5. Kaitlyn
5
KAITLYN
“ T ell me where you’re headed again,” Adam said as I handed him the keys to my apartment. I was lucky to find a subletter that I knew and trusted. “Temporary private counseling?”
I adjusted my new, normal glasses. Thankfully my optometrist had been able to take the lenses from my broken pair and pop them into some similar frames they had on hand in time for my first day on the job.
I’d sworn my undying devotion to them when I picked up the subtle copper-colored metal glasses. And then I’d left a five star review for them online, complete with a five paragraph essay about what miracle workers they were.
It was possible I’d gone a bit overboard. But I really was grateful. In addition to being inherently silly, those pink glasses were now forever linked to memories of James, and the feel of his body over mine.
And that was not what I wanted to think about while I was starting my new job.
I dragged my thoughts back to the man standing in front of me. As a fellow counselor at the New Horizons Clinic, Adam was well aware I couldn’t get into the specifics of my new gig—but he was also an avid gossip, so I wasn’t surprised he was pushing for as much info as I was willing to share. “Yup. It’s a six-month position and it pays well enough to get me finally ahead of some of those student loan payments.”
“Lucky you,” he said, glancing at the last two boxes stacked in the sunny lobby of my apartment building.
“Yeah, it sort of feels like a dream job. I’m excited.”
I was more than excited. After reading through the case files, I was convinced that I could make a difference with the patient. Plus, it was a chance to reset the course of my life. I’d finally be done treading water, living paycheck to paycheck. I would be one step closer to my PhD and eventually opening my own private practice.
“Where is it?”
I bit my lip before answering. If Adam had been envious before, he was about to turn positively green.
“Indian Creek Island.”
His eyes bugged out behind his glasses. “Are you kidding me? Billionaire Bunker? I bet that case is a doozy. More money, more problems. Doesn’t matter what the kid is facing, I’m guessing you’ll be dealing with narcissistic tendencies or paranoid personality disorder in the parent—and maybe in the kid, too.” He let out a low whistle. “Hmm, could it be early onset ADHD? OCD?”
“You’re not even close, but that’s all I can say.”
The truth was I could’ve sketched out the big picture for him, but I’d always gone above and beyond to protect the privacy of my patients. Even though I hadn’t met this one yet, I was already invested. My heart had ached as I’d read through the case file.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your apartment while you’re off coddling the richies,” Adam said with a smirk. “Are they putting you up somewhere?”
“They said I’d have a room in the guest wing.”
Adam shook his head again. “Like I said, good luck with that one.”
“Thanks,” I answered breezily as I picked up the boxes and headed for my car. I wasn’t about to let him knock me off my game.
I thought about my patient as I made the drive. I’d dealt with similar cases before, so I wasn’t concerned about my ability to handle the child’s crippling anxiety. I was more concerned about whether the little girl would be willing to let me in. That part of the healing process could take time, and hopefully the family members would be able to recognize that and not get impatient or annoyed if there weren’t visible changes right away. Adam was right in that things could rapidly get complicated with VIP patients. I’d dealt with a few throughout my career, and I knew they could be demanding, exacting, and yes, frustrating as hell if they didn’t get their way.
I mentally prepared myself to establish expectations for everyone before I got to work.
The closer I got to the address programmed into my phone, the more conspicuous my sensible Honda felt. I passed a Bentley, a gigantic Cadillac SUV with blacked-out windows, and a low- profile red sportscar that looked like it belonged on a race track. When I arrived at the address, I wasn’t surprised by the tall iron gate at the end of the driveway, but the fierce expression on the security guy staring me down was more than a little intimidating. He strode to my car with one hand touching his hip.
“Miss Thorn, may I see your ID?”
I handed it over obediently, and he examined it like it held the secrets of the universe.
“Glasses off, please.”
I was actually wearing my glasses in the picture, so I wasn’t sure why he needed them off. To make sure my eye color matched the description, maybe?
“Okay,” he finally said, glancing between the photo and my face a few more times. “You can go through. Vida will meet you at the front door and get you settled.”
“And what’s your name?” I asked, sliding my glasses back on as I squinted up at him in the sunlight.
