The Billionaire’s Nanny

Chapter Four

Dean’s POV

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and Dean Knight straightened his tie out of habit. Not because it mattered, he wasn’t the type of man to fuss about appearances anymore—but because it kept his restless hands busy. He had meetings lined up with investors later in the day, but this particular hour had been carved out for something more personal, something he didn’t have the patience for: interviewing yet another nanny.

He hated this process. Endless resumes, polite smiles, and the kind of rehearsed answers that told him nothing about the person who might spend hours with his son. None of them lasted. None of them fit. His four-year-old, Liam, didn’t warm easily, and Dean didn’t trust anyone enough to leave them in charge of the most precious thing in his world.

Not after what happened.

The thought clawed at him, and for a brief second, he closed his eyes, inhaling sharply through his nose. Isabella. Her name was like a ghost in the air, a wound that never closed. He could still see her smile, still hear her voice, then the way it faded the night she didn’t make it through childbirth. That was the day the world had gone cold, and so had he.

“Sir?” Marlene, his long-time assistant, poked her head into the conference room. “The next applicant is here.”

Dean nodded stiffly. “Send her in.”

He braced himself, expecting another well-dressed stranger with perfectly prepared references. What he wasn’t prepared for was her.

Angel.

She stepped into the room, and for a split second, the air shifted. Her hair was pulled back neatly, her clothes simple, almost modest compared to the polished candidates he’d seen before. But her eyes, those familiar, gentle eyes, met his with a flash of recognition. He knew her.

And damn it, Liam knew her too.

Dean’s jaw tightened. Of course. This was the young woman his son wouldn’t stop mentioning, the “angel” he’d met at the park weeks ago. Liam had laughed with her, clung to her as though she were already part of their world. He’d babbled about her for days afterward, something that both warmed and unsettled Dean. His son didn’t talk to people easily. But her? She’d cracked through that guarded little heart in a matter of minutes.

Dean leaned back in his chair, masking the sudden jolt of emotion with practiced indifference. “Miss…?”

“Angel Martinez,” she said softly, her voice carrying a mixture of nerves and determination.

Of course it is. Angel. The irony wasn’t lost on him. She had the name of something pure, untouched, everything he no longer believed in.

He gestured to the seat across from him. “Sit.”

She obeyed quickly, smoothing her skirt as she settled down. There was a flicker of anxiety in her eyes, but also fire, the kind of resilience Dean respected, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

“Why are you here?” he asked bluntly.

Her lips parted, clearly taken aback by his directness. Most applicants expected small talk first, a few pleasantries. He didn’t waste time with those.

“I’m applying for the nanny position,” she said, her voice steadier this time. “I’ve worked with children before, and I”

“You’ve met my son,” Dean interrupted, watching her reaction carefully.

Her brows lifted, then she nodded. “Yes. At the park. He… he’s a wonderful boy.” Her lips curved into a smile, genuine, unpracticed. “Very bright. Very kind.”

Something twisted in Dean’s chest. Kind. Liam had Isabella’s kindness. It was the only piece of her he had left.

“Liam doesn’t usually warm up to strangers,” Dean said flatly. “That concerns me.”

Her expression faltered. “Concerns you? Why?”

“Because it means you were able to get close to him far too quickly.” His voice was sharper than he intended, but he didn’t soften it. He couldn’t. “And I don’t trust people who make it that easy.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Angel’s hands tightened in her lap, but she didn’t back down. “Maybe he needed someone to listen,” she said quietly. “Children know when someone cares. They feel it. I didn’t do anything except be there.”

Dean studied her, searching for cracks in her resolve, but she met his gaze with surprising strength. Most candidates fumbled under his intensity. She didn’t.

Marlene slipped in with a folder and placed it on the table. Dean opened it, scanning through Angel’s resume. Sparse. A few odd jobs, some childcare experience, but nothing that screamed qualified in the traditional sense. He could already hear his father’s disapproval. You’re trusting your heir to someone like her?

But Dean wasn’t looking for traditional. He needed someone who understood Liam, who wouldn’t treat him like an obligation. Still, he couldn’t just let emotion dictate this.

“You’re young,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her file. “And your background is… limited.”

Her shoulders squared. “I may not have the longest resume, but I know how to take care of children. And I’m willing to learn whatever you need me to.”

Dean set the folder down and leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “Why do you really want this job?”

Angel hesitated. He saw the flicker in her eyes, the way her throat bobbed as if she were swallowing words she didn’t want to say. Finally, she answered, her voice softer. “Because I need it. Desperately.”

That, at least, rang with honesty.

He let the silence draw out, forcing her to sit with the weight of it. “Need,” he repeated slowly. “That doesn’t inspire confidence, Miss Martinez. Need makes people desperate. Desperate people make mistakes.”

Her chin lifted, fire sparking in her gaze again. “Maybe. But desperate people also work harder than anyone else. I won’t let you down.”

Dean’s lips pressed into a thin line. She was bold, too bold for someone in her position. But something about her words hit closer than he wanted to admit. He knew desperation. He’d lived in it the night Isabella died, when he held his son in his arms and promised he’d never fail him.

He exhaled slowly, dragging his hand across his jaw. “This isn’t just a job, Miss Martinez. It’s a commitment. Liam has already lost enough. I will not have someone walk into his life and then disappear when it becomes inconvenient. Do you understand?”

Her voice was steady. “I do.”

Dean studied her again, longer this time. There was no artifice in her expression, no carefully constructed façade. Just a young woman holding herself together with quiet determination. Against his better judgment, something in him shifted.

“Fine,” he said at last, his tone clipped. “You’ll start on a trial basis. One month. If you fail, you’re gone. No second chances.”

Her eyes widened slightly, then softened with relief. “Thank you, Mr. Knight.”

Dean stood, signaling the end of the interview. “Marlene will handle the details. Be here tomorrow morning at eight sharp. Don’t be late.”

She rose to her feet, her smile tentative but genuine. “I won’t.”

He didn’t return the smile. Couldn’t. He couldn’t afford to let her, or anyone, close. Not when the risk was so high. As she left the room, Dean turned toward the window, staring out at the skyline of Miami glittering beneath the sun.

Hiring her was probably a mistake.

But when Liam’s laughter echoed in his mind, the way he’d clung to her as if he’d found a missing piece, Dean knew one thing for certain: he didn’t have a choice.

For his son, he’d take the risk.

Even if it costs him everything.