Mine To Claim

Chapter 4

Anna

“Will you ever learn to knock before entering, Ms. Steele?” he said, his voice sharp and impatient.

I bit back a sigh. There had to be some cosmic rule that all men who looked like walking magazine covers were contractually obligated to be insufferable.

“I’m sorry,” I said calmly, though my patience was already wearing thin. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Professional. Polite. Controlled.

Even if he looked like he woke up determined to dislike me.

“Take a seat.”

He didn’t look up from his laptop as he said it.

I walked toward the chair with my full attention fixed on my heels. I still didn’t understand how uncomfortable footwear had become synonymous with professionalism. I was interviewing to care for a child, not to walk a runway. In my opinion, the ideal nanny uniform should involve sneakers and clothes you could comfortably kneel, sprint, or crawl in if required.

Somehow, miraculously, I reached the chair without tripping. If Clare were here, she’d be applauding.

The moment I sat down, I looked up and my brief sense of victory vanished.

David Walton’s jaw was tense, his expression unreadable, and there was a distinct lack of patience in his eyes. He finally glanced up at me, clearly unimpressed by the entire situation.

To break the silence, I reached into my bag and placed my resume neatly on his desk.

“Sir, my resume.”

“I’ve already read it,” he said, eyes flicking briefly over the page before returning to me. “I asked you back because you actually seemed to care about children.”

That wasn’t what I expected.

“Yes,” I said softly. “I do.”

It wasn’t something I had to exaggerate or defend. Caring for children had always come naturally to me, maybe because I’d learned early how much presence mattered.

“He isn’t like other children,” he continued, leaning back slightly. “He doesn’t talk much. He keeps to himself.”

There was something different in his voice now.

Concern.

Not the performative kind, but the quiet kind that settled into the lines of his face.

I studied him for a moment. Beneath the tailored suit and intimidating presence, he looked… tired. Worn down in a way money couldn’t fix.

“Was he always like this,” I asked carefully, “or did it start recently?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, his gaze drifted toward the window, as if whatever he was about to say was easier to face when he wasn’t looking at me.

“He wasn’t always this quiet,” he said finally. “He used to be… loud. Curious. Always running around.”

He paused, fingers tightening slightly against the arm of his chair.

“Last year, his parents were traveling,” he continued, his voice steady but distant. “There was an accident. They died before resching the hospital.”

Something in my chest tightened.

“And my father,” he added quietly. “He passed the same night.”

The words settled slowly, heavily, like dust after a collapse.

I didn’t gasp. I didn’t cry.

I simply felt my breath change.

I had learned a long time ago that grief didn’t always announce itself loudly. Sometimes it crept in, subtle and suffocating, pressing against old scars you never quite realized had healed.

“I’m sorry,” I said after a moment. It felt inadequate, but it was honest.

He looked back at me then, eyes sharp. “I don’t need sympathy, Ms. Steele. I need to know if you can help him. If you can’t, it’s better we’re honest now.”

I nodded slowly.

“I think I can,” I said. “Not because I’m overly confident but because I understand what it feels like when the world suddenly goes quiet.”

His brow furrowed. “Explain.”

I hesitated. I didn’t usually talk about this. Not with strangers. Especially not with men like him.

“I lost my parents too,” I said carefully. “When I was young.”

His expression shifted, just for a fraction of a second but I saw it.

Surprise. Regret. Something like guilt.

“I was six,” I continued. “It was my birthday. I was angry because I wanted a specific cake. I remember standing by the door, convinced they’d be back any minute.”

I paused, the memory sharp and unwelcome.

“They never were.”

The room went quiet.

“I didn’t talk much either after that,” I added. “Not because I didn’t have words. I just didn’t see the point of using them.”

He didn’t interrupt.

That alone surprised me.

“Children don’t need to be pushed to heal,” I said gently. “They need to feel safe enough to do it at their own pace.”

He studied me for a long moment, then nodded once.

“You have the job,” he said.

I blinked. “What?”

“Your salary will be twenty-five thousand.”

I let out a short, incredulous laugh before I could stop myself. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“That’s significantly higher than what was mentioned in the job post.”

“I know,” he replied evenly. “That was for a twelve-hour schedule. I no longer need that.”

I frowned. “Then what do you need?”

