Oddly, and if he’d wanted any further reassurances about taking her on, he knew the family in question. He had done business with the guy only a handful of months previously. He was as solid, as respectable and as trustworthy as they came. Small world, but he knew only too well that it was a village when it came to people who were filthy rich.
‘How did you find this family?’
Sophie hesitated. She thought of her darling parents, struggling without her knowing to maintain a façade, and all for her. To keep her at the expensive private school, to fund the university fees and the holidays and a lifestyle she could happily have done without.
Two people who had started out comfortably enough, she guessed, from weeks of scouring a million bank statements and a thousand receipts. Her father had been a partner at an accountancy firm and her mother had been a very happy housewife.
At some point within the past five years, things had gone horribly wrong. A poor investment had spread all sorts of toxic tentacles through their finances and, reading between the lines, Sophie had sensed the panic that must have overwhelmed her dad because he had thrown bad money after good in an attempt to staunch the haemorrhaging of cash. With a mortgage still on their house in London and bills to pay, she could only imagine how fearful he must have been.
The heady days when he had known the likes of Eric and Lina Buhler seemed like a lifetime ago now that she was sitting here, remembering those times of innocence.
She wasn’t going to go down any roads of sharing confidences, though. Niccolo had made it very clear that lines of demarcation between them had to be in place for this to work.
However much she found him disconcerting, she wasn’t going to nervously impart any information that wasn’t strictly necessary, and it wasn’t necessary for him to know anything about her parents. He was free to assume what he wanted.
‘They were recommended to me.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘I enjoy skiing and I wanted a bit of time out before uni. It seemed like a good idea and it was great fun. I loved it and I got along very well with the Buhlers. They are a lovely family. I haven’t done any nannying since then, but I’ve met your daughter and we’ve clicked.’ She nudged the brochures and pamphlets towards him and Niccolo duly scooped the top two up and perused them.
Museums...a Disney art exhibition...the zoo...lots of gardens... She’d done her due diligence and that impressed him because she obviously hadn’t taken anything for granted simply because she came with his aunt’s blessing. She was leaning towards him, her white-blonde hair escaping around her flushed cheeks, her violet eyes one hundred per cent focused on him, her lips slightly parted.
‘Good.’ He sat back and looked at her carefully. ‘And will there be any impediment to your living with Annalise and me for the duration of your tenure? This is important to me because as much as I try, it’s impossible to dictate my working hours. You’ll need to be on hand to cover those times when I can’t make it home...as early as I would like.’ He paused, guiltily aware that far too often he worked late, and with his aunt there he had become too comfortable with long hours. In the wake of his failed marriage and after his wife had died, Niccolo had striven to work normal hours, but it was difficult running his sprawling empire between the strict hours of nine to five. He had all the money in the world but not enough time. Work was his fortress and it had been easy to sit behind those impregnable walls, controlling the direction of his life, but had he somehow become a less than effective father in the process? He adored his daughter, but was adoration enough? Things, he suspected, would have to change with a new woman on the scene. He would have to be physically present to keep an eye on proceedings.
‘What sort of impediment?’
‘Parents? A relative you may be looking after? Unresolved boyfriend issues? Cats? Dogs? Goldfish?’
‘I...’ She paused as she blindly sought the handkerchief she had rested on her lap. ‘No, there won’t be any impediment.’
Niccolo looked at her for a few moments, head tilted to one side, then he sat forward and briskly slapped both hands on the table. ‘Right. Here’s what is going to happen next. You’ll get a contract from my PA, which you will be required to sign.’ He named a weekly salary that he could hear took her breath away. ‘That will be your basic pay,’ he said. ‘Purely covers nine to five. You start work earlier or end later and you will be compensated accordingly.’ He paused. ‘I hope you don’t think that we got off on the wrong foot, Miss Baxter—’
‘Sophie, please.’ She tried a smile on for size.
‘And of course, you must call me Niccolo.’
‘And no, I don’t think we got off on the wrong foot. Makes it easier, knowing that...’
‘That there will be no unpleasant mixed messages? Agreed. Moving on... I will expect you on Monday at eight a.m. sharp. I have a series of meetings but I can push them back so I can show you the ropes.’ He hesitated. ‘I may work long hours, but let there be no mistake: my daughter is the centre of my life, and I am putting a great deal of faith in you that you won’t let me down.’
‘I won’t.’
‘Whether I am physically in the house or not, there will be a strict rule in place that there are no parties...or men sleeping over...’
‘There won’t be!’
‘You’ll be relinquishing your free movement for a few weeks,’ he elaborated gently. ‘Whatever situation you may have been through that’s brought you here...’ He found himself pausing, giving her time to jump in. She didn’t. ‘You’re young and you might find it difficult having your wings temporarily cut to some degree, and I say to some degree because you will naturally have your time to do as you wish outside the house whenever I am at home. I intend to spend as much of the weekends as possible working from home.’
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘I’m all ears.’ He made a magnanimous, sweeping gesture with one hand and relaxed back.
‘Do youeverstop working?’
For the second time that evening, Niccolo was knocked for six.
His aunt nagged him about the hours he worked. So did his parents. He indulged them.
Beyond those privileged three, no one had ever broached the subject, including the many women he had dated in the past. He’d never had to make a point of it. Perhaps they had all read invisible warnings he had projected and steered clear from a topic that would spell the end of any relationship.
He had emerged from a broken marriage where the hours he worked had become a bone of contention, always to be used whenever an attack was to be made.
