SUMMARY: Bella accepts a job as a nanny that she's totally unprepared for. She thought she would struggle with the three snotty rich kids, unfortunately it's their father that causes the most damage. He works long and hard, with the rest of his time spent adoring his kids. His wife fails to see it that way - thankfully for him Bella sees him clearly. Rated M, lemons, cannon couples, all human.

Characters aren't my own.

No. 1

As a kid, I loved 'The Sound of Music.' Maria was kind, patient and most of all qualified - unlink me. Yet here I am standing at the gates of this massive mansion, suitcase in hand, prepared to nanny it up. I also lacked a nun habit, picking a pencil skirt and blouse instead. The taxi had just dropped me off, the old man wishing me good luck after inviting me to discuss the move the entire trip.

Now I know what you're thinking.

Isabella Marie Swan, you dingus. You can't just mind a stranger's child when you don't have the qualification to do it. You're right. I have some qualifications. I can perform first aid, I can analyse psychology with a degree I use as a bookmark at home and I have a working with children check - so they know I'm not totally crazy. I just haven't done this before. I haven't been in charge of making sure a kid doesn't pop a fork into a toaster, or make sure a child doesn't draw on the walls. However, I needed cash and I wanted to travel. Both ends this job meets.

I'd been raised in a small town in Washington state and when my father held up a condom asking 'why on earth I'd need it' in my tiny bedroom in his tiny house… I knew it was time to flee the nest for good. So I entered whatever answers I'd thought a desperate mother would like to hear and I screamed in delight when it had actually worked out.

The buzzer at the gate was loud, like an endgame tone during a hockey tournament. I winched from the sound hoping my time wasn't already up.

"What," a bitchy, shrill female voice snaps through it.

Jesus.

"Um... I'm the new nanny. Isabella Swan - I've just arriv…" I begin.

No response - the gate just begins to open. What the hell.

Not allowing my ego to feel wounded I walk up the long drive to see the door already open for me. I almost miss it as I admire the beautiful hedges and gardens around me. Okay, I feel like Annie. The driveway turned into a roundabout with a luxurious stone water fountain. This house was Barbie's dream house on steroids. Downtone Abby on meth.

A man in a tuxedo stands to wait for me at the double, dark wood doors, they're the size of king kong.

"Miss Swan," he says - this is the man from the phone.

I'd recognise it anywhere.

"I'm Watson, the Cullen's butler. Please, come on inside," he steps back for me.

As I enter the house I drop my jaw. The entrance is spectacular. A double staircase, marble floors and a chandelier Sia could only dream to swing from. It smells fresh as if a rainforest had walked on through the room. This is where I would get to live for the next year, until their regular nanny returned from her holiday.

"Shit," I whisper, "This is… this is it?"

"Indeed. I wouldn't describe it as 'shit' but I appreciate the sentiment as I'm sure Mrs Cullen would also," he almost sounds bored, or tired. I can't decide.

"Sorry," I nod, "I shouldn't have sworn. I don't do that ever, it's just… this house is the most amazing home I've ever been to."

"It's a manor, Miss. Not simply a house. This house has ten bedrooms, two pools, a cinema, a tennis court and a stable," he scoffs, "they have six more just like it. One even has a koi pond in the entrance."

"A koi pond?" I try to keep my voice steady.

"Indeed," he nods.

"Indeed," I raise my eyebrows in shock.

His expression illustrates he doesn't appreciate it. These people must wipe their ass with gold. Why use regular toilet paper? I hate myself currently and my cheap Macys skirt. It looks $40 and everyone can tell. Even the chandelier is onto me.

"I shall show you where to put your things and then I shall take you to meet the parents," he says.

Right to it. No time to even invent a game plan. Rosalie, my best friend at home, is a school teacher. When I told her what I was doing she laughed in my face - "Bella, kids hate you" she had said. I shrugged it off taking whatever advice she could offer. The best she gave me was this - 'let them think they have won… even when you won.'

"I can't wait to meet them," maybe it's too eager because his expression shows no excitement for me.

"They must be pretty loaded to afford a butler. I didn't even know they worked still, well except for royalty," I say as we walk.

"You could say loaded, but you shouldn't," he nods irritated by my very presence, "this is your room, Miss."

He opens a set of double doors showing me into a large room, the size of my father's entire house, lying before me. Period elements adorned the room, with a fireplace, bay windows and high ceilings. It was made modern with plush carpets and light wood furnishings. A king-sized, four-poster bed begged me to dive onto it, while the large walk-in wardrobe begged me to explore it.

"Woah," I whisper, dropping my bags.

"Come along, Miss Swan. No time to gawk. Mr and Mrs Cullen are waiting for you," Watson takes off down the hall again before I can take it all in, "they're both very busy and we mustn't keep them waiting."

"You said Mr Cullen was a lawyer," I say, "he must get busy. What about Mrs Cullen?"

"She's," he stops to think about it, "a socialite."

"Is that an actual job? That's just drinking wine and laughing at other rich people right?" I joke playfully.

"If you want to keep your employment here I suggest you pretend it is a job," his lip quirks up ever so slightly, "my best advice to you Miss Swan is to as the hip kids say these days… just roll with it."

He pulls open another door - they were everywhere. Inside the large study stood a blonde and tall woman with her arms crossed, clearly irritated by something. She was glaring at a man at a desk. I don't even bother taking her appearance in because I'm too drawn to his. Dishevelled bronze hair with a face carved like a stone. His jaw could slice butter, while his green eyes could melt it. Despite how angry he looks, he still looks beautiful. His fists are clenched and his eyes appear tired. His wife's long blonde hair is only made longer by her hair extensions. I can't help but notice the boob job, the lip fillers. She wears an expensive dress and dramatic makeup. She looks like the CEO of a socialite, and exactly the sort of woman who could almost match Edward's beauty.

"Sir," Watson bows slightly at the waist.

Do I do that? If I bend they may see the cheapness of the skirt.

"The new nanny has arrived at Cullen manor, Miss Isabella Swan. She's been shown to her room, but I thought you'd appreciate putting a face to a name," he steps aside to give them a proper view of me.

While the woman refuses to move an inch, the man stands.

"Miss Swan," he starts, thankfully less formal than Watson.

His voice is melodic, but there's a hint of strain behind his words. We had interrupted an argument.

"You can call me Bella," I interrupt.

For a moment he studies me. Then ever so slowly a show-stopping smile spreads across his face, taking the anger away.

Thanks for reading.

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