CHAPTER ONE

Kira

I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Those towering pinnacles and jutting peaks can’t be the house I’m supposed to work in for the next seven months. There must be some mistake. I’ve seen big houses in my job, but never anything like this.

I always come to work early the first day, but it took a lot longer than I expected getting up the immense driveway. A huge park surrounds the house. Gardeners ride around the grounds on their zippy lawnmowers. Still others trim the hedges and rose bushes. I can almost believe I’m in the Botanical Gardens or something instead of on someone’s private property. This Isaac Gibbs must be loaded, whoever he is. I only hope my job works out.

I head up the sweeping steps to the front door, but when I raise my hand to knock, I hear a loud voice booming inside. “Forget it! You’re not pulling this again. I said no! Over my dead body, so don’t even think about it.”

I hold my breath to listen. The pauses between outbursts tell me the guy is talking on the phone. “How many times do I have to tell you? Just drop it. It’s not gonna happen, but then again, I could talk till the cows come home and never penetrate your idiot brain.”

My hand falls to my side. I don’t want to interrupt, and I don’t want whoever it is to turn that anger on me. I only hope to high heaven this isn’t Isaac Gibbs.

“You piece of rat bait! How dare you? Do you think you can screw me over like you’ve done so many times before? I’ll destroy you if you even think of trying something like that.”

My heart thunders in my chest. I don’t want to have anything to do with someone who talks to other people like that. Maybe I should beat it. He never has to know I was here. I’ll tell the service I don’t feel safe working here. They’ll assign me to a nice old lady with a brainiac niece. Now that’s the kind of job I can get on board with.

I listen just a little longer. “I’ll stick you to the wall for this if you try to screw with me. I’ve done it before, but you just never learn, do you? I’m hanging up now. I don’t have time to waste on you, so go bother someone else and don’t pester me again with your crap unless you want another lawsuit up your backside.”

A crash follows, along with muttered swearing. Now I know for sure I don’t want to work in any nut house like this. I’m just about to turn around and walk away when the door yanks open in front of me. A sturdy man with jet black hair sticks his head out and yells in my face. “Where have you been?”

I start back in surprise. “I…I’m Kira Malone. I’m the new nanny. The service sent me over.”

He sticks his meaty arm through the door, grabs me by the wrist, and tows me into the house. “I know that! Now get upstairs and get to work. I’m already late thanks to you.”

I tear my arm out of his paw. “Get your hands off me. I’m ten minutes early. I wasn’t even supposed to be here until nine o’clock, and you don’t even have the decency to introduce yourself.”

“I don’t care what time you were supposed to be here,” he fires back. “You work for me, don’t you? You’re here to take care of my daughter so I can work, not to shoot your mouth off at me. Now get upstairs if you know what’s good for you.”

“I don’t have to put up with that kind of abuse,” I tell him. “I’m doing you a favor, and if I walk out that door, you won’t be going to work at all.”

He throws up his hands and whirls away. “I have enough to worry about without standing around arguing with the help. If you’re not going to do the job the service sent you to do, then get out of my house.”

I straighten up and look him up and down. He would be handsome if he wasn’t such a jerk. His broad shoulders fill out a nice white business shirt. Crisp charcoal grey slacks hug his shapely legs, and his dark eyes sparkle. “I came here to do a job, and as long as I don’t have to put up with the likes of you, I’ll do it. Just tell me where to go and get out of my face.”

He points to a curving staircase rising from the main entrance hall to the upper landing. “You can find it yourself, and from now on, be on time. I can’t stand lateness.”

He spins on his heel and storms out the front door. I’m shaking all over, but I take a few deep breaths before I gather my resolve to make a move. Do I really want to go through with this? It would be so easy to turn tail and run for the hills. I could get another job, or I could get no job and just take it easy.

No, I never turned away from a job before, and I won’t start now. I’m alone in this giant house with some kid who’s got no adult supervision for the day. I have to at least find out what’s going on before I walk away.

I park my suitcase by the front door where I can grab it if I need to run away. Only then do I get my first look at the house.

The main entrance hall goes off in several directions. Two enormous staircases swoop up to the second level. Bouncy music tinkles down the stairs. It doesn’t fit right with the carved plaster ceilings and the gold-plated bannisters.

