Jeon Jungkook's POV

"My philosophy is that kids are best when they're not seen. Or heard."

Sarah — or whatever the hell her real name was — purred the words like she was auditioning for a drama where the nanny fucks the boss on his desk. Heavy eyeliner, red lips, the skirt doing more lifting than it should have. She tilted her head at me, eyes dragging up and down like she already owned me.

"Don't you agree, sir?"

I arched a brow, grateful for the solid slab of walnut between us. My desk had seen some shit. But not this kind.

"No," I said flatly. "I don't agree at all. What are your qualifications?"

She waved a perfectly manicured hand in the air like I'd asked her to pass the kimchi. "Oh, I've got a kid around the same age. I just tell her to go to her room when mommy wants to have fun. It works best for everyone."

My jaw flexed. Was this chick serious?

"I'm in need of childcare," I said coldly. "Nothing else."

Sarah leaned forward, elbows on her knees, cleavage pushed to high hell. "Sometimes men don't know what they need. Sometimes..." Her lips curved. "They need a little push in the right direction."

I exhaled through my nose. "Look, Sarah. I only need someone to care for my niece. Nothing else. Is that something you're even remotely interested in?"

She leaned back like she was still in control, legs slowly crossing like she was about to unwrap a surprise. "Yeah, sure."

That wasn't an answer. That was a trap.

"Layla," I called, raising my voice slightly toward the door. "Can you come in here for a second?"

It went against every instinct I had to involve her in this circus act, but I needed to be thorough. Layla deserved that.

She walked in — hair in a messy bun, oversized hoodie tucked into her jeans, glasses sliding down her nose — and all I could see was my sister. Strong-willed. Sharp-eyed. Already ten steps ahead of most adults.

"What's up, samchon?" she asked, arms swinging by her sides as she glanced at the woman across from me.

"This is Sarah. She's... interviewing to be your new nanny."

Layla gave her a slow, surgical look. The kind that took her in, stripped her down, and filed the judgment before Sarah even opened her mouth.

"Is she qualified?"

Sarah gave her a thin, obviously forced smile. "Of course I'm qualified, Lola. Why else would I be here?"

Layla's brows shot up like knives. "My name's not Lola," she snorted, and then looked at me with all the patience of a teenager dealing with a parent who didn't know how to work Wi-Fi. "No. Not her. Anyone but her."

She turned on her heel and walked out.

I didn't bother hiding my smirk. "This isn't going to be a good fit."

The woman across from me narrowed her eyes. She didn't care about Layla. I doubted she even remembered her name. She was here for the paycheck... and the man signing it.

"Thank you for your time," I said evenly.

But instead of standing and leaving like a normal person, she stood up, kneeled on my damn desk, and started crawling across it like we were in the middle of a bad adult drama scene.

"It's probably for the best," she purred, lips practically brushing the air between us. "Mixing business with pleasure never ends well."

My eyes widened in disbelief. Was this real life?

I took a few steps back. "You don't understand."

"Oh, I understand," she said with a wink. "You're just playing hard to get."

"No." I shook my head. "Even if I were into playing games — which I'm not — this wouldn't be one of them."

"I can be patient," she whispered.

I bolted around the desk, grabbing the front door with one hand and gesturing with the other. "No. You need to leave."

She paused, frowning like it was the first time someone hadn't fallen for her script. "You're serious?"

"As a heart attack."

I opened the door. "Thank you for your time, Sarah."

She stomped past me in expensive heels, throwing one last parting shot over her shoulder. "Your loss."

I shut the door with a heavy sigh. At this rate, I'd never finish the damn game. All I wanted was a few hours — okay, maybe forty — of uninterrupted work to debug the AI in chapter five and fine-tune the recoil system.

"It can't be this hard to find someone to watch my kid," I muttered, walking back toward my office and rifling through a pile of old business cards until I found the one I rarely used.

Back when I was still doing freelance game design for that giant company in Busan, I'd met a guy who knew everyone.

I hit the contact.

"Yah! Jeon Jungkook, is that you?" Min Yoongi's deep voice blasted through the speaker. "Shit, man. I thought you were dead!"

I snorted. "Why the hell would I be dead?"
"Because I invited you to my wedding. To my kid's birthday party. Even a fucking coed baby shower. And you didn't even say fuck off, that's why."

I frowned and looked at the floor like it had answers. "There have been some, ah, developments in my life that required... adjustments. Which is actually why I'm calling."

Yoongi was silent for a beat. Then: "I'm listening."

I gave him the quick rundown. My sister's passing. Layla becoming my whole world overnight. My game studio running on fumes because I couldn't get three uninterrupted hours without being asked if broccoli counts as dessert.

"I read somewhere you fell in love with your nanny," I said. "I'm hoping you can recommend one for me."

"To fall in love with?"

I rolled my eyes so hard it gave me a headache. "Funny."

"You should laugh more. It makes you less of a dick." He sighed dramatically, like this entire conversation was my fault. "Fine. Elite Nanny Service. Talk to Serenity Woods. She'll know what to do."

I scribbled the number down on a sticky note already covered in Layla's doodles. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet. I'm planning Sasha's anniversary party next month, and I will see your grumpy ass there."

"I'll try."

"No. You'll come. Or I'm sending Jimin to drag you out by your hair."

He hung up.

I stared at the phone until the screen faded to black. Yoongi had always been too dramatic for his own good, which is why we rarely hung out. Still, he came through when it counted, and for that I owed him... maybe half an appearance at that party. Maybe.

I dialed the number on the post-it.

"Elite Nanny Service, this is Serenity. How may I help you?"

Her voice was smooth, the kind of calm that made you feel like you were in trouble even if you hadn't done anything yet.

"Oh, thank God. Ms. Woods, I was given your number by a friend, Min Yoongi, and I'm in desperate need of a nanny. As soon as you can send one over."

There was a pause — not awkward, just intentional. Like she was studying me through the line.

"That can be arranged," she said slowly.

"Oh, thank you. That's exactly what I needed to hear."

"But first, I need you to come to my office for a proper interview."

My shoulders sank like I'd just taken a bullet.

"Seriously?" I groaned. "Can't you just send me a qualified nanny?"

"To a man I've never met, haven't vetted, and know nothing about? Absolutely not." Her tone was calm, patient, like she dealt with idiots professionally. "It doesn't work that way, mister...?"

"Fine," I sighed. "I'll be there within the hour. Is that soon enough?"

"Yes," she said, and I could hear the smirk in her voice. "That works perfectly for me. See you then, Mister...?"

"Seo Jungkook," I growled. "Call me Jungkook."

"I'll be waiting," she said, then ended the call before I could say anything else.

Great.

As if I didn't already have a mountain of shit on my plate, now I had to leave the house.

And worse — I had to interact with people.

At least one.

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A/n: You must be wondering why Jungkook lied about his surname. Stay tuned for further chapters... Please drop comments!