Killian.
The weird thing was, I never wanted to come back home to London—not for family, not for anything. But now? It was all because of a f*****g maid.
A babysitter, my mom called her, hired to watch my little brother so she could dive back into work.
Dad was always buried in his business s**t, and I wasn’t around to help. At first, I didn’t give a damn. Hell, I was against the idea—some stranger in our house, touching our things, getting too close.
But then Mom started rambling about how perfect this babysitter was. Young, maybe a year or two older than me..25 years. My pulse slowed at first, lulling me into listening.
Then she dropped it: “She’s beautiful, Killian. Beautiful in every way—inside and out.”
Fuck.
Those words hit me like a punch to the gut. Beautiful inside out?
