The Housekeeper Who Tried to Marry Me Off

Mochi was a hundred-pound Alaskan Malamute with an insatiable need for exercise. Since my role at Swanson Group kept me buried in work, walking him was the most critical part of the nanny's job.

With that in mind, I headed toward the study, tossing a command over my shoulder.

"Clear the table. Don't disturb me today. I have work to finish."

Once inside, I pulled out my phone and dialed the agency. I needed a replacement within three days. After confirming the request, I exhaled slowly, tension easing from my shoulders.

For Mochi's sake, I'd tolerate Violet for just a few more days.

The next morning, a man's low rumble pulled me from sleep.

My pulse spiked. I threw off the covers and hurried to the living room, tightening my robe.

A stranger was sitting on my sofa.

Hearing my footsteps, Violet emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron as if nothing were amiss.

"Zoey, you're up?" She beamed, gesturing to the man. "This is my son, Isaac Whitney. Since you're both young, I brought him over so you could get to know each other."

My gaze shifted to Isaac.

He stood maybe five-seven but easily weighed over two hundred pounds. His face was pitted with acne scars, his greasy hair looked unwashed for a week, and he was sprawled across my imported leather sofa, muddy shoes planted directly on the white carpet.

His eyes raked over me—invasive, assessing. Revulsion slid down my spine.

I pointed at him, then glared at Violet. "This is my private residence. Who gave you permission to bring a stranger into my home?"

Violet's smile faltered. She froze, unsure how to react.

Isaac slammed his hand on the armrest, face twisting.

"Who gave you the right to talk to my mother like that? Is that how your parents taught you to treat elders?" He sneered, leaning forward. "I only came to give you a chance. Otherwise, you couldn't pay me to visit. Apologize to my mom, or don't blame me for getting rough."

My patience snapped. I raised my phone.

"Violet, take your son and get out. Now. Or I call the police." I stared her down. "And don't bother coming back. You're fired."

Violet panicked, waving her hands frantically.

"No, no, no! Zoey, don't misunderstand! I meant well! I thought since you're both single, you'd have things in common." She put on a pitiful expression. "Look at you, over thirty and still alone. I just feel sorry for you. Isaac is a good boy. Sit down and talk to him properly."

I wasn't going to waste breath on people who refused to understand human language. My thumb hovered over the emergency number, but an incoming call cut me off.

My secretary.

"Ms. Swanson, the client just arrived. Are you almost here?"

The meeting. I cursed silently. Today was the negotiation with a critical client. I didn't have time for this circus, and definitely not time to wait for police.

I spun around and marched to the bathroom, ignoring them.

Twenty minutes later, I emerged in a sharp suit and heels. Isaac and Violet hadn't moved.

Isaac scoffed, looking me up and down.

"Look at her, Mom. Heavy makeup, flashy clothes—what kind of decent woman dresses like that?" He leaned back, arms crossed with disdain. "You'll need to discipline her properly."

Violet shot him a warning glance before turning to me with a fawning smile.

"Zoey, please. You really misunderstood. I don't have bad intentions. I'm only thinking of your future. Why don't you give me—"

I raised my hand, cutting her off cold.