A Very Merry Nanny (Very Merry #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

EMMA

“ T hat tickles.” I giggle as Asher Banks playfully kisses along my neck and jaw.

He knows my rules—the ones I established two years ago after a disastrous breakup that changed my outlook on love. For me, flirting is as far as it goes.

No one pays us any mind as we slip into the shadows at my best friend's party. Billie told me Asher wasn't invited, but here he is, looking like a snack and smelling like a bad decision.

His broad shoulders and thick brown hair shield my expression from the prying eyes of the guests.

“You're so damn pretty, Em, and still a pro at playing hard to get,” he whispers, his voice gravelly, capturing my full attention.

Hooking up with him would be fun—I'd definitely enjoy it—but it would come with a world of regrets.

“You're a flirt,” I reply, but it's deeper than that. Asher wants something I'll never give him—my heart.

He deserves someone who can commit and love him in ways I can't. This gorgeous man needs a devoted partner who can bear him an heir to inherit the family's riches. That’s not me.

“Don't let my date see you,” I warn as he twirls a lock of my dark red hair between his fingers.

Everyone knows I’m not attending this party alone; the world learned that when the paparazzi with their long zoom lenses chased me around New York and snapped pictures of me with my date.

Tonight's headlines read:

It’s official! Emma Manchester has a different man every month.

It only took a couple of hours for me to be labeled a billionaire whore who pumps and dumps men. I love that for me—especially since I haven't been intimate with anyone since my ex. It’s all just ridiculous rumors.

“So tell me, Em. Did you give the poor bastard your rules?” His tone holds playful amusement.

“Every man I date gets the rundown. Yes, even your brother .”

Honesty is key, and I won’t pretend when it comes to love or dating. I physically can’t; it makes me sick.

Asher crosses his arms over his broad chest, studying me intently. “It's been months, and I’ve still got it bad for you.”

“All fuck boys say that about the pretty things they can't have.” I meet his gaze, confident he's just playing games.

I could have him if I wanted, even for a night. To be clear, I don’t. That’s why I ended it over the summer.

“I don't think I can handle you being with him,” he admits.

I try to ease his jealousy. “I'm not into your brother. We're friends, just like us.”

He lets out a relieved breath. “And he was made aware?”

The two of them are highly competitive.

“Yes,” I confirm. “Before we arrived.”

“Ah. Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for, Emma. You can always change your mind about me.” He smirks.

“I don’t do second chances, Ash.”

“Rule number three. I haven't forgotten, but I also know there are exceptions to every rule.”

As the string quartet in the corner of the penthouse shifts to a more upbeat song, the atmosphere in the room transforms.

Silence hangs heavily between us, and I know I need to walk away before I do something I might regret. “I should go.”

“Maybe you should stay.”

“Ash.”

I'm convinced that the blue-eyed billionaires have placed bets on who can win me over like a trophy. Many have tried, but they all face the same fate: being dumped by me.

Billie believes I'm their karma—the one who always gets away—having broken so many hearts without a hint of remorse. Strangely, my reputation hasn't deterred anyone; if anything, it seems to have encouraged them. I’ve become a challenge.

Asher tilts my chin upward. “I’d settle down for you, Em.”

He wears the same expression he had the night I told him it was over. He was falling too hard, and I... wasn't.

“Save it for someone who can reciprocate.”

“Having part of you is enough,” he mutters.

“No.” I shake my head. “You deserve better.”

“You think better than you exists?”

“I believe there’s someone better for you than me.”

“Ah. That’s where you're wrong.”

“Didn't your parents teach you not to play with broken toys? Someone always gets hurt, even if you're careful. It's the sharp edges you don't see, Ash.” I force a smile as I look into his honey-colored eyes. “It was great seeing you again.”

“Em,” he says, pulling me back to him. “I want you to be happy.”

“Me too,” I murmur, seeing straight through him.

