Seren Marlowe had exactly forty-three dollars in her checking account when the gates of the Blackwood estate opened.

She knew because she'd checked twice in the Uber.

Forty-three dollars, an overdue electric bill, and six days until rent was due.

So when the wrought-iron gates swung apart, revealing a long drive lined with old oaks and a stone mansion large enough to have its own zip code, Seren told herself one thing.

She needed this job.

"Mom?"

She looked down.

Kai stood beside her with his dinosaur backpack hanging from one shoulder, his dark hair refusing to stay flat despite the water she'd used on it that morning.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Are rich people allowed to have houses this big?"

Despite herself, she smiled.

"Apparently."

"That's not fair."

"Nope."

"Can we have one?"

"Ask me again after I get the job."

Kai considered that.

"Okay."

Seren took his hand.

The position was almost suspiciously perfect.

Live-in nanny to a six-year-old girl. Private quarters. Excellent salary. Health insurance.

And, most importantly, permission for Seren's son to live on the property with her.

She hadn't asked why a family this wealthy would agree to that.

Desperate people didn't interrogate miracles.

They accepted them.

A woman was waiting at the front entrance when they approached.

She was somewhere in her early sixties, silver hair pinned neatly at her nape, posture elegant enough to make Seren straighten hers automatically.

"Ms. Marlowe?"

"Yes."

"Evelyn Hart. Estate manager."

They shook hands.

Evelyn's gaze moved to Kai.

"And you must be Kai."

Kai offered his hand with grave seriousness.

"Kai Marlowe."

Evelyn shook it.

"I've heard good things about you."

Kai glanced suspiciously at his mother.

"What did you tell her?"

"Nothing that can be used in court."

Evelyn's mouth twitched.

Good.

At least one person here had a sense of humor.

"Come in."

The foyer was breathtaking without trying to be.

No glittering chandeliers or obvious displays of wealth. Just pale stone, dark wood, fresh flowers, and paintings Seren suspected cost more than everything she'd earned in her life combined.

Old money.

The quiet kind.

Somehow, that was worse.

"The position is primarily for Poppy," Evelyn explained as they walked. "She's six. Her parents died two years ago."

Seren's expression softened.

"I'm sorry."

"Her uncle has legal guardianship."

"And he lives here?"

"When he's in New York."

Of course.

Seren could already picture him.

Forty-five. Divorced. Married to his phone. Probably had an assistant who reminded him when the child had a birthday.

She'd worked for men like that before.

She could handle one more.

"Poppy has gone through three nannies in fourteen months," Evelyn continued.

Seren glanced at her.

"That bad?"

"That particular."

"Ah."

"She doesn't respond well to people who treat her like a responsibility."

That, Seren understood.

Children always knew when adults didn't really want them.

"Where is she?"

"Upstairs. Refusing to come down."

Kai brightened.

"I can get her."

Seren caught the back of his hoodie.

"You absolutely cannot."

"But I'm good at kids."

"You are a kid."

"Exactly."

Evelyn laughed quietly.

It was the first time Seren had heard her do it.

"Perhaps he has a point."

Seren looked between them.

"I can see I'm already outnumbered."

Evelyn gestured toward a sitting room.

"Wait here. I'll take Kai upstairs to meet Poppy. If they get along, that will help."

Seren crouched in front of her son.

"Rules."

"No running."

"Good."

"No yelling."

"Good."

"No touching expensive things."

Kai looked around.

"How do I know which things are expensive?"

"In this house? Assume everything."

He nodded solemnly.

"Got it."

"And stay with Mrs. Hart."

"Mom."

"What?"

"I'm five. Not three."

Seren kissed his forehead.

"Unfortunately, I'm aware."

He wiped the kiss away with exaggerated disgust and followed Evelyn upstairs.

Seren watched until he disappeared.

Only then did she let her shoulders drop.

She needed this.

God, she needed this.

The temporary office work she'd been surviving on had ended three weeks ago. Her landlord had been patient exactly once. Kai needed new shoes. Her car needed brakes she couldn't afford.

And she was tired.

Not sleepy.

Tired in the deep, humiliating way that came from calculating the price of milk before putting it in the cart.

"Ms. Marlowe?"

Seren turned.

A young woman in a navy dress stood in the doorway.

"Mr. Blackwood is ready for you."

Seren blinked.

"Mr. Blackwood?"

"The final interview."

Of course.

The uncle.

She picked up her résumé.

"Lead the way."

They crossed the foyer and continued down a hallway toward the back of the house.

Seren barely noticed the framed family photographs on the walls.

If she had looked more closely, she might have saved herself.

She might have seen the familiar face in a photograph beside the library.

She might have grabbed Kai and walked straight out the front door.

Instead, she followed the assistant into a study.

The room smelled faintly of cedar and coffee.

A man stood with his back to her, one hand holding a phone to his ear as he looked through tall windows overlooking the grounds.

Seren stopped.

No.

It wasn't his face.

Not yet.

It was his shoulders.

The way he stood.

The low, controlled cadence of his voice.

Her body recognized him before her mind allowed itself to.

"Move the call to Thursday," he said. "No, I'm not flying to London tomorrow. Figure it out."

Seren couldn't breathe.

He ended the call.

Turned.

And five years disappeared.

Adrian Blackwood stared at her.

