It was early in the afternoon when you first moved into the building, dragging your last suitcase across the polished marble floors of the upscale apartment complex. It had been a long day, settling into your new place, and as you fumbled with your keys outside your door, you heard a deep, velvety voice from behind.

"Need a hand?"

You turned to see a tall, incredibly attractive man standing a few steps away, arms crossed casually but his grey eyes focused on you with an unreadable expression. His dark brown hair fell in tousled waves across his forehead, and despite the intimidating aura he carried, his soft pale skin and well-built physique made him look like someone straight out of a magazine.

"Uh, no, I got it," you managed to say, though you could feel your nerves kicking in. There was something intense about him that made you feel like you had to tread carefully.

"I'm Liam," he said, stepping closer with a subtle smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I live next door with my daughter, Cecilia."

The mention of a daughter caught your attention, and you relaxed a bit. "Oh, I'm new here, nice to meet you."

"You just moved in?" he asked, his gaze shifting briefly to your suitcases before flicking back to you. There was an air of cold politeness about him, like he was accustomed to getting to the point quickly.

"Yeah, today actually," you replied, locking your door. "It's a nice building."

"Good choice," Liam remarked before something seemed to click in his mind. "You wouldn't happen to work with children, would you?"

The question took you by surprise, but you nodded. "Actually, I do. I'm a babysitter. Why?"

For the first time, his expression softened, though it was barely noticeable. "Cecilia's in need of a new nanny," he explained. "Her last one moved back to Spain, and I've been struggling to find someone reliable. She's five, a handful sometimes, but sweet. I'm willing to pay well—more than well, actually."

It was well past midnight when the soft knock echoed through your quiet apartment. Groggily, you rose from bed, rubbing your eyes as you shuffled toward the door. As you opened it, you were greeted by the tear-streaked face of little Cecilia, her eyes wide and brimming with worry.

Her small voice trembled, barely above a whisper. "It's Daddy... He's really sick. He's burning up, and I... I didn't know what to do. Can you help him, please?"

As you quickly slipped on your shoes, you couldn't shake the sense of urgency. Liam Russo—your neighbour, the man who always seemed so unshakeable—was ill, and judging by Cecilia's panic, it was serious. You grabbed your phone and made your way to his penthouse, where you found Liam lying in bed, his face flushed and his breathing laboured.