Everything about Asher fits my type—tall, handsome, intelligent, a bit of an asshole—but there's no spark. Not even a flicker.

After our first kiss, I felt nothing. I thought I would.

Ash had rented an art exhibit for us to privately enjoy the sculptures of one of my favorite artists. We strolled through the rooms, appreciating the playful works with their pop culture references. The lights were low, the mood was right, and the wine was flowing. The night was both romantic and thought-provoking.

Before we left, Ash pressed his perfect lips against mine in the foyer. When we pulled away, he asked if I had felt it. By the look on his face, I could tell he had.

I didn’t. That was the moment I realized I might be broken and may never experience butterflies again.

“I'm really sorry,” I say, recalling how I hurt him. I can never apologize enough.

“Stop apologizing,” he responds gently. “You made me realize what I was missing.”

As I take in his physique, noticing the outline in his jeans, I briefly contemplate the idea of a fling. The white button-up clings to his chiseled body. “Stop testing me,” I warn. “Rule number 3.”

“Busted, I suppose. Guess your rules are unbreakable.”

His words make me chuckle. These players always think they can fool me, but I block their advances at every turn.

“Tempting as ever, Ash. One day, you'll thank me.”

Our eyes meet, and we share a silent conversation before he grins. “Emma fucking Manchester. Always a pleasure,” he says, wrapping his arm around me and giving me a gentle squeeze.

“Put some respect on my name.”

“Always,” he replies, and I break away from him. “Still a firecracker.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Still a flirty bastard.”

I make my way to the golden-glowing champagne fountain at the center of the room and pour myself two glasses—both for me.

Billie's parties never disappoint, and the hors d'oeuvres are divine. A celebrity chef has prepared mini beef Wellingtons, truffle risotto arancini, and oysters on the half shell. Expensive alcohol flows like a river as the string quartet transitions to a Taylor Swift song.

I catch Ash's gaze and playfully roll my eyes as he winks at me.

Just as I turn the corner, I nearly collide with Billie. Her jet-black hair is pulled back, and her blue eyes sparkle, framed by a smile from her vibrant red lips.

“I've been searching for you all night,” I tell her.

“Here I am. Also, I didn’t know you were still playing games with the Banks brothers.”

My best friend has a magnetic, black cat energy and only tolerates a select few humans. I'm fortunate to be one of her closest confidants. She trusts fewer than five people on the planet.

“That’s only because your brothers wouldn’t give me the time of day,” I retort.

Easton and Weston are as sexy as sin, but they’re also nine years older than me. They’ve adopted me as their youngest sister and friend-zoned me long ago.

She sips from her crystal glass, the contents a light brown liquid. “The question still stands—when will Emma Manchester stop being a maneater?”

“Soon, I hope, but I've accepted that this might be my reality. Maybe I’ll be single forever.”

“You and me both.”

“It’s exhausting. I just want to feel something. Anything.” I sigh. “I'm convinced I'm broken,” I whisper.

“Nah. I think you're just bored. You have a buffet of men to choose from in the city; it's too easy for you. Monotony has always been your enemy, Emma. Think about it—you need a man who doesn’t want you more than you want him. When have you ever had that?”

Never.

“Sometimes I hate how well you know me.” I down one of my glasses. A server takes it from me as I sip from the other. “Almond champagne from Italy?” I ask.

“I had it flown in for us because it's our favorite.”

“Billie!” a high-pitched voice calls, and I turn to see Harper Alexander approaching. “And Emma!”

She wraps me in a tight hug. I haven’t seen her in months.

“What are we discussing?” she asks, glancing between us.

“Champagne,” I reply, eager to divert the conversation from my relationship failures.

“We were talking about Emma's love life,” Billie interjects, refusing to change the subject.

I groan. “The lack of.”

“It's like nothing has changed in twenty years,” Harper laughs. “But Christmas is coming. Maybe you'll find love under the mistletoe.”

I nearly choke on my champagne. “It would take a miracle.”

