Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
marlowe
“ I can’t believe we’re not cubby neighbors anymore,” Quinn laments that evening when she drops off my things. I wasn’t at the job long enough to accumulate much, so the box is practically empty. Like my checking account.
“Thanks for bringing my stuff.” I set the box down beside the secondhand couch I bought at a thrift shop. “Want a beer?”
“Sure.” Quinn follows me toward the kitchen and sits at the breakfast bar. “It sucks not having you there, Marlowe. It doesn’t feel the same.”
“I know. I’m gonna miss our coffee breaks.” I open the refrigerator and grab two low-carb beers as Sansa comes prowling over to rub against Quinn’s leg.
“Well, hello there, beautiful.” Quinn bends down and strokes Sansa’s head while cooing at her. The calico purrs in satisfaction and swishes her floofy tail.
I sigh forlornly. “She’s going to run off with you when I have to start feeding her generic cat food.”
Quinn laughs as I bring her a beer and take the stool beside her. She hitches her chin at my laptop on the counter.
“How’s the job hunting going so far?”
“Not great,” I admit. “I’ve only seen a few jobs that I qualify for. I registered with an employment agency, but they warned me that hiring slows down during the summer and it’s not the best time to apply for jobs.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Quinn says. “Hopefully something will come through. In the meantime, you should file for unemployment.”
“I know.” With another sigh, I scoop Sansa up and settle her warm bulk in my lap. She purrs contentedly, her emerald eyes closing as I scratch behind her ears.
Quinn regards me sympathetically. “Have you told your sister?”
“No,” I mumble. “I’m putting it off as long as possible.”
“Why?”
“Because I already know what she’s going to say. She’s going to tell me it’s a sign that I should come back home. And when my mom finds out, it’ll just reinforce her opinion that I’m a perennial failure. I mean, I’m the daughter who took five years to graduate college. I’m the daughter who refused to go to law school to pursue a lucrative career. I’m the daughter who picked up and moved halfway across the country without a job. I’m the fuckup who’s now unemployed, whose only prospect is working as a housekeeper for a rich douchebag.”
Quinn’s expression softens. “I’m really sorry your mom isn’t more supportive.”
I shrug off her sympathy. “I’m used to it.”
“That doesn’t make it right.” Quinn puts her hand on my shoulder. “No matter what she thinks, you’re not a failure. Moving someplace new takes guts and determination. If your mom can’t see that, you’re better off living far away from her judgy ass.”
I give her a grateful smile. “Thanks, babe.”
She squeezes my shoulder, then picks up her bottle and takes a swig of beer. “So what’s this about you working for a rich douchebag?”
I hesitate, suddenly wishing I hadn’t brought it up. “I interviewed for a live-in housekeeper job this morning. The employer turned out to be Gunner Ransom.”
Quinn almost chokes on her next swallow of beer. “ What? ” she croaks, staring at me. “Did you say Gunner Ransom? ”
I nod sullenly.
“The CEO of Pantheon?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes.”
“Oh, my God!” she exclaims incredulously. “He offered you a job as his housekeeper?”
“Not him directly,” I grumble, “but yes, I was offered the job.”
Quinn lets out an excited squeal. Startled, Sansa darts off my lap and runs for cover.
“Holy shit, Marlowe! That’s amazing! I mean, it would’ve been even awesomer if you got a job at his company, but still! ”
I throw her a surly look. “Before you break out the champagne, I turned the job down.”
“ What? ” She stares at me in disbelief. “Why the hell would you do that?”
I scowl. “It’s a long story.”
“Um, hello?” She gestures around, beaded bracelets jangling on her wrists. “I have time!”
“I’d really rather not?—”
“C’mon, Marlowe. Spill it.” She leans forward expectantly.
I know she’s not going to let it go, so I tell her what happened on Friday night. She listens without interrupting, her eyes growing bigger and bigger until they’re practically popping out of their sockets.