He looked startled by the question.
“I’m going to be here for a while so we might as well get to know one another, right?” I shoved my hand out the window toward him, and he stared at it like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.
“I’m… I’m Miguel,” he stuttered, finally grasping my hand and giving it a shake. Finally, finally a smile cracked through his hard expression.
Victory! I didn’t want to feel like I was crossing hostile territory every time I left the compound to get groceries. I wanted this scary guy to be my ally.
“Nice to meet you, Miguel! I guess we’ll be seeing quite a bit of each other for the next few months.”
He gave me a nod before he pulled a small remote control out of his pocket and hit a button, causing the gate to slowly roll open. I headed in.
When the home finally came into view at the end of the driveway I swallowed hard, because it wasn’t a house—it was a mansion . Blinding white in the sunshine, I had to let my eyes adjust to the grandeur. It seemed to go on forever, a wing here, a balcony there, and tall arched windows everywhere. I’d been expecting something flashy and over-the-top, but there was nothing gaudy about the place. Every inch of it was perfection, from the bricked driveway to the manicured grounds.
I parked in the shade of a massive palm tree, took a steadying breath, and headed for the marble steps. I wasn’t surprised to see a figure hovering just beyond the glass door. Probably the “Vida” Miguel had mentioned. The file had said the girl’s mother wasn’t in the picture, so I could only assume Vida was the housekeeper or maybe an assistant.
The door swung open as I fumbled to put on my glasses, and I was finally greeted by a genuine smile. The petite gray-haired woman with a smooth, low bun was positively beaming at me. I was pleased to see that she wasn’t wearing a traditional dress uniform, but instead was in a black t-shirt and khaki pants. It suggested that the owner didn’t feel the need to force an obvious hierarchy on the place.
“Welcome, Miss Thorn, we’re so happy that you’re here. I’m Vida Diaz.” She held out her hand, and when I grasped it she cupped it gently.
“It’s lovely to meet you, please call me Kaitlyn!”
I stepped into the foyer and tried not to gasp. It was as elegant as a five-star hotel, with a suspended, glass-enclosed staircase that seemed to float along the wall and a chandelier made from long glass daggers. The space was all hushed creams, whites, and grays, designed to put the spotlight on what was just beyond it: massive sliding doors that opened to the blue waters of Biscayne Bay.
Actually, the decorating style reminded me a little of James’ penthouse. What little I’d seen of it, anyway.
The thought rattled me.
Don’t think about him, I told myself sternly. He’s a mistake that doesn’t matter. This job matters.
“I’ll have someone unload your things and bring them to your room,” Vida said. “Let’s start with a tour of the property.”
I nodded and tried to pretend I wasn’t completely overwhelmed by what I’d just gotten myself into—or distracted by an asshole of a man I was never going to see again.
“We usually keep those doors open,” she said, pointing to the massive sliders that opened to the bay. “Mr. Morris doesn’t mind that the AC has to work overtime to keep it comfortable in here, he loves bringing the outside in.”
“That can’t be good for the environment,” I muttered. “Wasting all that energy.”
Luckily, Vida laughed.
I didn’t realize I was frozen in place staring at the gorgeous view outside until Vida called to me.
“There’s plenty more to see, please follow me!”
I jogged to catch up with her. As we speed walked through, I noticed there was nothing that revealed what the owner was like, or even the fact that a child lived there.
“I notice there aren’t any family photos around?” I asked, feeling a sense of foreboding.
“Mr. Morris is an intensely private man,” Vida said. “This is the library. Or sky -brary, as our young Miss Morris calls it. See?”
Vida stepped into the spacious room and pointed up. Sure enough, the ceiling was made of glass and brought the bright blue sky into the space. I glanced around at the books lining the room and judging from the spines, they were geared more for adults than a child. “Does Mr. Morris read a lot?”
Vida laughed. “I think he wishes he could. He’s a very busy man. Let’s keep walking.”
She was halfway down the long hallway, pointing out rooms as we sped past. “Formal dining room, sitting room, that area leads to the bar and brick oven on the veranda. The kitchen is down that way. You might wind up spending some time in the kitchen, a certain young lady likes to hang out with us in there.” She winked at me.
