“I did this in just a few hours.” Ezra offered another of his bashful smiles.
“I’m impressed. Do you enjoy housekeeping?” Most of his employees hated even the minimal chores the managers gave them. Roman was a strong believer in the motto “if you have time to lean, you have time to clean,” and despite his current surroundings, he detested sloppiness and a job that was only half-done.
“I enjoy it very much. I like cleaning and organizing things. The same with coding. I like putting everything in order so that it makes perfect sense. Well, to me at least.” He smiled self-consciously and glanced around again. “Your home could be very beautiful.”
Roman had purchased the French Quarter townhouse a few years after Hurricane Katrina when the housing market was still in a slump. He’d hired a contractor to renovate it so that it now had floor-to-ceiling windows flooding the rooms with natural light, an open floor plan, and a kitchen that had been customized by one of his chefs with a Wolf range double oven, subzero fridge, and breakfast bar. Because of the residual aches and pains from his professional football career, he’d also installed a private spa in back with a small saltwater pool and hot tub. It was extravagant and in retrospect, somewhat wasteful, considering the amount of time he spent at home. But it was great for entertaining.
Roman grinned at the backhanded compliment. “You don’t think it’s beautiful now?”
“Well…” Ezra blinked rapidly, clearly trying to come up with something to say. “I think you’ve spent a lot of time in choosing nice things for your home, but you haven’t devoted much time in maintaining it. I understand that. When I have a big project due, I tend to neglect other areas of my life. There are only so many hours in the day, Mr. Reynolds.”
“You can call me Roman,” he said but Ezra shook his head resolutely.
“Even though you said you don’t need a housekeeper, I think there may still be potential for employment, so I’d prefer to call you Mr. Reynolds. Or sir.”
Roman was impressed by the young man’s dogged determination. And his hustle. “Why don’t we settle on sir? May I call you Ezra?” He nodded. “How long of an arrangement are you looking for, Ezra?”
“My classes will conclude next May, and by that time I hope to secure more permanent employment in my field of study, likely in another city altogether.”
A year didn’t seem like a terribly long time to Roman, as long as they got along well. The idea of helping Ezra to afford his education appealed to him, and it wouldn’t hurt to have his home well-ordered in the process.
“Well, I’ll admit that I didn’t realize you were a live-in housekeeper, but I do see how your services could be quite useful. I’m not here a lot, and the house is pretty big. I’m sure that if you lived here, there might be whole days where we didn’t see each other.”
“I hope not, sir,” he said earnestly.
Roman warmed to his obvious sincerity. “But there are some things you should know about me. I’ve been burned in the past by my… roommates. I’ve had things stolen from me. Precious things.”
“Sir, I would never—”
Roman held up one hand. “Please, let me finish.”
Ezra’s hands folded in his lap and he stared up at him with absolute obedience. Roman tried very hard not to read into it.
“Because of it, I have a rather involved security system that monitors every room of the house.” Roman had the same setup at his restaurants after he’d caught one of his line cooks lifting Delmonico steaks from the walk-in freezer.
“Every room?” Ezra asked as his eyes widened with alarm.
“Every single one. And I monitor them regularly.”
Ezra swallowed, the small knot bobbing in his slender throat. “I may have a hard time going to the bathroom if I think someone might be watching me.”
Roman chuckled at his honesty. “I can disable the camera in your bedroom and bathroom. But as for the other areas of the house...”
Ezra flushed a lovely shade of pink. “I… I’ve never lived in that sort of situation before, but I suppose I could give it a try.”
“And despite what you see here, I’m also very particular about how I like things done,” he warned.
“I’m very good at following instructions,” Ezra assured him. “As long as they’re precise.”
Roman didn’t doubt it, given his specificity in language. But if this were one of his restaurants, he’d expect his manager to ask the prospective candidate to demonstrate their abilities somehow. Well, why would this be any different?
“How do you prefer to be instructed?” Roman asked. Having been a manager of people for several years and a football quarterback before then, he knew that different people had different learning styles.
“I prefer written instructions but if that’s not available, I’d like to be guided through it verbally,” Ezra said. “And gently corrected.”
It was the “gently” that stirred a different sort of interest in Roman, or perhaps it was the combination of those two words. Regardless, Roman couldn’t imagine being anything but gentle with this man.
“How would you feel about a test run then?”
