Chapter 1

JADE

I crouch down and quickly swipe the feather duster over all the little odds and ends on the living room table. I know for a fact everything is already clean, but I have a routine, and prefer to keep the place in pristine condition.

A smile creeps across my face as I glance around the room. At times, I’m still surprised I live in such an expensive home in the most prestigious part of West Hollywood. Never in all my dreams did I think I would even walk through such a place, let alone actually live here. Luckily Rachel, my old roommate from college, introduced me to Magdalene Martez and suggested I apply for the nanny position she had available.

Being a nanny wasn’t my first career choice, but I was out of options at the time. Fresh out of college with my English degree in tow, the job market was scarce. If only I could have known that before racking up all those student loans. But once I met Jacob, Magdalene’s son, I fell completely in love with the little boy. After three months of caring for him full-time, there’s no place I’d rather be. In fact, I’m with him more than his actual parents are. It’s to the point where people often ask if he’s my son. I’m lucky we have such a close bond.

As if living in such a swanky place and caring for an adorable little boy isn’t enough, I’m able to fully dedicate myself to my real passion… cooking. The love I have for food runs deep and I have dreams of owning my own restaurant one day.

In the meantime, I have my own personal in-house taste tester in Magdalene. It seems like every night I’m trying out new recipes, like the roasted duck I made last night, or braised lamb with red potatoes which I made two nights ago. The other bonus in my life is the never-ending supply of fresh ingredients to work with. Like everything else around here, no expense is spared when it comes to grocery shopping. Magdalene prefers organic home-cooked meals, which is right up my alley. Jacob has never had fast food and I make it my business to keep it that way.

Just as I decide the living room is finished, Magdalene walks in with her purse on her shoulder. Watching as she stops to give herself a quick once over in the mirror, I find myself admiring her unbelievable figure. Most women need a little time to recover from childbirth, but Magdalene’s body has never looked better. Her fast metabolism helps keep her rail thin, just like she was in her modeling years, as far as I can tell from the photos I’ve seen around the condo. When she begins smoothing non-existent wrinkles from her tight dress, I wonder if something is bothering her.

Her small hands tug at the beautiful silk scarf draped around her neck before she tosses it onto the sofa I’ve just finished dusting. I wish we were the same size, because I absolutely love her style. With her generous clothing allowance, she definitely has more than she knows what to do with. In fact, I’ve never seen her wear the same thing twice. Despite my fashion envy, I love the curves on my petite frame and wouldn’t change a single thing. Some girls can pull off the model look, I’m not one of them.

Magdalene adds more lipstick to her already pouty red lips as she moves about in silence. The color pops against her perfect olive tone skin, and her sandy-colored hair cascades over her shoulders in beautiful waves. Jacob, who’s down for a nap, inherited his mother’s striking green eyes, although his eyes still hold that childlike innocence in them. Sadly, that feature is long gone from Magdalene.

“Jade, don’t forget to wipe down the picture frames,” says Magdalene, pointing her perfectly manicured finger in my direction.

I never forget. I know the ins and outs of this place better than you do.

I pick up the photo closest to me and smile, remembering the day I snapped it. It’s a picture of Jacob, captured mid laugh as he played with his father, Heath. To be honest, I hate any and all interactions I have with Heath Vanguard, one of the biggest assholes in Los Angeles. He’s overly demanding, and every word he has ever spoken to me has been extremely condescending. It seems Jacob is the only person who can make that man crack a smile, and even then, it’s a rare occasion. I don’t understand why Magdalene puts up with Heath, considering he only shows affection to his son.

Although I don’t care for how he treats me, he treats his on-and-off girlfriend Magdalene ten times worse. She’s the mother of his child, but she may as well call herself a glorified concubine. I’ve seen her cry on more occasions than I care to count, and to me I don’t think it’s worth it. Everything she could possibly want is at her fingertips, everything but Heath. When he feels like being bothered, he summons her to meet him at a moment’s notice. Whatever he wants, he gets, and it’s all on his time.

“I’m stepping out with Mr. Vanguard,” says Magdalene. “I’ll be back after dinner so no need to wait for me. Marie should be here in about an hour for Jacobs’s lessons, so make sure he’s had his snack before then.”

Marie, Jacob’s French tutor, is an absolute terror, and I do my best to avoid her as much as possible when she’s here. She comes in three times a week to tutor Jacob. Well, she comes in and points at things as she says them in French while Jacob blows spit bubbles. I’ve never heard of anyone tutoring a nine-month-old child, but for the right price anything is possible. Magdalene read about infants picking up languages before they can speak, and the rest is history.

I try not to cringe watching Magdalene slip on her shoes, grab her purse, and sashay out the door. Peeking out the window just in time, I spot Magdalene exiting the building. Sure enough, the black Bentley Heath always sends is parked right out front, with the driver holding open the door to the backseat. Magdalene takes her time getting inside and I shake my head as the tail lights disappear into traffic.

He calls, and you run to meet him.

The shitty part is, he never bothers to call her himself. His secretary makes the calls for him, sometimes even going through me. He schedules meetings with her as if she’s a manicurist, or some other hired help.

