Chapter 3 Three

“You are leaving? Right now?”

My adopted mother stood in the middle of the grand foyer, her hands planted firmly on her designer-clad hips. On the living room couch, the triplets were huddled together, laughing at something on their phones. They didn't even look up, completely treating my departure like it was a minor annoyance.

“Yes,” I said, my voice steady as I gripped the handle of my small, battered suitcase. It held every single thing I owned in the world, which honestly wasn't much. “I got a job, and I have already paid my college dormitory fee. I am moving out today.”

My adopted father didn't even lower his newspaper from his face. “Don't expect a single cent of help from us when you fail and come crying back.”

“I won't ask you for a single cent,” I said, keeping my chin high. “And I won't be coming back.”

Chloe finally looked up from her phone, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Ugh, whatever. Who is going to do our laundry and clean our bathrooms now?”

“Do it yourselves,” I said clearly.

Before their jaws could even drop, I turned around, pushed open the massive front doors, and walked out. The cool morning air hit my face, and for the first time in twenty years, I felt like I could actually breathe. I wasn't their shadow anymore.

As I walked down the long driveway toward the bus stop, I looked down at my digital student ID on my phone.

Princess Rodriguez.

They had never bothered to change my surname to Thompson when they adopted me. To them, I was always just a stranger they took in, an afterthought once the triplets arrived. But as I stared at the name Rodriguez, a surge of pride washed over me. It was my name. The name I came with from the orphanage. And I was going to make it stand for something huge on the fashion runways one day.

The next morning, I stood in front of a luxury penthouse building downtown. This was the exact address the agency had sent me. The building was breathtaking, a massive tower of glass and steel that pierced the sky.

I took the sleek, quiet elevator all the way up to the top floor, my heart racing a mile a minute. I clutched my clipboard to my chest, my mind wandering. I wondered what the baby would be like. A cute little toddler? A sweet, quiet little girl I could read bedtime stories to and help with finger-painting? For $3,000 a month, I was ready to be the best nanny in the city.

The elevator dinged. I stepped out onto the private floor, took a deep breath to calm my nerves, and knocked firmly on the heavy mahogany door.

The lock turned instantly. The door swung open.

My jaw practically hit the floor.

Standing in front of me was absolutely not a toddler. It was a massive, towering guy with incredibly broad shoulders, messy dark hair, and a face that looked like it had been carved out of solid, unyielding stone. He was wearing a grey hoodie that made him look even bigger, and he was glaring down at me like I was a totally annoying bug.

It was Adnan Satoff. Aadee!

The legendary college hockey captain. The most popular, feared, and talked-about guy on campus, famous for his brutal skills on the ice and his absolutely shitty, freezing-cold attitude.

“Who the hell are you?” Aadee growled, his voice deep, raspy, and thoroughly angry.

I stepped back an inch, my hands tightening on my clipboard. “I am the new babysitter.”

Aadee stared at me like I was speaking a completely foreign language. “The what?”

“The babysitter,” I repeated, trying to peek past his massive shoulders into the ultra-modern, luxury penthouse. “Where is the child?”

Aadee let out a harsh, dry laugh that didn't hold a single bit of humor. “No child lives here.”

“Wait, what?” I blinked, quickly checking the printout on my clipboard. “But the agency address explicitly says apartment 40B—”

“You have the wrong place,” he interrupted coldly. He gripped the edge of the heavy door, his knuckles turning white. “Go away.”

“Hey! Wait a minute!”

Before I could even finish my sentence, he slammed the door right in my face. The loud, booming thud echoed across the quiet hallway.

“Unbelievable!” I muttered, my blood instantly beginning to boil. I marched forward and pounded my fist against the wood. “Excuse me! The child I am supposed to babysit lives here! Check your facts, hockey boy!”

There was no answer from the other side. Just the definitive click of the deadbolt locking from the inside. He had completely locked me out in the hall.

Panic started to bubble up in my chest, threatening to choke out my anger. No, no, no. This could not be happening. I needed this job. I needed that $3,000 to keep my dorm room! If I lost this gig on day one, I would be homeless by the end of the week.

With shaking fingers, I pulled out my phone and dialed the strict woman from the interview agency.

“Hello?” She answered on the very first ring.

“Ma'am, it's Princess Rodriguez,” I said quickly, my voice tight with panic. “I am at the penthouse right now, but a giant guy just slammed the door in my face. He says there is no child here. Did someone give me the wrong apartment number?”

There was a long, heavy pause on the other end of the line. I could hear the woman sighing deeply.

“Oh, Princess. I am so sorry,” she said, her tone dropping all of its usual professional stiffness. “I should have warned you. The family forgot to mention that he didn't actually know they hired someone yet.”

“Didn't know what?” I asked, completely lost. “Where is the baby?”

“There is no baby, Princess. You are in the exact right place.”

Before I could even voice another question, the lock on the penthouse door clicked loudly again. The heavy mahogany door swung open for the second time.

Aadee stood there, holding a buzzing phone in his large hand. He looked completely miserable, his stone face twisting into fury as he glared down at the screen, then snapped his icy eyes directly onto mine.

“Are you serious right now?” he growled into his phone, clearly speaking to his parents. He slammed the phone shut, lowered his hand, and stepped fully into the doorway, looming over me.

“You,” he spat out.

I swallowed hard, looking at his angry face, then looking down at my phone, and finally putting the crazy pieces of the puzzle together. My jaw dropped.

He wasn't the older brother. He wasn't the uncle.

He was the child.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, clutching my clipboard against my chest like a shield. “You... you are the one I need to babysit.”