Chapter5 Terms That Tie Them Together
1128 Words
Saying no to Adrian Kade was nearly impossible.
His offer was practical almost to the point of cruelty: half of her salary would go toward repaying her mother’s medical bills, the other half straight into her hands. In return, her mother would receive the best care the hospital could offer. The only condition? She could not, under any circumstances, repeat the mistakes of the previous nanny.
It was a generous proposal; It was also a warning.
And for Adrian, it was more than generosity. It was a calculated exchange—one in which every variable tilted in his favor. A girl from an ordinary family, juggling classes and work, terrified of losing her mother… gratitude would make her compliant. Predictable. Easy to manage.
Conveniently, she is quite good at cooking Chinese food, and Manny seemed to like her. And most importantly, she shared Manny’s rare blood type.
Businessmen like Adrian were born for profits, and they certainly did not do charity.
So when Lila signed her name at the bottom of the contract, neither of them questioned whether this was fair. It was efficient. Mutually beneficial. Clean. Only years later would they fully understand what they had signed themselves into.
“Move in as soon as possible,” Adrian said, glancing over her neat signature. “Preferably tomorrow.”
“Move in?” She blinked.
“Miss Harris,” he said, tapping one finger on the contract, “if you had read the terms carefully, you would know this is a live-in position. Next time you sign something, read every clause. It’s the only way to protect yourself.”
Her stomach sank. Live-in. Of course the pay had been unusually high, of course it was a twenty-four-hour commitment.
Still, he had given her five hours a day to stay with her mother—Manny’s school and therapy hours, she would later learn. Even his benevolence came with immaculate logic.
She packed quickly; she didn’t own much anyway. The next day, she moved into his penthouse—three hundred sq. ft overlooking the brightest part of Dalos. The nanny’s room she was assigned was still bigger and cleaner than any room she had lived in her entire life.
Manny remained in the hospital for observation that week, so Lila spent her days cooking, carrying meals back and forth, and splitting time between the two patients in her life.
Adrian barely came home. Oddly, that made it easier for her to breathe.
A week later, Manny was discharged. To her surprise, Adrian himself showed up to drive them home. Apparently, he hadn’t forgotten. He looked freshly pressed and unreasonably handsome in a tailored black suit. His jawline was sharper after a clean shave; strands of brown hair fell loose over his forehead, softening the severity of his features. He looked like a man who hadn’t slept much, but refused to show it.
“Mr. Kade,” Lila greeted, lowering her eyes almost immediately.
He noticed that.
She’d been avoiding his gaze ever since their first confrontation, like a skittish cat who had learned its limits the hard way.
“How is your mother?” he asked.
The question startled her.
“The doctor said the chemotherapy is working. She’s stronger. And… knowing I found a stable job made her feel better.”
He nodded once. “Good.”
They climbed into the back seat with Manny, who sat silently, watching the city slide by in reverse through the window. He was always quieter after leaving the hospital—like the world outside was too bright, too loud, too alive.
The car felt unnervingly quiet. Lila sensed a distance between uncle and nephew that went beyond silence—something colder, older, and deeper.
She didn’t pry.
That night, Adrian didn’t return to the office. For the first time, the sprawling penthouse felt almost… full. Not crowded, but no longer echoing.
She peeked into the living room. Adrian sat on the couch, sleeves rolled up, eyes locked on lines of market data she didn’t understand. Manny worked on a two-thousand-piece puzzle with monastic concentration. Neither of them looked remotely interested in dinner.
She didn’t want to bother them, but she stood in front of the open refrigerator until she finally decided on pasta.
“Boil some for pasta for me,” Adrian said behind her. “And make something else, whatever you want.”
The sound of her knife against the cutting board carried through the room. Adrian paused mid-sentence in a financial report. Something tugged his attention—soft, subtle, almost intrusive.
He turned.
Lila stood at the counter, hair tied in a loose knot that exposed the graceful line of her neck. The apron cinched at her waist, emphasizing curves her oversized T-shirt usually hid. There was a quiet steadiness in the way she cooked—confident, practiced, effortless.
He hadn’t noticed the previous nanny. He rarely noticed anyone at all. But this girl—there was something unassuming yet arresting about her. A strange, gentle radiance that slipped past the walls he’d spent years constructing.
Her beauty was not loud. It wasn’t the polished, camera-ready glamour he was accustomed to. It was the kind that stole up on a man quietly—through soft profiles, clear eyes, and a femininity she didn’t even seem aware she possessed.
She turned at the sound of his footsteps, cheeks lightly flushed from the heat of the stove.
“Mr. Kade, dinner’s ready. Would you like to eat now?”
Her voice pulled him back into himself. He sat. She served him. And yet she didn’t join him.
“Sit,” he said.
She hesitated, fingers tugging discreetly at the knot of her apron.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I… seem to have tied a knot I can’t undo. It’s ok, I’ll deal with it later.”
“I’ll help.”
He stood behind her. The knot was indeed tight—tighter than necessary, as though she had pulled it in a moment of nerves.
She went perfectly still. He wasn’t unaffected either. The apron’s strings dug into the curve of her waist, and his fingers brushed the fabric stretched across her lower back. It was the slightest contact, the most innocent touch—yet something in the air thickened.
It had been a long time since he’d been this close to a woman. Too long.
“Mr. Kade,” she whispered, breath shallow, “if it’s too difficult… we can just cut it.”
“Be patient,” he murmured—almost to himself.
His voice was low, controlled, dangerously so. The knot loosened with a soft sigh of fabric, but neither of them moved at first.
Something had shifted, and neither of them had words for it yet.
- Writer
