The Ice CEO's Contracted Nanny

Emma Anderson

The subway car rattled and jolted, threatening to shake me right out of my own skin. Each lurch made Ellie's head sway against my shoulder, her feverish heat cutting through my thin jacket like a silent accusation.

I brushed my fingers over her forehead every few stations, counting the seconds between the frantic pounding of my heart and the metallic clatter of the rails.

The digital thermometer I'd bought at the corner drugstore last night had read 102.6°F before we left. Now, in the crowded, stuffy train, I could feel the heat radiating from her, a sure sign the number was climbing.

I had no choice. The interview was today.

Knight Corporation was the only place hiring that didn't demand a spotless résumé, years of experience, or an "availability for international travel" I could never provide.

Overnight cleaner.

Midnight to six in the morning.

Minimum wage that would barely cover the back rent, but it was real.

It was money that could buy medicine, a new thermometer, maybe even a clinic visit if I could combine it with my tips from the diner.

Without it, we couldn't eat tomorrow. Without it, Ellie would keep burning silently in that twin bed.

I got off at our station with her in my arms, her small, fever-warm weight anchoring me to the cold platform floor.

The Knight building rose ahead of us, a monster of glass and steel reflecting the city's gray sky in its immaculate windows. Its interior lights glowed even during the day, as if the place never slept.

It was a world that belonged to other people. People who didn't have to choose between medicine and food.

The reception area was vast—polished marble, untouched leather sofas, and a curved desk with a smiling woman behind it. It was a professional, rehearsed smile, but it still managed to thaw a little of the ice in my veins.

"Good afternoon," she greeted me kindly.

"Good afternoon. I'm Emma Anderson."

"Emma Anderson, for the night cleaning position?"

"Yes..." My voice came out low, almost swallowed by the echo of the cavernous lobby. "I'm sorry... I had to bring my sister. She has a high fever. There was no one to stay with her."

The receptionist, whose name tag read "Sarah, " looked at Ellie with a gentle expression.

My sister stirred, her eyes glassy with fever, and shrank further against me, away from the bright lights.

"No problem at all. You can leave her here with me. I'll keep an eye on her," Sarah said, leaning slightly over the desk. "Hey, sweetie. Would you like a little cup of water? And I've got some colored pencils and paper here, if you want to draw while you wait for your sister."

Ellie nodded slowly, too drained to even speak. I settled her carefully into one of the plush armchairs, draping my old coat over her. I kissed her burning forehead, a lump forming in my throat.

"Ellie, stay right here and be quiet, okay? I'm just going in there to talk to someone. I'll be right back. Don't leave this spot. Don't touch anything. Promise me?"

"Promise..." she murmured, her voice as thin as a thread.

Sarah gave me an encouraging nod, and soon a woman appeared: Marina.

She looked to be in her forties, with elegant glasses and a calm voice that carried an air of authority. She led me down a long, silent hallway.

The interview room was small, lit by natural light pouring through a glass wall. Marina sat across from me and opened a folder.

"So, Emma... tell me a little about yourself. Why do you want to work here?"

I took a deep breath, the tightness in my chest forcing the truth out, raw and unfiltered.

"Because I'm desperate. My six-year-old sister has been sick for days. She has a fever that won't break. I don't have money for decent medicine, let alone a proper doctor's visit. If I don't get this job today, tomorrow... tomorrow might be too late. I'll take any shift. I'll do anything. I just need a chance."

Marina watched me for a long moment. Her gaze held no judgment, only a quiet, profound understanding.

"The position is demanding, Emma. Night shift, heavy cleaning, and you'll be alone most of the time. Do you have anyone to care for your sister during those hours?"

"I... I'll manage. I always manage," I lied. It was what I had to say to survive.

There was a beat of silence, then a faint smile touched her lips.

"The position is yours. You start Monday. We'll go up to HR to finalize the paperwork."

Relief crashed over me, so strong it was almost a physical blow. My eyes burned, but I held back the tears. Not here. Not now.