I don’t realize I’m clenching my hand tightly until I hear the Tiffany frame clink against my ring. Glancing down at the picture still in my hand with a frown, my thoughts go to the man looking back at me. Even at forty-two, Heath is still fit as a fiddle, and annoyingly attractive for someone so mean. His blond hair has little touches of gray throughout and I hate to admit, if I didn’t know him personally, I’d absolutely give him a second glance.

After receiving my first paycheck, I Googled Heath as I noticed his company’s name signed my check instead of Magdalene. Despite already coming from a wealthy family, Heath acquired much of his money through hedge funds. I remember reading about his billionaire status for the first time and nearly choked on my latte. A millionaire in these parts is to be expected, but a billionaire, especially one with his figures, is a little shocking. I assume he’s the one funding this extravagant lifestyle, because I’ve never seen Magdalene go to any job that I know of since I’ve moved in.

She constantly recalls stories from her modeling career, but I know now that she’s thirty-six, Magdalene’s days as a working model are history. The modeling industry is savage and she’s on the wrong side of twenty-five.

I hope she realizes Heath has a type and unfortunately, it’s no longer her. His not-so-secret love life is all over the internet and a quick search returns story after story about his money and numerous sightings with different females of the city’s elite. One minute he’s lounging on the beach with a blonde bombshell, and the next minute he’s cuddling with a brunette in Paris. His status allows him into the inner circles of all the other elite in his international social circle.

Magdalene is either too blind to notice or simply doesn’t care. I can’t imagine being that smitten by love to overlook my mate’s philandering ways. Not that I have a mate to speak of. Dating doesn’t rate highly on my radar right now.

For obvious reasons, I keep my opinions to myself, and of course will never say anything to Magdalene about their little arrangement. If boss lady is happy being a secret mistress, then I certainly have no complaints either. I keep my mouth shut and focus on Jacob.

Finally placing the silver frame back on the table, I check the time before glancing over at the baby monitor. Jacob is awake from his nap and rolling around in his crib quietly. I go up the stairs and walk down the hall to his bedroom, which is right next door to mine. I push open the door and reach down into his crib to pick him up. He smiles and spits at me as we head back to the living room.

Sitting Jacob down on his elephant-print blanket, I rush over to the closet to grab a handful of his toys. He’s on my heels before I’m able to take two steps. He’s recently discovered how to move his legs enough to be considered crawling, and has been a little wiggle worm ever since. I have to be extra careful to keep things out of his way now.

“Let’s go, mister,” I say, reaching down to grab him with one hand and balance his box of toys with the other.

Gently placing him and the toys on the blanket, I sit down on the sofa and watch as he happily bangs on his miniature piano.

“Now you stay put while I get your snack together.”

Walking over to grab his organic cheese puffs and milk from the counter, I return to the blanket with a smile. My cell phone rings just as I’m about to plop down. Sliding it out of my pocket, I see the alert for a message inviting me out.

Rachel knows I can’t go out during the week.

I have my fingers ready to tap out my response when I pause to think of the last time I actually went somewhere and had a good time. Magdalene has strict rules about going out, especially if it involves drinking. While I completely understand her reasoning, I’m charged with caring for an infant and I’m no good to him if I’m drunk. It’s never lost on me that the same rule doesn’t apply to Magdalene. She certainly doesn’t seem to mind throwing a few back on a nightly basis. I’m positive she’s more familiar with red wine than she is with water.

A loud bang on the piano draws my attention back to the floor. Clapping my hands as if he’s finished a masterpiece, he waves his little arms proudly as I settle down, placing his snack in front of him.

“You’re all the fun I need,” I say. Jacob smiles as if he understands and reaches for a puff to throw in his mouth.

There’s a knock at the door and I jump up to answer it. I open the door and Marie is standing there holding bags filled with the different props she must plan to use during the lesson.

“Hi,” I say.

She pulls her thin eyebrows together into a frown and shakes her head at me.

I sigh loudly, knowing exactly what she wants. Marie has a thing about speaking English when she’s around, so I guess it’s fair to say I’m being taught French too… against my will.

“Bonjour,” I say, stepping aside to let her in.

Her frown disappears as she nods her approval at me. She walks over to Jacob, talking a mile a minute.

While she’s giving Jacob his lesson, I use the time to fix a snack for myself and figure out what to cook for dinner. I check the fridge for cheese options and decide to whip up a gourmet grilled cheese sandwich. While I’m at it, I take out a few items for dinner.

I’m glad Jacob isn’t a picky eater. Most of the time he happily devours all my homemade baby food blends. Magdalene doesn’t trust store-bought baby food and that’s something we can both agree on. Most of the brands I’ve come across have more preservatives in them than actual food, and that simply won’t do for my Jacob.

Yes, I’d like to have a more active social life, but brainstorming different baby food options, and spending alone time with Jacob is fun to me. Even though his parents seem to prefer going out with their high-society friends, I can’t imagine being away from him. I love watching him grow and learn new things, even if that includes blowing spit bubbles at Marie.