She laughs, playfully bumping against me. Once I regain my breath, I follow Billie’s gaze to Asher.

“I thought you weren’t inviting him,” I say.

“I didn’t,” she replies, glaring at Harper.

“It was me,” Harper singsongs. “Asher's an asset.”

“Asher's an ass,” Billie retorts.

I clear my throat. “You two would be perfect together. You're compatible. Plus, you can't stop eye-fucking him.”

“Give me a break,” Billie scoffs.

“You're doing it right now,” Harper points out.

Billie's brows crease, and I speak before she can deny it.

“I've missed you both. A lot. Is there anything I should be updated on?”

“Other than our siblings finding love?” Harper shakes her head. “No.”

“I love that for them,” Billie replies.

This summer, I traveled nonstop and returned to the city last week, but I'm already ready to leave again. It's like I can't sit still; I can't settle down.

“Can we take a picture?” I ask, sliding my phone out of the handbag that once belonged to Marilyn Monroe. I couldn't resist carrying it, even if the internet is outraged by my perceived disrespect.

I stand between Harper and Billie, holding my phone upright but struggling to find the right angle.

Harper offers to help.

“Smile pretty,” she says, pressing the button and capturing several shots of us in slightly different poses. I quickly scroll through the photos and find one where my eyes are closed and I'm making kissy lips. They're making silly faces, too.

“This is my favorite one,” I announce.

“If you post that, people might think I'm fun,” Billie mutters before laughing. The world has labeled her the serious one who never smiles.

I have thousands of pictures from over the years to prove them wrong, but she leans into the 'bad bitch' rumors, and it has become part of her personality. Harper and I know the truth, though.

I finish my second glass of champagne while scanning the room, recognizing so many familiar faces and old friends.

“If we were characters in Sex he's in love with her,” I whisper, seeing it so clearly.

Billie smiles. “He looks happy.”

“I'm jealous,” I admit reluctantly. “Everyone seems to be finding love but me.”

“I knew this would happen,” Harper says.

Our eyes meet. “Of course you did.”

Recently, she predicted her brother's entire relationship, down to where he’d marry his wife.

At the time, he was single and angry at the world. She has also predicted a few of our other friends' engagements. Unfortunately, I’ve never sparked her Spidey senses, and she’s never given me a cupid love reading.

Billie, on the other hand, has had several.

I reach for her hand, and she takes it. “Sense anything this time?”

“You're complicated. I don't feel any energy.”

“Sounds like a premonition for my entire love life.” I laugh because if I don't, I'll end up crying.

She lets go. “I'm sorry.”

“It's me, not you,” I jokingly say as my phone buzzes.

I glance down and see it's my sister, Claire. She's four years older than me, and while I consider us very close, I haven’t spoken to her in almost two weeks and haven't seen her in months.

“Why did you make that face?” Harper asks. She’s too perceptive.

“Nothing.”

“Thinking about Hudson?” Billie asks, respecting my boundaries as I respected hers about Ash.

I met Hudson Jolly the day his brother proposed to my sister. The chemistry we shared sometimes haunts me.

“Who?” I ask, but she knows better.

Hudson is the kind of man who breaks hearts for a living. Flawlessly handsome with dark brown hair and striking green eyes, his scowl brings me to my knees. He's broody and even more unavailable than I am.

I considered staying in Texas to make him my special project in July, but I ultimately decided to leave.

Billie clears her throat, and I notice both she and Harper are staring at me.

“Huh?” I glance between them.

“You were thinking about that guy,” Billie states.

“That's ridiculous. We met once and exchanged a few words. Nothing more.” My phone continues to ring. “I have to take this. She’ll fly into the city and kick my ass if I ignore her again.”

“Good luck,” Billie says.

“The patio is quieter,” Harper suggests, pointing toward the sliding doors. I quickly slip outside and answer. “Claire. Hi!”

