Maddie Demeter had been turning heads since she was sixteen — long before she realized the full power of her looks. Now, at twenty-two, she’d learned how to lean into it. Not in an obvious way. That wasn’t her style. No, Maddie liked to let them look — let their eyes linger, let their imaginations run wild — while she smiled sweetly and pretended not to notice.

That smile was on her lips now as she stood in front of the Hartleys’ estate.

The place was ridiculous — sprawling white columns, a wraparound veranda, and a manicured garden that looked like it belonged in a bridal magazine. Somewhere deep inside, Maddie’s inner rebel itched to light a cigarette just to mess with the perfection.

But she was here for a job.
A live-in babysitting gig.
For an elite couple.

And Maddie — curvy, busty, blonde, and unapologetically bisexual — knew how to play her role. Innocent when she needed to be. Curious when it served her. And always, always observant.

She adjusted her fitted white tank top, the kind with spaghetti straps that clung to her full, round chest and made bras optional. Her soft pink mini skirt flounced just enough to look flirty but not too wild. She knew she looked young — sweet, even — but there was something in the way she carried herself that made people stop short.

She rang the bell.

A few seconds later, the door opened — and Maddie met her.

Vanessa Hartley.

Tall. Immaculate. Sharp.

Vanessa looked like old money and barely disguised contempt, wrapped in cream silk and subtle gold. Her blouse was tailored to perfection, hugging her small, firm chest, tucked into black high-waisted pants that emphasized her long legs. Her dark hair was pulled into a sleek bun that somehow made her cheekbones even sharper.

She took Maddie in with a slow, deliberate sweep of her eyes — from tousled blonde hair to bare shoulders to full breasts, down Maddie’s toned legs and delicate ankles. There was no attempt to hide it.

“You’re early,” Vanessa said, her voice low and smooth.

“I like to be,” Maddie replied, lips curling slightly. “Hope that’s not a problem.”

Vanessa didn’t smile. “Not at all.”

She stepped aside. Maddie brushed past her, catching a faint whiff of something cool and expensive — gardenia, with a hint of something darker. Musk. Leather. Lust?

The foyer was white marble and glass, lit by a crystal chandelier that sparkled like ice. The air was cool, almost sterile. But under it all, Maddie felt something electric. Like walking into a storm you hadn’t quite seen on the forecast.

A child’s laugh echoed from the living room.

“That’s Chloe,” Vanessa said, walking ahead. “She’s five. Sharp. Demanding. Don’t underestimate her.”

Maddie followed into the sun-drenched living room where a little girl was sprawled across a plush rug, coloring furiously.

She looked up. “Are you my new babysitter?”

“That depends,” Maddie said with a grin, crouching down. “Are you nice?”

The girl giggled. “Nope.”

Maddie laughed. “Then yes. I definitely am.”

Vanessa watched silently, arms folded. She said nothing, but something in her jaw softened. Just a fraction.

“You’re good with her,” she said after a beat.

“I like kids,” Maddie said, standing up. “They’re honest.”

Vanessa tilted her head. “Are you?”

“Sometimes.”

That earned the ghost of a smirk.

“Let’s talk in the kitchen.”

The kitchen was sleek, modern, and entirely too perfect — white marble counters, glass cabinets, a wine fridge humming softly. Maddie perched on a bar stool while Vanessa poured sparkling water into a crystal glass.

“So,” Vanessa said. “Why are you interested in this job?”

“I like being around families,” Maddie said, wrapping her hands around the cold glass. “Even the complicated ones.”

Vanessa raised an eyebrow. “You think we’re complicated?”

Maddie met her gaze dead-on. “I think you’re interesting.”

A pause.

Vanessa sipped her own drink. “Tell me something that isn’t in your application.”

Maddie leaned forward slightly. “I had a live-in nanny job in the Hamptons last summer. The mom tried to seduce me.”

Vanessa didn’t blink. “And did you let her?”

“She wasn’t really my type,” Maddie said, voice teasing. “She was scared of what she wanted.”

Vanessa’s gaze dropped for a split second — to Maddie’s cleavage, the deep shadow visible beneath the scoop neck of her tank. Then up again, cool and unreadable.

“Are you scared of what you want?”

“Not anymore.”

Silence bloomed between them — thick, heavy, delicious. Maddie could feel the tension pulling tight like a rubber band.

And then: the sound of the front door opening.

Footsteps. A lower voice. A man.

Graham Hartley walked in like he owned more than just the house — like he owned the room. Maybe the world. He wore black slacks and a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms. He looked rugged, like he belonged in a whiskey commercial. And his eyes — ice blue — locked onto Maddie the moment he saw her.

“Well,” he said, smiling slow. “You must be Maddie Demeter.”

She stood, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

He took it — firm grip, just rough enough. And he held it a heartbeat longer than necessary.

“I’m Graham. My wife tells me you’re very qualified.”

“I try to overdeliver,” Maddie said.

Vanessa cleared her throat, sharp and delicate at once. “She’ll be staying in the guest suite. It has a private bath.”

“Of course,” Graham said. “Want me to show her around?”

“I’m sure she can find her way.”

Maddie smiled. “I wouldn’t mind a tour.”

There was a beat — something silent passed between husband and wife. A flicker of unspoken rules.

Then Vanessa nodded. “Fine. But dinner’s at seven.”

Graham led her down the hall, his arm brushing hers just barely as they moved past closed doors and plush rugs. His voice was casual, but his eyes kept darting sideways — to her hips, her mouth, her chest.

“You’ll be happy here,” he said. “Unless you get bored easily.”

“Depends on the kind of excitement,” Maddie said, letting the innuendo hang.

He chuckled. “My wife’s a tough read. But she notices everything.”

“I figured that out about three minutes in.”

He stopped in front of a guest suite door. “This is you.”

The room was soft and rich — warm wood floors, a king-sized bed, huge windows, and its own ensuite bathroom. Maddie stepped in and ran a hand across the comforter.

“Feels like a hotel.”

“Well,” Graham said from behind her, voice low, “you’ll be part of the family now. The luxurious kind.”

Maddie turned slightly, her body angled toward him. “Do you always flirt with the help?”

“Only when the help flirts back.”

A moment. Breathless. Loaded.

Then a soft voice from down the hall: “Maddie?”

Vanessa.

Graham stepped back, his smirk unchanged. “See you at dinner.”

Maddie closed the door behind him, heart hammering softly — not from nerves, but from anticipation. She stepped to the window, the golden afternoon light spilling across her bare legs.

This house was full of games.
But Maddie had always liked to play.

And she had a feeling…
Vanessa and Graham Hartley played dirty.

Maddie’s Page