“Holy hell,” she breathes when I finish. “I can’t believe he did that to you. That was so messed up.”
“Tell me about it.” I take an angry swig of beer.
“No wonder you’re so pissed. What a dickwad.”
“Exactly!”
Quinn bites her lip, picking at the label on her bottle. “That said . . .”
My eyes narrow. “What?”
“Well . . .” She squirms under my death glare. “Just to be clear, I’m not excusing what he did. He was totally wrong for lying to you. It was dickish and frankly creepy. But . . . well, it sounds like you two really hit it off. Maybe you were destined to meet that night. Maybe it was no accident that Dawson was late and you mistook Gunner for him. Maybe it was kismet.”
“Oh, please,” I snort in disgust. “It wasn’t kismet.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.” I toy with my bottle and take another sip while Quinn contemplates me. I can tell she has more to say, and whatever it is, I’m not going to like it.
“Maybe you should reconsider his job offer.”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
“Um, because he’s a billionaire? And hot as fuck?” Quinn laughs. “Do you know how many people would sell their soul to work for Gunner Ransom?”
I think about my Uber driver, recalling the way he’d stared so longingly at Gunner that I almost felt sorry for him.
“I’ve seen pictures of his estate in Architectural Digest and Texas Monthly . It looks amazing.”
“It is,” I grudgingly admit.
“Damn. So not only could you have worked for the dude, you could’ve lived in his fabulous mansion?” Quinn sighs and shakes her head at me. “How much was he paying anyway?”
I shift on my stool. “A hundred thousand.”
Quinn’s jaw drops. “ A hundred thousand dollars? Are you fucking serious?”
“I was just as shocked as you are, believe me.”
“And you turned him down!”
“Can you blame me? He pretended to be my blind date, Quinn. He made out with me, knowing full well I thought he was someone else! There’s no way I could ever work for such a sleazebag. I’d have to be insane to even consider it, and I’m not insane.”
Quinn snorts. “You just turned down a six-figure job. Sounds pretty insane to me.”
I shoot her a glare.
“I’m just saying, Marlowe. Job offers like that don’t come around every day.” She pulls out her phone and starts tapping away. “According to this website, the average salary for a housekeeper in Austin is $34,567. You’re being offered nearly three times that amount!”
“I’m well aware.”
“Are you? Because I—” Quinn’s lecture is interrupted by the doorbell.
Grateful for the reprieve, I get up and walk over to open the door. There’s a local florist deliveryman holding a huge bouquet of flaming orange roses. My eyes widen in surprise.
“Marlowe Somerset?” At my nod, the deliveryman smiles and hands me the heavy vase of flowers. “Enjoy your evening.”
I thank him and close the door.
“Wow!” Quinn exclaims. “Those are stunning! Who sent them?”
“I have no idea.” I carry the arrangement to the breakfast bar and set it down, then reach for the attached card.
My pulse quickens as I read the note: I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. In the spirit of starting over, my name is Gunner. I regret lying to you that night, but I have no regrets about meeting you. P.S. The job offer still stands.
Everything inside me wants to melt into a puddle of forgiveness, but I staunchly resist. Gunner Ransom took advantage of me that night. He made a fool of me. He can’t weasel his way into my good graces by sending flowers, no matter how exquisitely beautiful they are.
“Well?” Quinn eyes me excitedly. “Don’t keep me in suspense. Who’s your secret admirer?”
I hesitate. “Him.”
“Him? You mean . . .” She stares at my sour expression, her eyes going wide. “No way!”
I hand her the card.
She reads it quickly and proceeds to swoon. “Oh, my God, Marlowe! This is so romantic!”
“Romantic?” I echo scornfully.
“Yes! He sent you flowers! Unbelievably gorgeous flowers that obviously cost some serious moolah. I mean, look at them. I’ve never seen roses that color before.”
Neither have I, but I’d sooner die than admit it.
Quinn holds up the card, her eyes twinkling. “He’s clearly into you, Marlowe.”
