Billionaire Grump

A week ago, having kids wasn’t even in my 10-year plan.

Now, I have a 5-year-old daughter who will hardly look in my direction.

I am aware that Amelia is grieving her mother’s death, and I swear I’m not a complete jerk, but I jumped on a private jet to Chicago at a moment’s notice, and the kid won’t even say a word to me.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, our pilot just got sick and I have to fly commercial for the first time in years.

You’d think that would be the end of it, but no.

The cherry on top?

Amelia would rather interact with Clare, the divorced, jobless, tipsy woman sitting right in front of us, than me.

She chats with her, she smiles at her—she even draws her a freaking picture.

I would be really mad if I didn’t actually need a nanny. Urgently.

Since my assistant screwed my ad over and made me look like a grumpy billionaire desperately looking for a wife, Clare suddenly seems perfect for the job.

She has no place to live, no idea who I am, and no qualms about being my live-in nanny on a trial basis.

The problem is, I think I might want to keep her around longer…