“That would be great!” I blurt.
Oh my days. I can’t believe he took my fuck up for a joke. I’m never this lucky. Ever.
He wanders over to a side table, and I belatedly spot a gorgeous coffee machine. For fuck’s sake. I thought he was going to have to leave the room. Oh well, there is nothing for it. I’m going to have to act while his back is turned.
Quickly, I grab the chair and yank it sideways, towards the shade. It is far heavier than it looks and it scrapes loudly across the stained floorboards.
Morgan whirls around at the noise and catches me red-handed. Wrapped around his expensive chair and inexplicably dragging it across his fancy floor.
I wince. “The um…sun was in my eyes.”
He blinks at me. Then he robotically holds out a coffee. I think I have really freaked him out now. Should have known my luck wasn’t going to last. I’m going to have to glamor the shit out of him.
I take my coffee and sheepishly sit in the chair. At least it is out of the sun now.
Morgan takes his seat on the other side of the desk. He places his coffee cup down, and then he sighs heavily.
“The kids are four, three and two years old. Their mother died by suicide just over a year ago. I’ve taken as much time away from my business as I can, but I need to be more hands on. Hence needing a nanny.”
He takes a deep breath and the grief in his eyes is breaking my heart. “I just wanted to get that out in the open.”
“Okay,” I nod calmly.
While inside, I feel like I am dying. How many times has he had to say that today? Lay his grief bare for everyone to see. It’s awful. And it is all my fault.
Ritchie said he’d kill my family if I didn’t behave. And stubborn, arrogant ass that I am, I didn’t listen. And my great-granddaughter and her family paid the price.
“The kids are doing remarkably well. They have a great therapist. The job isn’t anything to do with that.”
I nod my understanding. “And how are you doing?”
He blinks at me again. His body even recoils a little. A tiny, rueful smile tugs on the corners of his generous lips.
“Not so good.”
Now I’m the one startling in surprise. That was a brutally honest answer. But I did ask. And I’m a stranger, a safe space. Someone he thinks he is never going to see again, because I’m pretty sure he is not going to give me the job by his own volition.
He visibly rouses himself and picks up a piece of paper.
“So you don’t have any professional experience, but you helped raise your baby sister?”
She was my daughter.I want to say it. It is on the tip of my tongue. I long to claim her, to tell the world that she existed and that she was wonderful. But I can’t. I look nineteen. Early twenties at most and that is shockingly young to have kids these days.
I want to come across as normal and unremarkable as possible. As well as avoiding awkward questions about where my child is. So, sister is the lie I am going with.
My Barbara has to stay dead and buried. As much as it pains me. But this is all so I can take care of her great-grandkids, so I think she would forgive me.
“Yeah, that’s right,” I say with a smile.
Morgan doesn’t reply. His eyes look over the piece of paper in his hand. My shitty resume, I assume. I only threw enough of a one together to get an interview. My planalways was to get my foot in the door and then use my powers to get him to give me the job.
Except I wasn’t expecting to feel guilty about it. Goddammit!. This is awful. Stupid conscience. Dumb morals. What good have they ever done me?
Morgan sighs heavily and places my resume down. Then he pinches the bridge of his nose.
“The job is yours, if you want it.”
His softly spoken words drift around the study. My mind replays them. Several times.
