Nanny and the Beast

1. Emma

EMMA

T here’s no turning back now.

I’m already at the mansion gates. The wrought-iron frame reaches up toward the sky like a skeleton hand, looking ominous against the gray sky.

The gargoyles perched on the stone pillars on either side of the gates seem to follow me with their gaze as I approach.

I press the button for the intercom.

“Hello?” I say.

I hear the sound of deep breathing on the other end.

“I’m Emma. I’m here for the nanny interview?”

There aren’t any cameras here, but I still get the feeling of being watched by someone. Or something . A shiver passes down my spine.

It feels like a warning—that I should leave before it’s too late.

I consider heading back inside the warmth of my car when the crunch of gravel catches my attention. A sleek black Benz emerges from the driveway. A tall man in a dark suit steps out of the car.

The gates finally click open.

“Hello, Miss Turner,” he says. “My name is William. I’m here to escort you to the mansion.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” I say, pointing at the old Civic behind me. “I have a car.”

“Outside vehicles are not permitted beyond the gates, I’m afraid,” he says.

The gargoyles seem to be watching me, waiting to see what I’ll do.

I’m way out of my element here. This house is all dark elegance and old money. I don’t belong in places like this. I don’t belong with these people.

But I’m here for a reason.

And I can’t leave without at least showing up for the interview.

“Okay,” I say, stepping forward.

William helps me into the car and closes the door after me. The dark leather interiors are a stark contrast to the torn upholstery of my own car.

The engine purrs to life underneath me, vibrating like a quiet beast.

I hold my breath as we enter the driveway. The twisted branches of the overhanging trees have formed a canopy, making it even darker and colder. It feels like we’ve entered an endless tunnel that’s a portal to another world.

When we emerge from the driveway, I see Sinclair mansion for the first time.

It’s a Gothic stone structure that has stood the test of time. Overgrown ivy spills down the walls, cloaking the mansion in its embrace.

We drive around the circular basin of the fountain. Two stone dragons come into view. They appear to be mid-flight with their wings spread. The fountain releases a fine mist, giving it a moody, fog-like atmosphere. Lily pads float in the water below.

The car comes to a stop.

I rip my gaze from the fountain when the front doors open. A girl comes flying down the marble stairs, clutching a folder to her chest. From the way she’s dressed, I assume she was also here for the interview.

A guard steps forward and pulls the car door open for me. I climb out onto the gravel.

The girl is headed in my direction, but her eyes are glued to the ground. She looks on the verge of tears.

I should probably mind my own business, but something compels me to step in the girl’s path.

“Hey, are you okay?” I ask.

She stops walking and lifts her gaze toward me. A tremor runs through her slender frame as she swipes the tears from her lashes.

“Are you here for the nanny position?” she asks. When I nod, she says quietly, “Don’t go inside. It’s not worth it.”

Without waiting for my response, she heads toward another parked car. I stare at her until she disappears from view.

Her words echo in my head as I walk up the marble stairs.

I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t absolutely have to.

I step over the threshold and into the mansion. A heavy feeling sinks into my bones. People talk in Ravenwood. I’ve heard whispers about the master of the house.

Klaus Sinclair.

They say he’s a recluse. An arrogant, wealthy snob. A monster.

And I’m about to head into the monster’s den.

A curvy woman in a purple skirt suit greets me at the bottom of a sweeping staircase.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” she asks.

“Emma,” I say. “Emma Turner.”

She flicks her pen against the notepad she’s holding.

“Come with me.” She heads up the stairs. I follow her, trying not to gawk at all the luxury around me.

The inside of the mansion is hauntingly beautiful, almost otherworldly. But at the same time, something about it is unsettling. It feels like it’s alive and trying to tell me something.

“I’m Helena, by the way,” she says, breaking the dark pattern of my thoughts. “I’m the head housekeeper.”

“Nice to meet you, Helena,” I say, smiling at her.

“You were sent by Hendricks Agency, right?” she asks.

“Yes, I was.”

“Victoria and I go way back.”

“You know Mrs. Hendricks?”

“Sure do,” she says. “Both of us grew up in Ravenwood. We even went to the same high school.”

She smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She seems troubled by something.

We reach the top of the staircase.

“Can I ask you something?” I say.

“Of course.”

“What happened to the kid’s parents?”

Her entire demeanor shifts. Her face hardens before she turns away from me.

“It was a car accident,” she says.

The entire town knows about the car accident. An early morning jogger found the car. It was damaged beyond repair, but there were no bodies found. The case mystified even the police.

One of the two people in the car was Seraphina Sinclair, Klaus Sinclair's sister.

“Were the?—”

“Please watch your step here,” Helena says, cutting me off. The floor beneath me has been freshly mopped.

I take the hint. She doesn’t want to talk about the accident.

The rest of our walk is in silence.

She leads me down what feels like a maze of corridors before stopping in front of one of the doors.

“This is Mr. Sinclair’s office.” She knocks once before pushing the double doors open for me.

The atmosphere here is even darker than the rest of the house. There’s a chill in the air that I feel all the way down to my bones.

My eyes immediately land on the man.

He’s sitting in a wingback chair like a king on his throne. He’s shrouded by shadows. I can’t make out his face, but I can tell he’s much bigger than the average man. In fact, he’s enormous.

The doors shut behind me.

I’m all alone with Klaus Sinclair, the master of the house.

“Have a seat, Miss Turner,” he growls.