I do a quick search of the downstairs. Dining room, library, ballroom—all the usual stuff you find in a mansion like this one. The place is so clean I don’t want to touch anything. Marble statues decorate the Edwardian side tables, and sky lights let the sun stream into the house. It’s not the sort of place you think a kid would want to grow up. Rich people’s houses never are.

More servants run around all over the place. Maids come and go with their dusters and piles of clean white laundry. The butler appears in a tuxedo. He bows, but doesn’t say anything to me. I guess I’m on my own, so I’ve got nothing to do but go upstairs and find this kid.

I feel sorry for the poor thing with a dad like that. I don’t know anything about her except her name is Ivy, and she’s ten years old. Whoever she is, she’s all alone in this enormous house with that jackass for a father, so she must be alone and probably traumatized. Not exactly my dream job, but hey, that’s par for the course, right?

The house just keeps going and going and going with no end in sight. If I didn’t have that music to follow, I would have given up a long time ago. I head up the stairs and down the landing. Dozens of rooms come off the main passage, and I peek through the open doors.

Every room has a huge bed, most of them four-poster canopy beds surrounded by velvet curtains. Paintings and tapestries cover the walls. Gorgeous, but uncomfortable. Most rich kids never go near this part of their houses. They stick to their nurseries and their own rooms.

The music gets louder, but I still don’t see any sign of a place for kids. I get all the way to the far end of the landing where it ends at a high bay window overlooking the grounds. I can’t see a speck of the city beyond. I could be a thousand miles from the nearest street.

I turn around to walk back the other way when I hear the music die. I cock my head to listen, and a moment later it starts up again. This time, though, it’s not Pink. It’s Brahms. I never expected to hear that playing around here. Now I’m really intrigued. If I only stay one day in this house, I have to at least find this kid.

The music comes from a door right next to me, a closed door. I put my ear to it, but the music comes from farther away than a bedroom off the main passage. I take hold of the doorknob and turn it.

The door opens on a large room, just as large as the other bedrooms. This one is definitely a kid’s room, though. It’s painted eggshell pink with colored balloons all over the walls. Flowing white curtains breeze back from the open window, and a girl’s bed sits against the far wall. A gauze mosquito net curtains it off from the rest of the room.

Books and toys line the shelves, but I don’t see any kid. I step into the room. No ten year old girl could ask for a nicer room. So where is she?

The music rises to a higher strain, and I trace the sound to another door across the room. I press my ear to that door, too. Yes, the music is definitely coming from inside. I take hold of the knob and turn.

I gasp out loud at what I see inside. The door opens on a closet full of clothes. Shoes, bags, and belts litter the floor. Tucked way back in the corner under a huge pile of dirty laundry sits a little girl. She’s much smaller than your average ten year old.

The Brahms comes out of an mp3 player at her feet while she saws away on a violin in time to the delightful strains coming from the speakers. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I stare down at her with my mouth open.

The moment I open the closet door, she stops playing and lifts her head. She switches off the music and gazes up at me. “You must be the new nanny. My dad said you would come this morning.”

I shut my mouth with a click. “I’m Kira. You must be Ivy.”

She blinks the hair out of her eyes. “Yeah, I am.”

“What are you doing in here? Why don’t you play out in your room?”

“I like it better in here. It reflects the sound and sounds better. Besides, I don’t have to worry about my dad hearing me.”

“What’s wrong with your dad hearing you? Doesn’t he like you playing music?”

“Oh, he loves it. He always wants to sit there and listen to me play. Sometimes I just want to practice by myself, you know?”

I can’t help but smile. “Yeah, I know what you mean. So do you want me to shut the door so you can keep practicing?”

She gives me a bright smile. “That’s okay. Now that you’re here, I’d rather talk to you.”

I stand back while she climbs out of the closet. She puts her player and her instrument away and comes to stand in front of me. She looks me all over. “You’re a lot younger than I expected you to be. Most of the nannies Dad gets in are old.”

I blush. “Thanks.”

“Have you worked with a lot of kids?”

I bite back a laugh. Here’s my ten year old employer interviewing me. “Yes, I have worked with a lot. I haven’t worked for anybody like your dad before, though.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll bet you haven’t.”