I snort. “He’s not into me. The creep just wants to finish what we started that night.”
“I’m sure he does,” Quinn leers, wiggling her pierced eyebrows. “Can you blame him?”
I flip her off.
She laughs and shakes her head at me. “All joking aside, Mar, you need to think about the big picture here. Being Gunner Ransom’s housekeeper could open so many doors for you. If you do a great job, maybe he’ll hire you to work for his company. Or he could use his connections to get you an amazing job with an ensemble or academic library. Hell, as a bigtime alumni donor, he could even pull strings to get you a teaching assistantship at the university since all the positions were filled by the time you applied. Seriously. Just think of all the favors he could do for you.”
“I don’t want any favors from him,” I grumble, glaring at the lavish bouquet of roses. “Besides, he doesn’t allow pets. If I take the job, I’ll have to give up Sansa.”
“Hmm. Maybe not.”
I frown at Quinn. “What do you mean?”
“What if I take over your lease?”
“Excuse me?”
“You need someone to look after Sansa, and I’ve been planning to move out of my parents’ house and find my own place. Maybe this was the nudge I needed to finally get off my ass and do it.”
I drink my beer, mulling over her proposal. I can’t deny that it would solve most of my problems. I won’t have to worry about paying rent and buying groceries if my employer provides free room and board. And with Quinn living in my apartment, I can visit Sansa whenever I want.
Quinn grins, watching the wheels turn in my head. “It’s the perfect plan. You get to work for a hot billionaire, I get my own place and Sansa gets to stay in her familiar environment. Win-win for everyone.” She beams at her ingenuity.
I wish I shared her enthusiasm, I really do. But working for Gunner Ransom is a devil’s bargain I’m not willing to make.
“Well?” Quinn presses eagerly. “What do you say?”
I roll my lips together. “I’ll think about it.”
When hell freezes over.
by the end of the week , a frozen hell is looking more and more plausible.
My rent is due next week, and my final paycheck won’t cover the full amount. I’ve applied for several jobs in my field, but their closing dates are weeks away and time is a luxury I can’t afford. It took me nearly a month to find a job when I moved here. There’s no guarantee I’ll be so lucky a second time.
I spend Friday morning scouring internet job sites. After several hours, I’m feeling a little stir crazy. I need some fresh air and a change of scenery. So I throw on some jogging shorts, lace up my sneakers and go for a run to clear my head.
I moved close to the university so I’d have an easy commute to school. My apartment complex isn’t as nice as some of the newer ones built in recent years. But the rent is affordable, which is all that mattered to me when I relocated with six thousand dollars in my checking account. The bulk of that money had been given to me as graduation gifts. The rest I’d managed to save from my housekeeping job. All that’s left is two hundred bucks and some change.
I push the depressing thought aside as I hit the jogging trail, the soles of my sneakers slapping against the sun-baked pavement. I’ve barely worked up a good sweat when my phone rings through my earbuds, interrupting the Billie Eilish song I was listening to.
I slow down and pull the phone out of my pocket. I don’t recognize the number on the screen. Maybe it’s an employer calling to set up an interview.
I remove my earbuds and eagerly hit the answer button. “Hello?”
“You sound out of breath,” a deep voice murmurs.
My heart thumps against my ribs. I should have known I hadn’t heard the last of him.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“There’s never a good time for you to call, creep.”
His low chuckle rumbles through me, heating my insides.
I scowl, swiping at a flyaway strand of hair as I stalk over to a shaded wooden bench and plop down. “What do you want?”
“Did you get the roses?”
“Yes,” I grumble.
“That’s good,” he murmurs. “The color reminded me of escaping flames. Scorching, brilliant, combustible. I thought they suited you perfectly.”
I try my hardest not to smile at his words.
“Did you like them?” he asks softly.
“Sure,” I say with a bitchy smirk. “I liked them so much I couldn’t wait to toss them in the trash.”
