Alien Architect Needs a Nanny (Alien Nanny Agency 1)

Emilia

Emilia opened the front door later that day, with Dyrk and Mimi in tow once more.

While she didn’t want to pry, Dyrk had come home cheerful. She hoped that meant his big entrance had worked and the teasing over the old car was through.

The moment the door was open, he tore off up the staircase as he always did after school.

As much as he liked hanging out with his sister, he also loved his gamepad. And Emilia figured some downtime playing games on it after school wasn’t the worst thing in the world, as long as she could coax him off it in time to get in some fresh air before bed.

“Ready for your snack?” she asked Mimi.

“Yes,” the little one answered, her eyes sparkling.

She grabbed Emilia’s hand and led her to the kitchen, as though Emilia might not know where it was.

Her thoughts involuntarily went back to what happened with Ra’as last night in the kitchen, and she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks.

Don’t waste any time thinking about it. He’s certainly not.

But it was impossible not to think about it a little.

“Grandma,” Mimi yelled, letting go of Emilia’s hand and rousing her from her wayward thoughts.

She followed the little girl into the kitchen to find a tall Kotenka woman in a powder blue suit leaning on the counter.

“Grandma, this is Emilia,” Mimi said joyfully as she wrapped her arms around her grandmother’s waist. “She gave me worms, and she drives super fast!”

Emilia winced a little, but the older woman only chuckled at her granddaughter.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Drayven,” Emilia said.

“The pleasure is mine,” Mrs. Drayven said, her warm smile making Emilia feel instantly at ease.

Though she had the same pale blue eyes as her son, Mrs. Drayven’s were magnified by a pair of fashionable spectacles. And where Ra’as gaze could be cold, Mrs. Drayven appeared more bemused than judgmental. And the choice to wear the glasses, when her family could obviously afford any kind of corrective procedure they wanted, said that she was the practical type.

“I hope you don’t mind me stopping by,” she said to Emilia. “But I wanted to bring the children some soup. I don’t like them eating those pre-made things for every meal.”

“Emilia helps us cook,” Mimi cried. “We made cupcakes.”

“Oh, is that so?” Mrs. Drayven asked Mimi. “So, you don’t feed them the pods, Emilia?”

Emilia felt a wave of panic thinking of tenet fifteen: Always respect the parents’ wishes.

“It’s wonderful that Mr. Drayven prioritizes the children’s nutrition,” she said carefully. “We try to make sure that what we cook is very healthy, with the same components he planned for them.”

“I wouldn’t eat that crap either,” Mrs. Drayven said, giving Emilia a conspiratorial wink from behind her big glasses.

Emilia smiled back, feeling relieved.

“You said crap, Grandma,” Mimi giggled.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Mrs. Drayven said with an indulgent smile.

“Our garden,” Mimi sang out. “You have to see our garden, Grandma. Emilia is helping us.”

“Well, it’s not much of a garden yet,” Emilia said. “But it’s going to be so much fun working on it, right, Mimi?”

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Mrs. Drayven said. “I would love to see it.”