The sharp line of his jaw was harder now. His dark hair was shorter. The charcoal suit probably cost more than her car had when it still ran.

But his eyes were the same.

Steel blue.

Cold until they weren't.

For one terrible second, neither of them spoke.

Then Adrian said her name.

"Seren."

Not Ms. Marlowe.

Seren.

The assistant looked between them.

"You know each other?"

Adrian's gaze never left Seren's face.

"Yes."

Seren found her voice.

"Barely."

Something flickered in his expression.

Anger.

Good.

Anger she could survive.

Anything else would be harder.

"You can go, Claire," Adrian said.

The door closed behind the assistant.

Silence rushed in.

Adrian set his phone on the desk.

"So."

Seren tightened her grip on her résumé.

"So."

"Five years."

She said nothing.

"And you walk into my house."

"I didn't know it was yours."

His eyes dropped to the papers in her hand.

"As a nanny."

"I applied through an agency."

"I know how you applied."

Of course he did.

He probably knew the employment history of everyone who entered his property.

Seren lifted her chin.

"If this is going to be a problem, I'll leave."

"Will you?"

She hated how quietly he said it.

"Yes."

"You're good at that."

The words landed exactly where he'd intended.

Seren looked away.

"I came here for a job, Adrian."

"And I thought you came here because you missed me."

She looked back at him.

There it was.

That arrogance.

That infuriating, impossible arrogance she'd once found attractive.

"Don't flatter yourself."

His mouth almost curved.

Almost.

Then his gaze hardened again.

"You disappeared."

"I left."

"Without a word."

That wasn't true.

But explaining why would open a door Seren had spent five years barricading shut.

So she said, "It was a long time ago."

"Not to me."

The answer was too fast.

Too honest.

It unsettled them both.

Adrian looked away first.

Seren hated that some stupid, traitorous part of her heart reacted to it.

She forced herself back to the reason she was here.

"Do I still have an interview?"

He stared at her.

"You actually want this job?"

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"You'd live on the property."

"I read the listing."

"In my house."

"It's a very large house. I'm confident we can avoid each other."

That earned her a humorless laugh.

"You haven't changed."

"You have."

His gaze sharpened.

"Have I?"

Yes.

He looked harder.

More controlled.

More dangerous.

And somehow even more unfairly handsome than he had at twenty-seven.

Seren hated him a little for that.

Before she could answer, there was a crash somewhere outside the study.

Then a child's voice.

"Mom!"

Every muscle in Seren's body locked.

No.

Footsteps raced toward the door.

"Kai, wait!"

The door flew open.

Kai barreled into the room holding a plastic T. rex in one hand.

"Mom, Poppy has a whole dinosaur shelf and she said I can—"

He stopped.

Seren's heart slammed against her ribs.

Adrian turned.

Kai looked up at him.

For the first time in five years, father and son stood in the same room.

Neither knew what to do with the other.

Kai recovered first.

"Hi."

Adrian didn't answer.

His gaze had gone strangely still.

Seren knew what he was seeing.

Dark hair.

Straight little nose.

The faint crease between Kai's brows when he was confused.

And the eyes.

God.

Those eyes.

Steel blue.

Exactly like Adrian's.

Evelyn appeared behind Kai, slightly breathless.

"I'm sorry. He got away from me."

"It's okay," Seren said too quickly.

She crossed the room and placed both hands on Kai's shoulders.

"We should go."

"But you didn't finish your interview."

"We're finished."

"No, we're not."

Adrian's voice stopped her.

Seren looked at him.

He wasn't looking at her.

He was still looking at Kai.

"What's your name?" Adrian asked.

Kai glanced at Seren before answering.

"Kai."

"Kai what?"

"Kai Marlowe."

Adrian nodded slowly.

"How old are you?"

Seren's fingers tightened on her son's shoulders.

"Adrian."

His eyes lifted briefly to hers.

Just briefly.

Then back to Kai.

"I'm five."

A beat.

"When did you turn five?"

Seren felt cold.

Kai, oblivious, smiled.

"April."

Silence.

Adrian's expression didn't change.

That was what frightened her.

He had always been most dangerous when his face gave nothing away.

Evelyn seemed to sense something in the room.

"Kai, why don't you come help me find Poppy?"

"But—"

"Now, sweetheart," Seren said.

Kai frowned at her but followed Evelyn out.

The door clicked shut.

Seren didn't move.

Neither did Adrian.

Then his gaze drifted toward the bookshelves behind her.

A silver-framed photograph sat between two leather-bound books.

Seren had noticed it when she entered.

She hadn't understood its significance.

Now she did.

Adrian at five years old.

Dark hair falling over his forehead.

Small, serious mouth.

Steel-blue eyes.

He crossed the room.

Picked up the photograph.

Looked at it.

Then looked toward the door Kai had just walked through.

Seren's pulse thundered in her ears.

Adrian set the frame down very carefully.

Too carefully.

When he finally looked at her, the anger from earlier was gone.

Something else had replaced it.

Something calculating.

Something stunned.

Something dangerously close to suspicion.

"You have a son."

Seren forced herself to breathe.

"Yes."

"You never mentioned him."

"We haven't spoken in five years."

Another silence.

Then Adrian slid both hands into his pockets and watched her with an expression she couldn't read.

His next question sounded almost casual.

It wasn't.

"Where's his father?"