air between them. One second passed. Two. I watched the confidence drain from her face in slow motion, watched her perfectly manicured fingers begin to curl back toward her palm.

"Miss Gonzalez what makes you think you can just walk into a conversation and give your unsolicited advice."

"I, I just thought you should know what type of woman you're dealing with." she sputtered surprised at his hostility.

"You should really do less thinking, it doesn't suit you." He threw the insult so casually I almost missed it. I choked back a laugh

Marissa's hand dropped. She actually fumbled, reaching for something; a comeback, a flirtatious remark, some way to salvage this but coming up empty. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. Like a fish out of water.

"I-I just thought-" She laughed, but it came out too high pitched. Her embarrassment evident. "I thought you should know what type of woman you're dealing with. She's not-I mean, everyone knows that she-"

"We're not friends, what gives you the right to advise me?" He continued not letting up.

"I'm sorry." She squeaked.

"Leave." He ordered, voice low.

She cast me one more hateful glance and scurried off.

"Thank you." I said quietly.

I stood there, frozen, waiting for the inevitable. In my experience, when a woman like Marissa turned her venom on someone, people found somewhere else to look. They studied their shoes. They checked their phones. They suddenly remembered urgent business elsewhere.

That's what had happened with my husband's family. When Marissa first started whispering her poison, when she first began planting seeds of doubt about my ability to give them an heir, no one corrected her. Not his mother, who wanted grandchildren. Not his sisters, who'd always viewed me as an outsider. And eventually, not even my husband.

But Adrian Virelli didn't look away. He didn't shift uncomfortably. He didn't pretend not to hear.

He defended me.

I felt the walls I had built so high over the years begin to crack. I looked away, afraid he might be able to see my undoing in my eyes.

"You don't need to thank me, I just dislike people who don't know their place."

"But she's right, I've never had a child of my own. I don't think I'm the right fit to take care of your daughter." I sighed.

"If I say you are then you are."

I opened my mouth ready to argue again but he lifted his hand, cutting me off.

"That's the only way for you to pay me back or you give me the money in full this night."

Three years.

The words echoed in my head. Three years of my life, handed over to a stranger. Three years of living under his roof, caring for his child, existing at his convenience.

I should have asked questions. What would the arrangement look like? Would I live with them? Would I have days off? What about my parents,would I still be able to visit them? What if his daughter hated me? What if I was terrible at this?

But even as the questions surfaced, I already knew the answers didn't matter.

I didn't have almost a billion dollars. Heck, I didn't have almost a million dollars. I had a savings account with maybe four thousand dollars in it with no job. My parents had nothing, tonight had proven that. They'd been one bad auction away from losing everything.

Adrian Virelli had saved them. He'd saved me from watching my family crumble.

This was the price.

I looked at him. Really looked, past the tailored suit, the impossible confidence and the face that belonged on magazine covers. I looked at the man who had just completely destroyed Marissa without even raising his voice. The man who had spent a fortune on a stranger and then offered her a way out that didn't involve his bed.

Three years was a small price to pay, I told myself.

"I accept your terms, Mr. Virelli."