TRAPPED IN THE BILLONIARE'S WORLD

"Do you know what you’re walking into?"

The sharpness of the woman's voice sliced like a razor through the café's low hum.

I paused, gripping my coffee cup handle with clenched sts. Miranda Henshaw, the recruiter who had

contacted me yesterday with an offer of a position that seemed too good to be true, was seated across

from me. Her keen gray eyes were staring at me with such intensity that it made my stomach turn, and

her blond hair was twisted back in a tight bun.

"I—" I cleared my throat. "It's a nanny position, right?"

With an inscrutable face, Miranda reclined on her chair. "For Damian Knight."

That name alone was significant; it was a name that was mingled in groups that I never belonged to.

The cutthroat businessman, the millionaire tech tycoon, and the guy whose face never smiled in

pictures was Damian Knight. He seldom appeared in public, controlled industry like a chessboard, and

owned half the city.

I was now expected to work for him.

I wanted to chuckle at the ridiculousness of it. I was Ivanka Wells, a 24-year-old suering woman with

precisely twelve dollars in my bank account, past-due rent, and no family to support her. I wasn't the

kind to enter the world of a millionaire.

I replied, "I heard he was looking for a nanny," with caution.

Miranda nodded slowly and knowingly at me. "Not only a babysitter. A weaver of miracles.

I scowled. "What do you mean?"

She let out a breath, sipped her cappuccino, and then leaned forward. "Ariana, his daughter, has

outshopped all of the nannies before you. They might linger for days or weeks. Knight, too? Failure is

not tolerated by him.

I took a swallow. "So why me?"

After giving me a thorough examination, Miranda pushed a clean white envelope over the table.

"Because he handpicked you."

My heart pounded. "What?"

Knight has no faith in anybody. However, he picked you for whatever reason. He wants you at the

estate tomorrow morning, but I'm not sure how or why.

I gazed at the envelope with my name written across the top in the big, tasteful script. I grabbed for it, my

fingers tingling as the thick paper felt cold to the touch.

"Read it," Miranda murmured.

I took out the nicely folded letter from the envelope after carefully opening it.

"Miss Wells,

At exactly eight in the morning, you will reach the Knight Estate. There is no negotiating punctuality.

Every instruction will be followed by you. There are no exceptions. No errors. A vehicle will be waiting

outside your at at 7:30 AM if you agree. Don't be late.

Knight, Damian.

With a slow sigh, my heart pounded against my ribs. No niceties, no warmth—just icy, exact orders.

With an inscrutable look, Miranda observed me. "Still think it’s just a nanny job?"

I stared at the letter with my lips pushed together. Whatever this was, my thinking begged me to go, to

ee in the other direction.

Then I remembered that my refrigerator was empty. The notice of eviction was attached to my door. I

felt the pressure of survival every single day.

Fear was not an option for me.

Carefully folding the note, I replaced it in the envelope. "I'll be there."

Miranda's mouth twisted into what seemed to be a sneer. "Then may God help you."

The Knightly Estate

Massive, frigid, and eerily quiet, the house towered above me like something from a gothic tale. High,

black iron gates were guarded by surveillance cameras that followed me everywhere. Before I could

even take in my surroundings, the driver of the vehicle that had picked me up slowed to a halt at the

entrance and opened my door.

Stay, "Miss Wells," he said.

I walked outside while fiddling with the strap of my shabby handbag. My anxieties burned hotter than

any cold, even though the early air was brisk.

Before I could knock, the mansion's door sprang open.

Then I caught sight of him.

Knight, Damian.

Tall. Imposing. The way they exuded sheer force made my breath catch. His out t his wide body

lawlessly and was as dark as midnight. His eyes were a piercing blue that could freeze a human in

place, and his sharp jaw was tightened.

His steady, calculating glance ran over me as if he was already determining whether or not I was

worthless.

"You’re late."

I blinked. "It’s 7:58."

"Two minutes wasted." Despite his controlled and quiet voice, there was a keen edge to it. "That won’t

happen again."

I raised my chin despite the chill that went down my spine. "It won’t."

His countenance changed too quickly for me to notice. He turned on his heel and went inside without

saying another word.

I took a deep breath, pushed my feet forward, and entered the lion's lair.

Getting to know Aria

The house was sleek and futuristic and lacked any warmth, and the inside was just as frigid as the

outside.

Damian kept up his relentless pace as he guided me down a lengthy corridor. "You’ll have one task

here," he continued without glancing at me. "Keep my daughter in line."

I scowled. "She’s a child, not a soldier."

He halted so suddenly that I almost bumped into him. His face was inscrutable as he turned. "She is

my daughter. And you'll follow instructions."

A piercing scream reverberated through the corridors before I could reply.

I winced.

Damian didn't. "That would be her."

I trailed behind him into an opulent playroom, although it didn't seem to be used. The bookshelves

were spotless, and the toys were arranged as if they had never been touched. Aria stood on a fallen

chair in the middle of the room.

Her little form was stained with dance as dark locks fell about her face. Beside her, on the other, was a

broken glass with a puddle of milk around it.

"Miss Carter quit," the little girl said, crossing her arms. "She said I’m a brat."

Beneath all that bluster, her voice carried a loneliness that made my chest constrict.

Damian's mouth twitched. "You will not act out again, Aria."

Aria's little fingers tightened. "Make me."

I was unsure of what was driving me, but I moved forward before Damian could say anything.

"Throwing things won’t scare me, you know."

Aria's large emerald eyes narrowed as she turned. "Are you the new one?"

I cocked my head. "I'm not sure. Will you frighten me away as you did the previous time?"

Quiet.

Then—Aria grinned.

It wasn't a kind, naive smile. Instead, it was a deliberate move that made me think too much about the

guy next to me.

She was undoubtedly his daughter, I see.

Simply put, "I like you," Aria remarked.

Damian's eyebrows raised slightly as if he was taken aback.

I looked directly into Aria's eyes. "I’ll be here tomorrow."

"Don’t count on it," she thought as she sprung from the chair and skipped to the door. "The others

thought that too."

I glanced back to Damian as she vanished down the hall.

He was observing me with an unfathomable face. After that—he grinned.

"Let’s see how long you last, Miss Wells."

A glimmer of uncertainty coiled in my chest as I stood there, feeling the weight of his stare.

Had I just committed the most disastrous error of my life?

Or had I gone right into something from which I was unable to get away?