“Well?” she asks expectantly.

“Well, what?” The booze has kicked in. Great.

“What time will you be here tomorrow? You never replied to my texts.”

I let out a nervous laugh.

She gasps. “You forgot about my Halloween party, didn’t you?”

I force a smile. She has an uncanny knack for knowing, regardless of the distance or how we communicate. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

“And you have a costume?”

“I have a closet full. See you tomorrow around eight, right?”

“Okay.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “I’ve missed you, Em.”

“Missed you too! How’s Jake?”

Jake, or JJ, is the wonderful man who proposed to my sister. He loves her deeply, and their relationship makes me want to believe in love. Sometimes, I envy what she found on that desolate country road in the middle of nowhere.

I glance at the New York skyline, watching the city lights twinkle like stars until my vision blurs.

“He’s great. Happy. Super busy because tree season kicks off on Monday. I can't wait for you to see his costume. Oh, by the way, Hudson is coming,” she adds casually.

“And?”

“Nothing. Just a passing thought.”

I clear my throat, remembering the connection we shared the first time our eyes met. “He’s emotionally unavailable. I’m not into repairing broken hearts.”

She laughs. “His heart isn’t broken. It’s frozen. Just like yours.”

I remember the day I met him and his adorable son, Colby. Months have passed, and yet that man still haunts my thoughts. Maybe my fantasies, too.

“Anyway, I’ve gotta go. See you tomorrow,” I say.

“Before nine,” she reminds me.

“Okay, okay. Until then. Love you! Bye!”

The call ends, and I head back inside, grabbing a third glass. The alcohol starts to rush through me.

“Everything okay?” Billie asks as I approach them.

“Yeah. I have to be in Merryville tomorrow night for my sister’s party that I forgot about. Shit, I hope I can get a flight to El Paso on such short notice.”

Although I could use my father's resources, I refuse to ask for help.

Everything I have I've earned, and I take pride in that. Some would argue I’m not self-made, but I'd argue that being a Manchester has done me no favors. It’s only made life harder.

“You should purchase a private jet,” Billie suggests.

I laugh and shake my head. “Why, when I have two besties who will let me borrow theirs?”

“Touché,” Harper replies. She and Billie own a luxury fashion company and built a billion-dollar brand from scratch, just like me.

As I glance over Billie’s shoulder, I notice my date flirting with Dove Weatherly.

“Wow, they look perfect together,” I gasp.

Harper glances at them and nods.

Dyson’s fingers brush against Dove's as they stand close. She laughs at whatever he says.

“Looks like my plan worked after all. Even earlier than I predicted. Great.”

“You played matchmaker tonight?” Billie asks.

I shoot her a wink. It’s one of my things. Women tend to gravitate toward the men I date. “Why not?”

“You're an angry little cupid,” Billie snickers. “Don’t forget about my New Year's Eve party.”

“I promised to be there. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I prefer to stay flexible with my schedule and love the unpredictability of life. I crave it. However, if I commit to my besties, I do not ditch them. Ever. “I should probably head home.”

Billie wraps me in a tight hug, then Harper does the same.

Harper meets my gaze. “I think you're moving into a new era, my friend.”

“Is that a prediction?” I ask.

She grins widely, not denying it.

“I'll keep you updated on what happens in Texas,” I say, aware that I need to pack and figure out what costume to wear.

“You better,” Billie warns. “We’ll see you in two months.”

“I might be back before then.”

Billie smirks. “Claire will convince you to stay longer. Guaranteed.”

After another hug, I stroll across the room toward Dyson.

When our eyes meet, I point to the door and wave goodbye. He glances over at Dove before smiling back at me. It’s a silent thank you that resonates loud and clear. While I may struggle to find love for myself, I excel at helping others.

As I ride the elevator down to the ground floor, I contemplate life.

The next man I commit to will be someone I can spend the rest of my life with; there are no exceptions to this rule.

I might remain single forever.