So I swallow, going somehow more rigid. “I wasn’t actually talking about going over a contract, though. I’d like to discuss your expectations for the household. Daily tasks. Foods you like. Foods you can’t stand. If I’m doing your meals and meal planning, I assume I’ll be handling the menu and shopping, which means I’ll need to know whether or not certain things are forbidden to cross your palate. Also, dietary restrictions. Allergies. Calorie expectations. Meal times. Will you need snacks? You…” I glance over him. Big. Tall. Muscles. “How much protein should I aim for each day?” And is the answerall of it? “I need to know your macro goals to more effectively gear the menu to your health needs. And to what end does my role extend? Am I just managing cleaning and meals, or do I need to anticipate event planning, catering, total home maintenance and management? If the sink gets a leak, am I telling you, or am I the one researching on who to call to get it fixed? What are the budgets across the board?” I freeze when I realize I have more than run out of air. Filling my burning lungs, I slow my words down. “I just have…a lot of questions still, before I’m ready to look at a contract or anything.”
His lips part, and he stares at me for a good long while. Then he gently shakes his head, and something about his voice gives moregruffthan it even did before, which unsettles me, because I don’t know what I’ve done wrong this time. “I appreciate how seriously you’re taking this. This is why I wanted to offer the job to you. You’re very…” He clears his throat, again. “…detail-oriented.”
The way he says so sounds veryoff, and I’m not sure if he’s being sincere or insulting. Cautious, I move my hands from my front to my back and toy with my apron straps. “You’re offering a lot of money for this position. The best I can do is make sure I treat it with respect.”
“Right.” He turns. “Have you seen enough of your living area, or would you like to do a more in-depth inspection?”
I scan the kitchen, the living room, the short hall leading to the open bedroom doors. It’s probably twice the size of my current apartment. Everything looks expensive, and clean, and untouched.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think that this whole place, right down to the building, was new.
“No,” I say. “It’s worlds better than where I’m living now, and I think I’d be very comfortable here.”
“Great.” He opens the front door leading out to the paved pool area. “In that case, let’s talk further expectations and go over the contract in my office.”
Blowing out a breath, I toddle after him, four of my paces equaling perhaps a solid half of his. All the while, I replayit’s fine, this is finein my skull, hoping that once I make it to his lavish office, I’ll believe myself.
?
Swallowed by one of the two massive leather chairs set on either side of a long rectangle coffee table perpendicular to thegiant black glass corner desk, I try not to let my nerves run rampant.
All of a sudden, this feels like an interview.
And Isuckat interviews.
Reclining easily in the chair across from me, Mr. Anders plants his elbow on the armrest and runs his thumb nail across his lips. He’s been watching me like that for ten minutes as he answers all my questions with a curtness that makes my stomach twist.
It feels like I’m bothering him. Like I’m keeping him from all the very important things that are currently splayed on his desk right now.
I need to wrap this up.
But Icannotaccept a job for a man in his position without knowingexactlywhat will be required of me. He’ll be paying me so much money. I can’t make a single mistake with the kind of pay he’s offering. I’m genuinely not sure I’m qualified for this.
Lowering my phone where I’ve been logging everything in a Google document, I say, “Sorry if this is annoying. This is the biggest position I’ve ever been offered. I want to make sure I’m capable of doing it right.”
“You are not annoying.” His chin lifts. “Is there anything else?”
Loads probably, but they’re all things I don’t even know exist. I am not looking forward to learning about them later. The amount of research I did just to work at Maid for You is insane. If I’m going to be managing this house—entirely, from cleaning to personal shopping to maintenance—I’m going to need to study so much. “That’s about all I know to think of. If there’s anything I’m missing, though, please tell me.”
“You’ve gone above and beyond my expectations. If there’s anything else that comes up, we can tackle it at that point in time.” Leaning his hulking mass forward, he pushes the setof papers in the center of the coffee table toward me. “Please take a moment to review the contract and work agreement. If everything seems acceptable with the understanding I’ll have it updated to include allowance for your current household to move in before we sign, I’d appreciate you coordinating with me when I should call my notary to make these terms official. Immediately following that, please put your transfer into my care in motion with your current employer.”
“Of course. Perfect. Thank you.” My heart thumps against my ribs as I reach for the papers, skim them once, twice, and finally get my eyes to focus on reallyreading.
Wow.
Benefits.
I’ve never had benefits before.
And now they’re…they’re incredible.
I’ve never seen insurance this good. He’s providing dental? And starting me with twenty days of PTO a year? There’s asign-on bonus? Is that a 401(k) plan?
My eyes might bug.
“I’m happy to negotiate anything that doesn’t meet your standards.”
My bugged eyes pin on Damion Anders.