We went back to the reception area. Ellie was still in the armchair, scribbling slowly on a piece of paper. Sarah smiled at me.

"She was a little angel. She didn't move an inch."

"Thank you so much," I replied, a genuinely grateful smile spreading across my face as the first weight of the day lifted from my shoulders.

We took the elevator to the eighth floor. HR was more formal—sterile white walls, the scent of strong coffee and fresh paper. The receptionist there was another story: a woman with a closed-off face and a sharp voice that seemed designed to push people away.

"Children aren't allowed to wander the halls," she warned before I could even open my mouth.

I knelt in front of Ellie, taking her hot little hands in mine.

"Princess, sit right here for me. I need you to do the same thing you did downstairs with Sarah, okay? Don't leave this spot. Don't touch anything. Don't talk to anyone. I'm just going in there to sign some papers. I'll be back in ten minutes, okay? Promise me again?"

She nodded, her eyes red-rimmed from fever and exhaustion.

"Okay, Emmy..."

I went in. I signed papers. I answered more bureaucratic questions. My heart was pounding so loudly I could barely register the HR woman's words. All I could think about was the armchair in the hall.

I was out in less than fifteen minutes. And the hallway was empty.

The armchair was empty.

My old coat was tossed on the floor.

No sign of her.

"Where's my sister?" My voice came out too loud, echoing off the white walls.

The receptionist glanced up from her monitor, her expression one of pure annoyance.

"I'm not a babysitter." She stood and walked away. "I'm not paid to run after a child."

Ice-cold panic sliced through me. I broke into a run, my blood pounding in my temples.

I spotted a woman in a cleaning uniform down the hall and asked, "Did you see a little girl?"

"I saw a child head for the stairwell, but I couldn't tell if she went up or down, " she answered.

Stairs.

I flew up the staircase, taking the steps two at a time, the air burning in my lungs.

I burst onto the ninth floor. There was a small commotion in the hallway. A few people were standing around, staring toward the elevators, their muffled voices a dizzying hum.

"Has anyone seen a little girl? Six years old, light brown hair, in a pink hoodie? Please..."

A young woman shook her head, her eyes full of pity.

"I didn't see anyone, honey..."

The elevator chimed. The doors slid open with agonizing slowness. And there she was.

Marina stepped out, holding Ellie's small hand. My sister was walking, weak but steady, her eyes swollen from crying.

"Ellie!" I cried, rushing to her and dropping to my knees.

"She just went to the bathroom," Marina explained, her calm voice anchoring me. "I found her on the seventh floor, lost and crying. The cleaning lady said she saw you come up here, so I brought her back to you."

I pulled Ellie into a hug, so tight I could feel her fragile bones against my chest, the heat of her fever mingling with the tremors of my own relief.

"I'm so sorry, baby... forgive me... I'll never leave you alone again..."

Ellie wrapped her little arms around my neck, sobbing quietly.

"I was scared, Emmy... I thought you left me..."

"Never. I will never leave you. I promise."

I stood slowly, holding her hand with a grip that was almost possessive. I just wanted to get out of that building.

"Let's go home."

I took a step toward the elevator. Then I felt it.

Two small arms wrapped around my legs from behind. A small body clung to me with desperate strength, as if it would never let go.

I froze. The air caught in my lungs.

I turned slowly, my heart hammering against my ribs. Big green eyes, brimming with tears. Messy blond hair. The same round little face I had pulled from the flames two years ago.

Luca.

He looked at me as if he had waited his entire life for this exact second. A single tear slipped down his cheek.

My voice came out in a hoarse, broken, nearly inaudible whisper. "You..."

I knelt to his level, and he hugged me with the same fierce urgency as he had that day on the pavement. We were there, locked in that impossible embrace, when a deep, furious voice sliced through the air.

"Who are you? And how do you know my son?"

I looked up.

A blond man stood there, his eyes the blue of a gathering storm, his expression that of a man deciding my fate.

The hallway disappeared.

The entire building disappeared.

And for a second, the world stopped turning.