His voice feels like electricity passing through my body. I have a strange impulse to bolt. Everything about him feels dangerous, yet it only heightens my curiosity.

I walk toward him. The light kisses the lower half of his face. I make out a square jaw covered in thick, dark stubble.

“Hello, Mr. Sinclair.” I extend my hand toward him.

His lips curl with disgust, like touching me is something that’s beneath him.

My heart pounds in my chest as I drop into the armchair before him.

There’s a whole table between us, but it doesn’t do anything to calm my nerves. Some primal part of me tells me that he’s a predator. And I’m his next meal.

I lean forward to hand him my résumé.

He hisses through his teeth. I can’t see his eyes, but I feel his gaze on my body.

I realize that the top two buttons of my blouse have come undone, revealing more skin than I intended.

I feel too self-conscious to fix it in front of him, so I leave my papers on the table between us and sit up straighter.

I can’t stop my nipples from pebbling under his gaze, though.

“Leave,” he barks. “Now.”

There’s a lethal edge to his voice that makes me freeze.

“You haven’t even seen my?—”

“I learned everything I need to know about you,” he says. “You’re dismissed.”

What the hell?

Humiliation makes my cheeks burn. This man can’t be for real.

I drove an hour to get here. Even if he thinks I’m not fit for the job, he at least owes me an interview.

I stand and lean forward to gather my things.

A deep, guttural growl escapes his chest.

The nerve of this man.

He’s sitting there like he owns the entire world. He’s not just rude to me. He was rude to the girl he interviewed before me as well.

I’m about to leave, but some force stops me in my tracks.

If I’m not going to get the job anyway, I might as well give him a piece of my mind.

“You know what? I don’t care who you are or how much money you have. You need to learn how to treat people with respect.”

He stands now.

Light falls on his face, and I see him for the first time. And absolutely nothing could have prepared me for it.

A ripple of desire passes through my entire body. Something awakens inside my core, making me restless and achy all over.

He’s tall, muscular, and so much older than me. He has dark wavy hair and whiskey eyes that make me feel intoxicated. A long scar runs down the right side of his face, from his forehead to his cheekbone.

He exudes male dominance, and it’s so potent that I have to take a step back.

“Is that right?” he says.

“Yes.” The one word comes out with more courage than I currently possess.

“Respectfully, Miss Turner, this job isn’t right for you.”

“You haven’t even looked at my résumé.”

“I didn’t have to,” he replies, giving no further explanation.

A part of me wants to challenge him, but I know that whatever he has to say about me can’t be kind. He’s looking at me like I’m a critter that crawled into his house uninvited.

“Then I guess we have nothing further to discuss.” I turn away before he can see the tears in my eyes.

I can feel him watching me as I walk away. His gaze is like fire skimming against my skin—hot and dangerous. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anybody before.

I’ve never met a more disrespectful man in my life.

I’ve never been so attracted to one, either.

As I leave his office, I feel a sense of loss. As infuriating and degrading as that man was, I could see that there was more to him than what met the eye. I was curious about him. He was a story I wanted to flip through.

Helena is waiting for me outside.

She looks up at me expectantly. Her face falls when she sees me.

“Your boss is an asshole.”

“I can’t argue with that.” She purses her lips as she leads me away from the office.

“Does he treat everyone like they’re beneath him?”

“He’s just…misunderstood,” she replies.

“Or he’s just full of himself.”

There’s a loud crash from the ground floor. Helena hurries toward the staircase. I glance down to see two little kids standing before a broken glass sculpture. The little boy is crying, and his older sister tries to console him.

The boy kneels to pick up one of the glass shards.

Some instinct inside me kicks into place.

“Don’t touch it,” I shout as I race down the stairs.

The boy startles and spins around to face me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break it,” he says, balling his small fists in front of his eyes.

“Of course you didn’t, sweetie.” I stop before him.

“It was a mistake.” He’s crying even harder now.

“I know it was,” I say. “And it’s okay to make mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.”

He peeks up at me.

“Are you hurt?” I ask him.

He holds his hand out toward me. There’s a thin red scrape on the inside of his palm. His chin quivers as I examine it. He’s trying so hard to be strong.

“What’s your name?” I ask to distract him.

“James,” the little boy whispers.I know from the job description that he’s only six years old.

“My name is Emma,” I say. “Do you like superheroes, James?”

He nods.

“They get hurt all the time, too,” I say. “But they’re strong like you, so they know they’ll always get better.”

He nods like he agrees with my sage wisdom.

But then his gaze shifts upward to the second floor. A shadow of sadness crosses his face, along with an emotion I can’t identify.

I look up to see Klaus Sinclair standing there, watching our interaction.

Something shifts inside my chest. The sudden surge of emotion is confusing as hell to say the least.

I look back at the kid.

“I have to go now, James,” I say, “but it was nice meeting you.”

“Stay,” James whispers, peeking up at me. “I like you.”

“I like you, too,” I say. “But I have to go home now.”

“We can watch superhero movies together,” he says. He’s still holding my hand.

His older sister charges forward and pulls him away.

Like her uncle, she watches me with disdain. Like I’m unworthy of her time and attention.

Like her uncle, I recognize a pain in her eyes that’s manifesting in ugly ways.

I take a deep breath.

This family is not my problem. I’m not going to stay in a place where I’m not welcome. I need the money, but I value my self-respect more.

My heart is heavy as I walk away from the kids.

Away from their arrogant guardian.

Away from the haunted house.