Elena’s POV

Do you know the best thing about freedom? It is the first few minutes, when the air suddenly

feels fresher and the weight lighter.

I laugh at nothing in particular, and Mandy looks at me like I have grown horns. She is standing

in front of her mirror, adjusting her collar. She has been doing that for the past five minutes, and

it is beginning to burn a hole in my eyes.

“Can you please not do that?” I mutter, still with amusement in my tone. Nothing can change

how I feel today. The mere thought of my father storming the whole estate searching for me

makes me so giddy.

“I have a gig with the band,” she sighs, coming to sit beside me.

“I don’t see the problem here. You love singing with them.”

“I know,” she groans. “But that is exactly the problem. I have another interview as a live-in

nanny in a few minutes. I don’t want to disappoint the band, but at the same time, I don’t want to

ignore all the hard work it took to get me that slot for the interview.”

“Hard work?” I repeat, propping my hand underneath my chin.

“Apparently, the father of the young girl is like some hotshot billionaire who lives in Bel Air. I

don’t have a lot of details on him, but I know that he does a real scrutiny on whoever applies to

be his daughter’s nanny. I managed to get past that stage because I was being helped, but

now…”

I sit up immediately, the wheels in my head moving. “Mandy, do you really want to be a

nanny?”

She shakes her head. “I prefer making music with the band, but I don’t want to…”

“Let me go in your stead then,” I say in one breath, already pulling myself off the bed. “Erm…Elena? This isn’t some fancy dinner with high lords and sirs,” Mandy says, regarding

me warily from the bed. “You will have to take care of a child. I really don’t think you can

handle it.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, best friend,” I retort, rolling my eyes. “But I can. If I

could handle my father for twenty-four years, then you should trust me when I say that there is

no hurdle I can’t get through.”

“Your father isn’t some kid, Elena.”

I shrug. “I like babies. And I can teach her to paint. Oh my God!” I place my hands over my

mouth in excitement. “I will be able to paint without my father breathing all over my neck. Can

you imagine that?”

Mandy gives me that look again. “Are you sure, Elena? I mean, you might not get it since there

are like ten other applicants, but it is a live-in position.”

“I have been locked up in that house for years, and told what I can and cannot do,” I murmur.

“Now that I can live the way I want to, I am not going to let anything stop me. I know I can get a

job at some art gallery or something, but think about how easy it will be for my father to find me

there.”

“As a live-in nanny, the chances of him knowing where I live will be reduced. And then, when

he finds you, because he most definitely will, you can tell him you have no idea where I am.”

“I can handle your father,” Mandy sighs. “It is you I am scared for.”

I give her the biggest smile I can manage. The same that has been imprisoned for years. “I’ve got

this, bestie. Trust me.”

In another hour, I am dressed in a pair of my favorite jeans and a black tube top. With a pair of

stiletto heels on my feet, I think I am ready to crush any interview.

But Mandy begs to differ.

“You want to go for an interview as a nanny in that?” she says as I walk out of the bedroom,

joining her by the door. Laughter is on her lips as she gives me a double-take. “I love you, Elena,

but really, I don’t think you should do this.” I shrug. “I am going to charm both father and daughter so that they will beg me to be their

nanny.”

Mandy doesn’t say a word after that, but I can see the doubt in her eyes. Because she is late for

her gig, we take two separate rides. The driver does a double-take when I hand him the address.

“Miss, are you certain this is where you are headed?”

“Yes,” I say in the same chirpy tone I have had all day since I ran away. “Why? Is there

anything wrong?”

“It’s just that no one knows who lives in there,” he murmurs as he places the car in drive and

pulls out of the driveway. “People are not allowed to go in there. I think it belongs to some

popular person who would rather be unknown.”

I don’t think he is right. “There is an interview there today,” I explain, leaving the details out.

“I’m sure you are mistaken.”

He nods and keeps to himself while I go over all the basic introductions in my head. “I can teach

your pretty girl how to paint,” I repeat in my head like a mantra until it becomes part of me.

When the car comes to a halt, I look out the window to see that we are in front of a huge gate

with no building in sight.

“Are we there yet?”

“It is a private driveway, Miss,” the driver explains. “I can’t be in there.”

“What? Am I going to have to walk the whole distance?”

He shrugs. “I tried to warn you.”

Paying him in cash because I have disposed of all my credit cards bearing the Marcelli name, I

climb out of the taxi and make my way to the gates. I am stopped by the security out there,

dressed in black and totally armed.

For the first time this evening, I think my best friend is right.

“ID, please.” “What?”

The bulky man looks down at me. “Can I see some ID?”

“Em…”

A very exotic-looking car pulls up beside me. The windows roll down, and a man sticks his head

out of the driver’s seat.

“Miss. Mandy?”

I turn around.

“Get in.”