“Touché.” There’s an unmistakable grin in his voice. He knows as well as I do that I kept the damn flowers.
“What do you want?” I repeat grumpily.
“Why didn’t you tell me you lost your job?”
I narrow my eyes. “How do you know that?”
“I called your references. Your former employers spoke highly of you. Barbara, in particular, couldn’t sing your praises enough. She deeply regretted having to let you go.”
I frown. “Why did you call my references? I told you I’m not taking the job.”
Another infuriatingly sexy chuckle caresses my ear. “I thought I’d give you a few days to reconsider.”
“I haven’t reconsidered,” I snap. “I’m not interested in working for you.”
“C’mon, Marlowe,” he drawls indulgently. “We both know you need the money.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“You made it my business when you came to me for a job. Now that I know your predicament, I’m concerned about you.”
“Don’t be,” I grit out. “I’ll find something else.”
“Better than what I’m offering?”
I scowl but say nothing. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of having the upper hand, even though he clearly does.
“Tell you what,” he says silkily. “I’m feeling extra generous today, so I’ll sweeten the deal. Two hundred thousand.”
I gasp in shock, nearly dropping my phone. “ What? ”
“I’ll pay you two hundred thousand dollars to be my housekeeper.”
“Are you insane?” I shriek in disbelief. “Housekeepers don’t make that kind of money!”
“Maybe they should,” he says seriously. “They work damn hard and deserve to be well compensated for their labor.”
I definitely can’t argue with that.
“I want you to come work for me, Marlowe, and I’m willing to make it worth your while. All you have to do is say yes.”
I press a trembling hand to my forehead, trying to think, trying to remember all the reasons I shouldn’t accept his offer. It’s crazy, it’s absurd . . . but God, the things I could do with two hundred thousand dollars!
“You’re out of your mind,” I half scold, half whimper.
His low laughter grates on my jagged nerves. “You’re fresh out of college, Marlowe. You’re not going to find another employer willing to pay two hundred grand for your services, no matter how talented you may be.”
I gnaw on my bottom lip. I hate him for being right.
But I still don’t surrender.
“Why are you being so stubborn? You need my money and I need a housekeeper.” He sounds both amused and annoyed. “Don’t be a brat, Marlowe. Take the fucking job.”
“I don’t want your charity,” I grumble.
“This isn’t charity. Believe me, kitten, you’re going to earn every red cent I pay you.”
A shiver runs through my body despite the smothering summer heat.
“I’m meeting some businessmen for breakfast in a few hours,” he calmly informs me. “My job offer expires the second I hang up the phone.”
My throat dries and my heart rate goes berserk.
“I need an answer, Miss Somerset.”
“I already gave you one,” I croak. “You refuse to accept it.”
He’s silent for so long I wonder if he hung up. But no, he’s still there. I can feel him as palpably as if he’s sitting right next to me.
“Will you come work for me?” His voice is low and coaxing, snaking through my veins. “Say yes.”
I close my eyes and swallow thickly, temptation eroding the last of my resolve.
“Yes,” I whisper so softly that I can barely hear myself.
“What was that?”
“I said yes. I’ll take the job.”
“Good girl,” he croons with satisfaction. “I knew you’d come to your senses.”
I can’t help bristling at his arrogance.
“Before you start gloating,” I grit out, “let’s get a few things straight. I need this job. If I don’t work, I can’t pay my bills or keep a roof over my head. If that happens, I’ll have to pack up and return to Pittsburgh with my tail tucked between my legs. That’s not an option for me. So I’ll mop your floors, wash your laundry and scrub the shit stains out of your toilets. But if you think I’m going to be hopping into your bed at night, you’ve got another think coming.”
There’s a long silence, during which I nervously wonder if I’ve just backtalked my way out of the best-paying job I never had.
Finally he lets out a quiet chuckle. “You’re really something, Miss Somerset.”
I swallow hard. “I just?—”
“Mrs. Calder will be in touch.”
Before I can say anything else, he hangs up.