9. Chapter 9
LUNA
Should I have just picked a fight with the Surly Bastard of a man who is most likely my new boss?
Still debating it.
I mean, who does he think he is with his deadly sex-glare and the body of a tall brunette like a superhero?
The main thing is that I spoke the truth about his behaviour last week and I shouldn’t regret giving him a piece of my mind because there is a lot I can tolerate and as much as I’m completely smitten by little Theo, I don’t like to be treated like crap so actually debate over, I don’t regret what I said on Friday and I’m happy I said what I said.
But that still doesn’t explain why I feel sick to my stomach, standing here in the middle of Oliver Walter’s living room three days later while a bunch of moving men lug all my stuff into my new bedroom.
Maybe it’s because I’m moving in with a man who simultaneously turns me on and off in a matter of seconds, or it could be that I took zero amount of joy watching my eighty-four-year-old Gran hit on the moving men as they helped me carry my boxes out of her apartment earlier.
Although the most likely reason is that this is the first time since getting that email from Nigel an hour after getting home on Friday, confirming I got the job despite my sass, that it’s now Monday morning, and it’s all starting to feel real.
So yeah, let’s go with that one.
Am I happy about getting the job? Yes, initially, I screamed after reading that I got it, jumped up and down in my bedroom, which caused Gran to come running in with a frying pan in one hand and the other over her heart. She assumed there was a bug in my room because of my scream.
But this was a happy scream for once, and after Gran slowly put the frying pan down and I explained the situation with tears streaming down my face, we both ended up screaming and jumping for joy.
And you better believe I was rudely woken up at 6 am Saturday by Gran bursting into my room with cardboard boxes that I have no idea where she got them, or the more daunting, how long she had had them, as she started packing up my room.
It was safe to say, despite the rocky start I had with the one called Oliver Walters, this job was a blessing in more ways than one.
I had flexibility, the pleasure of spending all evening with a little boy so cute it made my ovaries hurt, and I was going to be making decent money that I could put in my savings for my future.
So I continued ignoring the churn in my stomach, telling myself this is a mistake.
While the moving men move the last of my stuff upstairs, I take a proper stroll around. I didn’t get much of a chance on Friday. I look around the living room, then wonder where Oliver went. He was there to let the movers and me in, but after that, he’d disappeared somewhere in the house.
He was probably upstairs making the moving men’s day a living nightmare, so I push that to the back of my mind, and I find myself looking at the photos of Theo displayed on the wall and on the TV stand. I saw them the other day, but man, this boy just got cuter the more I look at him.
Suddenly a thought I had last week reappeared: there wasn’t a single picture of Oliver anywhere, no portraits, baby pictures or selfies with friends.
I at least suspected there to be a photo of him holding his degree since he was very confident of how well he did his job, so much that he saw no issue in pointing out the flaws of others.
Boasting about his achievements felt like a given for a man like him.
But this place was bare of Oliver, as if Theo was the only one who lived here; the room replicated a modern Ikea showroom type room, painted with his memories and his alone. Is this how this grumpy man lived before having Theo? No memorabilia, no family, just emptiness.
Before I got too deep in thought, I reeled myself back and heard the moving men calling to me by the door. They are all done moving my stuff. I made sure to kindly thank them for all their help and apologise again for the harassment they received earlier, courtesy of Gran.
They said it was no problem and that Mr Walters was still handling their payment.
However, I did wish I could have at least given them a tip or something, but the kids needed new jumpers, and the donation I made to the home meant I had little to nothing until I got paid.
I wave the movers off and close the door.
“kkam-jjak-i-ya!” I squeal, clutching my heart as I turn to find Oliver towering over me. Where the hell did he come from? He raises an eyebrow at me, probably because I just used the Korean expression for ‘you scared the shit out of me’, one I use so often that it just comes out naturally.
“Do you have a minute?” he asks while I check my heart is working.
“Y-yeah sure,” I nod, still a little breathless. He gestures for me to follow him into the kitchen, where I sit down on a stool tucked under the island.
“Would you like something to drink?” he mumbles. My stomach flutters at his gesture, but why was he acting…nice? ‘Grumpy, glaring, Surly Bastard’ I can handle, but ‘friendly, awkward boss’ offering me a drink? I can’t.
