Samantha Lewis never thought she'd be interviewing another nanny this soon. At twenty-nine, she ran a company that built robotic machines for hospitals and homes, yet she couldn't find a single person who could handle her seven-year-old twins.
Her arms crossed, she leaned against the doorway of her office, her sleek black suit perfectly fitted, red hair falling in waves over her shoulders. On the floor in front of her sat Marcus and Mike—miraculously quiet, legs folded, eyes wide. The reason?
The girl with them.
"Okay, gentlemen," Cassandra Raye Elbert—Cassie, as she introduced herself—said, crouching so she was eye-level with the twins. Her long brown curls brushed her cheek as she smiled at them. "Rule number one: no fighting over cookies. Or I eat them all. Simple."
Both boys gasped as if she'd threatened world peace.
"That's evil," Marcus declared.
"Very evil," Mike agreed.
"Evil works," Cassie replied sweetly, rising to her feet.
Sam raised a brow, astonished. She had tried every trick in the book—time outs, rewards, threats, even one of her company's prototype robots programmed to dispense snacks on command. Nothing had ever stopped the twins' bickering. And now this twenty-two-year-old girl, with her messy curls and hazel eyes sparkling with mischief, had them sitting like little angels.
"You've got to be kidding me," Sam muttered under her breath.
Cassie turned, catching the comment. "Too good to be true?" she teased.
Sam straightened her jacket. "Something like that."
But her eyes lingered, just a second too long, on the curve of Cassie's smile.
The interview had turned into an impromptu babysitting demonstration, and now, as Sam led Cassie through the hallways of the Lewis estate, she found herself strangely unsettled.
"You'll be staying here full-time," Sam said briskly, showing Cassie into the guest room on the second floor. The room was spacious, with pale walls and a wide window overlooking the garden. "I've gone through five nannies in the past three months. None lasted more than a week. The boys are… energetic."
"That's one word for it," Cassie said lightly, setting down her duffel bag. She turned in a slow circle, taking in the room. "This is… bigger than my dorm room. Thank you, Ms. Lewis."
"Sam," she corrected quickly. "Just Sam. 'Ms. Lewis' makes me sound like my mother."
Cassie smirked. "Wouldn't put it past you."
Sam's lips twitched. She wasn't used to employees talking back. But Cassie said it with such warmth, such fearless humor, that she didn't know how to be annoyed.
Then Cassie's expression softened. "I'll be honest. My dad's in the hospital back home. It's been tough, and money's tight. I'm at my last year of bioengineering, but tuition doesn't pay itself. So… I'll make this work. I need this job."
For a moment, Sam forgot the CEO mask she wore so well. She looked at Cassie—really looked—and something in her chest tightened. Hazel eyes, bright but tired. Shoulders that carried more than they should. A smile that fought against worry.
"You'll make it work," Sam said quietly, surprising herself with the gentleness in her tone. "I can already see that."
Cassie met her gaze and didn't look away. The air stretched between them, humming. Sam's throat went dry, and she forced herself to turn, motioning toward the closet.
Dangerous, she warned herself. Way too dangerous.
The next morning, Sam padded into the kitchen in her heels, hair still damp from her shower, coffee on her mind. What she walked into stopped her in her tracks.
The kitchen—usually a war zone of spilled cereal and screaming—was alive with laughter. Marcus and Mike were perched on stools at the island, mouths full of pancakes. Cassie stood at the stove, spatula in hand, hips swaying slightly to a tune only she could hear.
Sam froze in the doorway, watching longer than she should have. The easy curve of Cassie's waist, the bounce of her curls, the unguarded joy on her face—things Sam hadn't noticed in anyone in years. She swallowed, heat prickling up her neck, before clearing her throat.
"Mom!" Marcus called, syrup dripping down his chin. "Cassie makes pancakes better than you!"
"Traitors," Sam said dryly, arching a brow. "In my own home?"
"Sorry, Mom, but it's true!" Mike added, licking syrup off his fingers.