I was still trying to process everything I was seeing, but Vida didn’t stop moving through the sprawling estate. “The gym and infrared sauna are down those stairs. I’m going to take you up one of the back staircases since your room will be on the staff side of the house. But don’t worry, you’ll be very comfortable.”
“How much live-in staff is here?”
“Mr. Morris has an extensive team, including a full security detail, chef, housekeepers, and gardeners, but you and I are the only live-ins at the moment. He has enough rooms for four if necessary.”
Four extra rooms for live-in staff, plus however many staff members left at the end of the day. I could barely comprehend it. After a quick walk-through of the beautiful room that would be mine for the next six months, we headed down the hall to the main staircase in the foyer.
“Mr. Morris will meet you in his home office after he finishes a conference call,” Vida said over her shoulder. “What can I get you to drink? Are you hungry? Would you like a snack?”
My stomach turned over at the thought of food. I needed to acclimate to my new life before I could even think of eating. “Water would be great, thanks.”
Vida led me down yet another corridor and ushered me into yet another elegant room. I tried to count how many I’d seen to calm my nerves, but the sheer vastness and richness of the estate was the opposite of comforting.
“Please make yourself comfortable and Mr. Morris will be right in. I’ll be back with your water and something to nibble on.”
I still had half a dozen questions I wanted to ask her, the most important one being where the little girl was. I’d signed the hiring paperwork already, but the fact that I hadn’t met her or her father yet made me worry that this job could vanish out from under me if the father talked to me and decided I wasn’t the best fit for the job. I hadn’t met him yet, which was both surprising and not. I understood he was a busy, important person so of course, he had his security staff and personal assistant take care of my vetting process.
On the other hand, why wouldn’t he want to sit down with me to make sure I was a fit for him ? I mean, I was going to be working closely with him as treatment progressed, and I was going to live in his home, so why wouldn’t he want to make sure we at the very least liked one another?
I strolled around the room, trying to get rid of my nerves. The room was a calming white oasis, with just a single framed photograph on the desk. As I drew closer, I saw it was a photo of a blonde little girl with bright blue eyes, and the biggest smile I’d ever seen.
That must be the daughter , I thought.
I stared down at the photo, my sense of unease growing. She was adorable but… why did those blue eyes look so familiar?
I tore my eyes away from the photo, making myself scan the rest of the room.
There wasn’t a single sheet of paper on the desk, just a closed laptop. The giant painting behind the desk was a series of white and black scrawls that didn’t make sense to me but I’m sure cost more than my car. Given the apparent open-door policy throughout the estate, it wasn’t surprising that the sliding doors were thrown wide.
I walked out to the balcony and immediately regretted it when the bright sun left me squinting. Like the balcony at Bloom, this one had been decorated with vibrant, tropical plants. One of them must have been the same type of flower, because it even smelled like that night on the balcony with James. Rich and heady and liked nothing I’d ever experienced.
At least until he’d thrown me out, utterly unwanted. That part had felt far too familiar.
I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake off the bad memories.
This is a dream job, I reminded myself. Get your head in the game. You’re about to meet your new boss.
Footsteps sounded behind me, so I turned, eyes still half closed against the blinding sun, determined to compose myself so I could make a good first impression. I could see a man-shaped form heading toward me.
Why did I keep finding myself on balconies, surprised by men stepping out of the shadows?
Argh!!! Don’t. Think. About. That.
“Hello, I’m Kaitlyn Thorn,” I said, reminding myself to smile. “It’s great to finally meet you, Mr. Morris.”
I stepped back inside, my eyes slowly adjusted to the difference in light, and realized that the man had frozen. A three-second count later, I realized why.
“Katie.”
“ James ?”
No. It couldn’t be. This had to be some sort of mistake.
But my stomach twisted with the sick realization that this was really happening. This was why so many things about this house felt eerily familiar, from the décor, to the plants on his office balcony, to those blue eyes looking up at me from the photo on his desk.
Mr. James Morris was my boss.
The man who’d kicked me out of his bed a few nights before was going to sign my paychecks.
Fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuckerson.