5

Chapter 5 – Adrian’s POV

I won’t lie, Mr. Darcy Rodrigo was the kind of man who could make every head turn the moment he entered a room. Tall, commanding, and dangerously handsome, he was exactly the type that made women lose their breath.

But I don't care; love and attraction are useless to me. That was the reason why I was jailed, and my so-called boyfriend, Martins, the man I loved and cared for for three years, abandoned me to die. I even got married to my cousin Amelia; this was so disheartening.

I also had to remind myself firmly that I wasn't here for the looks.

I wasn’t like the other ladies who were dying about the way he looks; the way they all pretended and pouted as if this was a catwalk beauty pageant made me nauseous instantly. I wasn’t here to catch a rich husband or chase his money. I was here because I had no choice.

This job wasn’t about luxury. It was survival.

And if I didn’t get this job, I’d have nowhere else to go. Homeless. And worse was that the police might come after me again.

I knew how parole worked. They were watching me somewhere. That was why they didn't install an ankle alarm on me, and the only reason they did that was because I was good and I didn't cause them any trouble while in jail.

So yes, this job was everything. My only chance to stay free.

That prison reminded me of everything I fought so hard to forget. My dead child, so I don't want to go back. So I had to work for myself to give myself a good life.

Then I saw her.

Something strange happened when I saw his little girl. There was something about his daughter’s presence that stayed with me. I couldn't understand, but I felt deeply connected to her.

Mr. Darcy himself looked just like people described him. Cold. Powerful. Unreadable.

His face was calm but cold. He's just like a man who wouldn't raise a voice to control everything.

But I felt like I had met him before, but I didn't remember where exactly, and it made me uncomfortable.

Then beside him was the man who’d taken our names earlier. He wore a fitted black suit. Neat.

He stepped forward. With his strong face, I guessed he was Darcy’s assistant.

“Good afternoon, sir. These are the final applicants for Pink's nanny position,” he said politely.

That’s when I learned her name—Pink. So that's her name, I thought. It's a sweet name for a serious-looking little girl sitting pretty on her father’s shoulder.

Darcy nodded slightly; his cold eyes were still on me, and it felt like forever, making my anxiety worse.

Before anyone else could speak, the first woman in line jumped out of her line.

“I have three PhDs,” she announced proudly. “Psychology, Education, and Business. I can take care of Pink… and of you.”

When she was done mentioning all the certificates she'd acquired in life, she moved close to Darcy, acting like she was adjusting her blouse to show more of her chest.

Shameless. What is she thinking? Seducing Darcy to help her get the nanny job?

Was this really how they thought they could become a child’s nanny? by seducing her father like cheap mistresses? Yuck!

Darcy didn’t react. His face didn’t even twitch. He just looked away, unimpressed.

Then came the second woman. She smiled confidently, applying a quick layer of lip gloss before speaking.

“Childcare runs in my family. My mother was the nanny for the president’s children,” she bragged, biting her lip.

Darcy stayed silent, but little Pink clung to his shoulder and shook her head hard. Her lips pouted, her face full of stubbornness—she clearly didn’t like the woman.

Looking at everything, I got worried. If it was this child that was picking who would be her nanny, then I had no chance at all.

I compared myself to these rich women who were well-dressed and found out I was nobody. Just an ex-convict in a plain dress with nothing but a wrinkled certificate in hand.

Still, I couldn’t stay silent. Let me try.

Then, it's my turn. They were in front of me. It suddenly feels so hot here regardless of the massive air conditioners giving cold air in the office. My palms were sweaty. My throat was dry, but I had the courage to look Mr. Darcy in his eyes.

I began, "I don’t have fancy degrees,” I said, my voice shaking but steady with time. “But I cared for many children all my life. I worked in a small daycare where we handled many children and even took care of my younger cousins.”

His face didn’t even soften a bit.

But I continued, pushing through the nerves. “I know how to take care of children's tantrums, comfort them, and read bedtime stories, scraped knees—all of it. I don’t have many qualifications or certificates, but I can promise you that your daughter will be safe and loved in my hands.”

Then I looked at Pink. Her big eyes met mine, and I felt that pull again; everything around me went quiet. It felt like she could see something inside me—something familiar.

“I need this job, sir,” I said softly. “Please. I love kids, and I’ll take care of her very well.”

Behind me, the women snickered.

“She’s so desperate.”

“Does she think tears will help?”

I ignored them. Pride didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that little girl.

That was when Mr. Darcy finally spoke with his voice deep and firm, the kind that made everyone fall silent.

“Thank you all for applying,” he said slowly. “But this decision is not mine to make.”

We all froze.

He adjusted Pink in his arms, his tone softening a little. “The only rule is simple: that Pink will choose who she wants as her nanny.”

The room filled with shocked murmurs. My heart started pounding. A three-year-old was about to decide our fate.

Darcy turned to his daughter. “Pink,” he said gently, “are you ready to choose the person you want?”

Pink nodded eagerly, holding his shoulder tightly.

He carried her to the first woman. The woman smiled sweetly, bringing out her arms to carry her. But Pink frowned and shook her head hard in disagreement.

Rejected.

The second woman tried next—same result. Pink’s pout deepened, her little face full of disapproval.

One by one, she rejected every single woman in the room. Gasps spread through the hall. If all these women were rejected, it's not possible to accept me.

Then Darcy stopped in front of me. I was scared. Nervous. My heartbeat got loud, and I could hear it in my ears, or maybe he could as well.

I could barely breathe.

Everyone in that room didn't believe that Pink rejected and dismissed all the classy, wealthy, and well-dressed women one by one, even those ones that shamelessly tried to seduce her father just to get in the position of being her nanny.

Then it was my turn.

Sweat moved down my back and my forehead. My breath caught in my throat in anxiety.

I already knew. Of course no one needs to remind me that if these women couldn’t win her heart, how could I?

Pink looked at me for a long time. Her eyes locked on me. And then, to my surprise, she gave out a sweet smile at me.

I never knew she could smile like that. Her smile was pretty and sweet. I smiled back at her at once. It warmed my soul, and I was no longer anxious or afraid.

Darcy’s eyes shifted between us. “What about her, Pink?” he asked quietly. “Do you want her to...”

Before he could finish, Pink nodded eagerly and reached her little hands out to me.

The room went silent for a while. Everyone in that office, the women especially, opened their eyes in shock as she picked someone who wore cheap clothes and didn’t put on expensive perfumes and jewelry.

I froze, looking at her in disbelief as she opened her arms to me—trusting, calm, like a child reaching for her mother.

She chose me.

I blinked my eyes twice, still shocked, and couldn't believe her reaction.

I carried her on my arm, so happy she allowed it. My mind raced on so many thoughts about why she chose me of all the people standing here. Why did she reach out for me to carry her?

All I knew was there was a connection.

But...

Wait... did she seriously do that!?