“I want you here full-time,” he said simply. “As a live-in nanny. Liam needs consistency, not shifts.”

Here.

As in living here.

“And my responsibilities?” I asked, choosing my words carefully, forcing myself to stay focused. “My role would be limited to caring for Liam, correct?”

“Yes,” he answered immediately. “Your responsibility is Liam and only Liam. The household staff will handle everything else.”

My brain struggled to keep up.

“Okay,” I said, because it was the only word that came to mind.

The rest blurred together, phone numbers, instructions, logistics. I walked out of his office feeling like the ground had shifted beneath my feet.

An hour ago, I’d been unemployed, nearly homeless, and panicking over tuition fees.

Now I had a job that paid more than I’d ever imagined and a place to live that looked like it belonged in a movie.

*******

Convincing Clare took longer than expected.

She stared at me like I’d lost my mind until I showed her the email confirmation.

“Anna,” she said slowly, “if this is a prank, it’s the cruelest one ever.”

“It’s not,” I said, laughing. “I swear.”

By evening, I was packing which didn’t take long, given my minimal collection of worldly possessions.

At five sharp, the doorbell rang.

I opened it to find a man standing there who looked like he’d walked straight out of a magazine, tall, sharp suit, relaxed smile, the kind of good-looking that felt effortless.

“Mark,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m here to help you move.”

“Well, that already makes this the most organized thing that’s happened to me all day,” I said, shaking it.

He laughed, warm and easy. “That bad, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

The drive was unexpectedly comfortable. Mark kept the radio low, switching stations until something decent came on instead of announcing it like a formal choice.

“You okay with this?” he asked. “Or should I spare you my questionable taste?”

“Please,” I said. “Anything’s better than silence. Silence makes me overthink.”

He smirked. “That explains the seatbelt.”

I glanced down. My fingers were, in fact, gripping it like it owed me money. I loosened my hold with a sheepish smile. “I’m about to move into a billionaire’s house and take care of his nephew. I feel like I’m allowed to panic just a little.”

“Just a little,” he agreed. “You’re doing better than most.”

“Most?”

“You didn’t cry,” he said thoughtfully. “Or flirt.”

“That was an option?” I deadpanned.

“Oh, very popular one.”

I snorted. “Good to know I missed my chance.”

He glanced at me again, assessing, not in an uncomfortable way, just curious. “You’re different.”

I shrugged. “I hear that a lot. Usually right before something goes wrong.”

“Not this time,” he said easily. “You’ll be fine. David can be… intense, but he respects people who don’t bend.”

I nodded, though my mind betrayed me by replaying the image of a certain pair of sharp eyes and a voice that seemed to command a room without trying.

Mark was handsome, charming even. The kind of man I’d normally notice.

But he didn’t make my pulse stutter the way David did.

Didn’t make me feel like I was constantly one wrong breath away from saying something stupid.

“You look like you’re bracing for impact,” Mark said, amusement dancing in his tone.

“I think I am.”

“Well,” he said, pulling up to the gates, “welcome to impact.”

When we arrived, the house loomed before me, grand, imposing, the kind of place that made you straighten your spine without realizing it.

Mark parked, stepped out first, and opened my door with an exaggerated flourish. “Careful,” he said. “These steps look like they were designed to humble people.”

“I’ve already humiliated myself twice today,” I replied. “What’s one more time?”

He grinned. “You’re doing great. No tripping yet.”

“Give me a minute.”

We were still laughing when Mark stopped suddenly.

I bumped into his back with a soft oof.

I looked up.

Cold eyes met mine.

David stood a few steps away, expression unreadable, posture rigid like he’d been carved out of the marble behind him rather than standing in front of it. His gaze flicked briefly to Mark, then back to me, sharp and assessing.

“If you’re done,” he said curtly, voice clipped, “Ms. Steele will meet Liam.”

The words landed heavier than they should have.

Mark straightened beside me. “Of course.”

David didn’t acknowledge him further. His attention moved on as if the moment before had never existed.

“Mark,” he added, already turning away, “give her belongings to Martha.”

“Yes, sir,” Mark replied, though his brows lifted slightly, a question he didn’t voice.

I barely noticed.

I was too focused on the sudden chill in the air, on the way David’s jaw tightened just a fraction before he walked off, expecting me to follow.

Which I did.