The black iron gates of the Kim mansion slid open with a quiet hum, letting in the sleek taxi that carried Jeon Jungkook. She sat in the backseat with her legs crossed, the hem of her micro-skirt barely covering her thighs. Her glossy pink lips curved into a smile as she pulled out a compact mirror and dabbed her cherry gloss one more time. Her white blouse was tight, clinging to her full breasts, the top three buttons left open so her cleavage peeked out freely. Everyone on the way had stared—and she loved it.

Today was her first day as the new lactating nanny for baby Kim Jiho. At just 19, Jungkook looked more like a model stepping into a fashion shoot than someone hired to care for an infant. But she knew her charms worked like a magnet, and this rich family was about to be no different.

The taxi stopped in front of the grand marble steps. Jungkook stepped out in sky-high heels, tugging her tiny skirt down with one hand while adjusting her blouse with the other. She looked up at the massive mansion—glass walls, pristine gardens, and fountains—and her smirk widened.

The door opened, and Sara appeared. Tall, slim, wearing designer yoga pants and a crop top, her hair in a sleek ponytail. She gave Jungkook a once-over, her perfectly plucked brows arching.

“So… you’re the nanny?” Sara’s voice was flat, unimpressed.

“Yes, ma’am!” Jungkook chirped brightly, her voice sweet like candy. She gave a little bow, but the move made her boobs jiggle against the thin fabric of her blouse.

Sara’s eyes narrowed. “You look… young.”

“And beautiful,” came a low voice from behind Sara.

Jungkook lifted her gaze—and her breath caught. Standing in the doorway was Kim Taehyung, the man of the house. Tall, broad shoulders filling out his white dress shirt, sharp jaw, tousled dark hair, and piercing eyes that lingered on her in a way that felt almost sinful. For a moment, he seemed frozen, just taking her in—the pouty pink lips, the glowing white skin, the curves spilling out of her clothes.

Sara scoffed loudly and waved her manicured hand dismissively. “Don’t stand there drooling, babe. She’s just here for the baby.”

Taehyung cleared his throat, but his gaze didn’t leave Jungkook. “Right… of course.”

Jungkook felt a little thrill run through her at the way his eyes trailed down her body. She swayed her hips just a bit as she stepped past Sara into the mansion, the click of her heels echoing on the marble floors.

Inside, everything sparkled—expensive chandeliers, gold accents, and polished wood. But what caught Jungkook’s attention was the soft little cry coming from upstairs.

“That’s Jiho,” Sara said lazily, scrolling on her phone. “He’s six months. Cute but exhausting. I don’t… really do the whole breastfeeding thing. It ruins your figure, you know? That’s why you’re here. You’re… lactating, right?”

Jungkook’s cheeks flushed, but she nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll take very good care of him.”

Sara didn’t bother to look up. “Good. I need my sleep. My workouts. My life.” She glanced at Taehyung, smirking. “And, well… my man.”

Taehyung shifted uncomfortably at her bluntness, his jaw tightening. Jungkook caught the flicker of something in his expression—a mix of embarrassment and hunger.

Upstairs, the baby’s cries grew louder. Jungkook hurried up, her heels clicking, and entered the nursery. The sight melted her immediately: Jiho, a chubby, rosy-cheeked baby boy, kicking his little legs in his crib. His big dark eyes looked teary, but the moment he saw her, he stilled, curious.

“Oh, baby…” Jungkook cooed, leaning down. Her blouse gaped open as she scooped him up, holding him against her soft chest. “You’re so handsome, Jiho. Don’t cry, Kookie’s here.”

The baby gurgled, clutching her shirt with his tiny fist, his face pressing against her cleavage. He seemed to calm instantly, his cries replaced with little coos.

Behind her, Taehyung’s voice came low, husky. “He likes you already.”

Jungkook turned, surprised. She hadn’t noticed him leaning against the doorway, watching. His eyes lingered not just on the baby, but on the way Jiho fit so snugly against her breasts, how natural she looked holding him.

“He’s… perfect,” Jungkook said softly, rocking Jiho.

Taehyung nodded, but his eyes were still locked on her. “Yeah. He is.”

For a long moment, the room was silent—just the sound of Jiho’s soft breaths. Jungkook felt the weight of Taehyung’s stare, hot and heavy, as if he were memorizing every curve of her body.

Downstairs, Sara’s laughter rang out as she spoke into her phone, already planning her next outing.

And in that nursery, something unspoken sparked.

The nanny had arrived.