Cassie glanced over her shoulder, hazel eyes sparkling. "I'll take that as a compliment. Don't worry, Sam, I won't touch your coffee. I'm not that brave."
Sam let out a laugh before she could stop herself. The sound felt strange, like she hadn't used it in weeks. "Smart girl," she said, crossing to the coffee maker.
For a moment, Cassie's gaze lingered on her, unreadable. Sam felt it like a hand on her skin, even as she focused on pouring coffee.
When their eyes finally met, it was only for a heartbeat. But in that heartbeat, Sam knew exactly what the problem was.
She wanted. And wanting Cassie was the most dangerous thing she could do.
The next day
The house was finally quiet.
For Samantha Lewis, silence usually meant she could bury herself in spreadsheets, contracts, or late-night calls with shareholders across time zones. Tonight, though, she found herself restless. Her fiancée Fiona's name lit up on her phone—another message from overseas—but Sam didn't open it. Instead, she poured herself a glass of wine and wandered the hallways.
That was when she heard it: a faint laugh.
She followed the sound to the den, the warm glow of a lamp spilling through the crack in the doorway. Sam pushed it open, and the sight made her pause.
Cassie sat cross-legged on the couch in pajama shorts and a loose T-shirt, one of the twins curled on either side of her. Marcus was already asleep against her shoulder, but Mike was still wide-eyed, whispering something that made Cassie stifle a laugh.
Sam leaned against the frame, arms folded. "Bedtime was an hour ago."
Mike's head snapped up. "But Mom, Cassie tells better stories than you."
Sam raised a brow. "Et tu, Mike?"
Cassie looked up, caught between guilt and amusement. "Sorry. I didn't realize the time. We… lost track."
Sam's eyes narrowed, but the truth was, the sight of her boys at peace—something rare—softened her irritation. "Fine. I'll allow it. But only because they're actually asleep."
Mike yawned. "Not yet…" He trailed off, succumbing to sleep mid-protest.
Cassie gently lowered him down, brushing hair from his forehead. Sam's chest tightened at the tenderness in the gesture.
When Cassie looked back up, their eyes met.
"You're good with them," Sam said quietly.
Cassie smiled faintly. "They're good kids. Just need someone to listen."
Sam stepped further inside. "Most people don't last long enough to figure that out."
There was a pause. The twins' even breathing filled the silence, grounding the moment—but the air between the two women was heavier, thicker.
Sam's gaze dipped briefly to the soft curve of Cassie's bare legs curled on the couch, then snapped back up, heat crawling into her cheeks. She turned away, muttering, "I'll… help you carry them upstairs."
---
Later that night, Sam was heading back from her office when she noticed Cassie's door slightly ajar. She hesitated, then rapped lightly on the frame.
"Cass?"
No answer.
The light was still on. Sam pushed the door open a fraction more—and froze.
Cassie was standing by the dresser, earbuds in, swaying absentmindedly to music only she could hear. Her T-shirt had ridden up as she stretched, revealing a sliver of skin above her shorts. She spun, startled when she noticed Sam in the doorway, tugging the shirt down in a rush.
"God, Sam, you scared me."
Sam's throat went dry. "Sorry. I didn't mean to—" She gestured vaguely, struggling for composure. "I just wanted to check if you were settling in okay."
"I am." Cassie pulled out an earbud, cheeks flushed. "Thanks. For… all of this. The job, the room. I know you didn't have to take a chance on me."
Sam's eyes softened. "You earned it. In about ten minutes flat."
The silence stretched again, neither moving. Cassie's gaze lingered on her, steady, curious—too curious. Sam shifted under it, suddenly aware of the distance between them… and how small the room felt.
"I should let you sleep," Sam said at last, voice lower than she intended.
Cassie's lips curved, almost teasing. "Goodnight, Sam."
Sam closed the door more quickly than necessary, exhaling hard once she was alone in the hallway. Her pulse hammered in her throat.
Dangerous, she thought again. High-level dangerous.
But for the first time in years, she wasn't sure she cared.