Page 49 of Nanny for the Firefighters

She lets out a sound between a laugh and a squeal. "You're all insane."

"Maybe," I say, squeezing her hand. "But sometimes, crazy is exactly what you need."

She takes a deep breath, looking at each of us again. "Okay," she whispers. "Let's give this a chance."

A collective sigh of relief goes through the room. Will claps his hands. "Alright, who's up for pizza? I think we deserve a celebration."

Ella laughs, the sound light and free. "You guys are unbelievable."

"Believe it, sweetheart," I say, pulling her into a hug. "We're in this together."

Marcus stands up. "Okay, ground rules. Communication is key. No one gets left out. We talk about everything."

Theo nods. "And we make time for each of us. Ella, you won't have to choose between us. We're all in this together."

Will grins. "And we spoil you rotten. That's a given."

Ella's smile grows, the tension in her shoulders easing. "I can't believe this is happening. But it feels right."

"It is right," I say firmly.

As we settle into an easy conversation, the room feels full. With Ella in the center, we're stronger together. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Ella leans against me, her head on my shoulder. "You guys really mean this, don't you?"

Marcus wraps an arm around her. "Every word. You're our girl, Ella."

Theo smirks. "And we're your guys. All four of us."

Will raises an imaginary glass. "To us. The most unconventional, badass team there is."

Ella laughs, snuggling into the warmth of our embrace. "To us."

This should be enough, I think to myself. For some reason, though, a prickle of unease runs down my spine.

23

ELLA

One Month Later

Things are going well with my four firefighter lovers. Boyfriends? It still sounds so odd when I say it aloud. Not much better in my head, either, but at least the memories of our intimate moments and the contentment in my body and soul push away the guilt over taking what seems like the last four eligible men off the market. I'm keeping them all for myself.

Beyond the enormous bouts of sex, the long shifts caring for and bonding with Lily, and the intimate dinners—and breakfasts—I've made decent progress on my own, personal project. Nap time is a godsend, let me tell you. The extra software on my laptop makes my job easier, too. Thank you, former computer science classmates who didn't mind sharing some of that freeware all those years ago.

I've kept myself updated on them ever since, and they all helped me with my new vendetta against Marcus's ex, Vanessa. The way I've seen her treat him and Lily heightens my fury every time, but it seems impossible to keep her at bay.

Her threats to get him back for whatever she made up in her head about him has me laser focused on her past and present behavior. It's easy to start with. Vanessa plasters her image all over social media—especially Instagram. I've thumbed my way through an ocean of bird's eye views of her cleavage. Every shot is also filtered to smooth out her skin and put some life in her eyes.

Or maybe it's only me that can see the gold-digger zombie underneath. It's like the only thing she can think of is Money. Money. Like the old-time zombies used to groan for brains.

Her personality is far too common. I can't even list the number of cases like hers I've worked over the years. They're always the hardest to crack but also the most satisfying. Social media is only the first stop—sexy selfies overloaded with praise in the comments, cheesy inspirational quotes with luxury items in the background, tone-deaf complaints about how difficult her life is.

Yeah, right. Marcus already gives her $150k a year, which is more than the forty percent he's required to give her in their alimony agreement. But he throws another couple thousand on it when she makes a big stink in order to get her to go away.

It's not working.

How can she go through all of that money? I need a third of it to survive.