Nanny for the Rockstars

NANNY FOR THE ROCKSTARS AN ENEMIES TO LOVERS REVERSE HAREM ROMANCE ZOEY FOX Copyright © 2023 by Zoey Fox All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. CONTENTS 1. Julian 2. Jeanette 3. Caleb 4. Jeanette 5. Terry 6. Jeanette 7. Julian 8. Terry 9. Jeanette 10. Julian 11. Caleb 12. Jeanette 13. Terry 14. Caleb 15. Jeanette 16. Julian 17. Jeanette 18. Julian 19. Caleb 20. Jeanette 21. Terry 22. Jeanette 23. Julian 24. Jeanette 25. Caleb 26. Jeanette 27. Terry 28. Caleb 29. Julian 30. Jeanette Tutor With Benefits ONE JULIAN With the slam of the door, the screams are silenced. I walk through the narrow corridor and do my best to adjust to the inky blackness though unable to do so fully, and I’m blinded by the bright light as I push through the next door. “Man! That was wild!” Caleb, my older brother by only one minute, yells as he spills into the room behind Terry, my younger brother also by roughly one minute. The two were directly behind me during the walk through the hall, but now that we’re officially backstage there’s a lot more room for the three of us to spread out. “Sold out crowd, again!” I say as I smirk at my two brothers. “This is the third show in a month that’s been sold out, and with the size of this stadium, do you have any idea what that means?” “We’re getting bigger by the day,” Terry says. “We keep this up, and we’re going to go down as legends along with the greats. Rolling Stones, Queen, Led Zeppelin—watch out, Triple Repeat is coming for you!” “I can’t imagine what it would feel like to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, but if we ever do that I’ll be able to die happy,” I tell them. My brothers agree, and we head further backstage to get to the dressing room. I’m starving. I’m always hungry after a good show, and I’d love to get fucked up on liquor too, if there’s some around. If there’s not, it won’t be that hard to get some. It was a longer set tonight, almost two hours once all was said and done. But we were really pulling out all the stops when it came to promoting ourselves. As triplets, we’re already something of an anomaly in the music world, and since we have talent to add to the mix, we’re definitely securing ourselves a place on the charts. We’re identical triplets. And without really even trying, we’ve remained identical. The three of us are tall, muscular, have the typical overgrown messy hair that comes with our occupation, and we all have a variety of tattoos. Genetics certainly work the same for all three of us, and I credit it to our common lifestyle, but we tend to remain pretty much the same as far as weight, style, and mannerisms. In a nutshell, we chose the name Triple Repeat because watching us is like watching the same person doing three different things. It’s part of our aura, our aesthetic. And it works incredibly well for us. The screaming crowd proves that. But with the show behind us, I’m ready to forget about the work involved with this job and instead focus on the most important person in my world: me. Terry leads us to the dressing room, pushing open the door and stopping dead in his tracks, causing me and Caleb to run into him. “What gives?” “The fuck?” We both demand an explanation as we’re stopped short. Terry’s eyes are fixed on something in the center of the room, and both Caleb and I freeze when we see it too. “A baby carrier?” Terry asks. “Not just a carrier,” Caleb replies as he looks inside. “There’s actually a baby in here.” “And a note?” I say. “What in the fucked up Hollywood movie is this?” “What’s it say?” Terry asks. “I am unable to care for the baby and figured, what better life to give him than a famous one? Meet your son. You’re the father,” I read out loud. “I am?” Terry asks in surprise. “It doesn’t say specifically. It’s not addressed to anyone,” I reply. “So I guess that means all of us are the father?” “Oh thank god,” a voice breaks into our conversation, and we turn to see one of the security guards rushing into the dressing room. He’s heavyset and out of breath, his chest heaving as he puts his hands on his knees and tries to regain composure. “What’s this about?” I ask as I give a slight nod to the baby in the basket. “And this?” I hold up the note as well, and the guard puts his hand up to stop the questions as he catches his breath. “I don’t know. I was making my rounds when I saw a woman coming out of the dressing room about ten minutes ago. I wasn’t sure who she was, so I called out to her, and she broke into a run. I glanced into the room and saw the baby carrier but instead of coming in here I wanted to chase her down and get some answers. But she got away.” “What did she look like?” Caleb asks. “I don’t know,” he replies. “All I can say is she was on the shorter side, only a couple inches over five feet if I had to guess, but she was wearing a baggy hoodie and had the hood pulled over her head, so I couldn’t make out any features except for her height. Even her pants were on the baggy side so I can’t tell you if she was skinny or average build for that matter.” “Ten minutes ago,