“Sure, water is fine, thanks,” I reply quietly. He pulls out a bottle of water and slides it over the counter towards me, followed by a feather-type pen and a stack of papers.
“This is your contract,” he starts.
“There will be a six-month probation period. Once you’ve passed that, we can review and investigate hiring you as Theo’s permanent nanny, should you see fit.
Feel free to take some time to go through it.
You may have a lawyer look at it if you wish, but it’s immaculate as I drew it up myself.
Do you have any questions?” He asks, but I barely hear a word.
It may have been the tailored charcoal grey suit hugging his body far too well, the way he fiddled with his football-shaped cuff-links while he talked, something that was far too attractive to my liking. Either way, I was distracted right now.
But I shake that off and pick up the contract to skim over it.
“…something’s wrong?” I whisper, flipping back and forth between two pages. Thank God, I hadn’t taken a sip of water yet; otherwise, I would have spat it all over him after what I just read.
“What is it?” He grumbles, offended by my accusation, and his surly scowl makes its immediate return. I catch him clenching his jaw in the corner of my eye. I look back down at the contract, making sure to read it for the third time, just to make sure I read it right.
I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.
Surly Bastard strides over to me, chest puffed out, ready to blow a gasket.
Like he was determined to challenge the mistake I just found, now inside my personal bubble, pressing his chest against my back, and his head hovering over my shoulder, he lets out a breath and scans his eyes over the payment page of the contract.
His overpowering scent forced its way into my nostrils. The sweet, yet musky smell mixed with fresh soap makes me feel a little light-headed by how good he smells, because, of course, this handsome grump smells good. I find myself staring at his neck for a few seconds, craving another whiff.
“U-um, i-it’s the payment section o-of the contract.” I stutter, jumping up and making sure to put a healthy six feet between us.
Get it together, Luna.
I take a deep breath, push away the butterflies waking up in my stomach, and watch him as he slowly straightens up again.
“Is it not enough?” he questions with brows raised.
“Is it not en-” I try to articulate myself, but the shock steals my words. Standing there with the contract still clutched in my hands, trembling slightly as I attempt to speak again.
“Y-you’re going to pay me fifty pounds an hour?!” I check slowly, whereas Mr Business pants over here just shrugs like that is normal minimum wage.
“Yes, just over the usual rate of a live-in nanny, and double the amount every other weekend when I am away for business, but we can discuss that in deeper lengths once it gets closer to that time n-” he pauses, watching me stumble and grip the counter to keep me upright.
“Are you alright?” he asks, watching me get around my disbelief.
“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” I wheeze. “S-so you’re saying I’ll be making an average of a thousand pounds a week?” I ask, to be sure I wasn’t dreaming right now; I mean, this was every part-time worker’s wet dream. If I knew nannies made this kind of money, I would have done this years ago.
Suddenly, Macy’s words replay in my mind.
“It’s a live-in nanny position that pays really well.” Although this wasn’t really well, this was incredibly well, astronomically well; with a salary like this, I could knock a few years off achieving my dream, once I figure out what it is.
“Yes, that is the agreed amount.” Surly Bastard confirms, probably wondering what the big deal is, because he was most likely born rich and doesn’t know the meaning of minimum wage.
Unable to understand why my newly known salary was in the process of giving me my first heart attack at the age of twenty-six.
“There will be additional hours added if Theo is ever in need of being picked up early, inset day or for any other reason listed in the Additional Payment Clause. N-” his words stop a second time when I grab the fancy fountain pen he handed me earlier and sign the contract where my name is marked.
Should I have read the terms and conditions to make sure this guy didn’t screw me over?
Probably, but I had already taken a brief look at the breach of contract page for both parties, but there was currently only one thing on my mind right now.
Minimum wage who?
There’s a brief pause of silence before Oliver clears his throat.
I can imagine, as a lawyer, seeing someone sign a legal document that quickly without reading it was odd, but I don’t regret it. To be honest, I can’t wait to look in my bank account next month and see more than double digits in it. I very well might pass out where I stand when it happens.