Chapter 3
?
There’s benefits, and then there’s benefits. Somehow, these are benefits.
Mirabelle
This is not the pool house I remember. Not at all. Not even remotely. For starters, did it get…bigger? Like, loads bigger. Like it’s a second house bigger. Not a two-story house, but a modest, comfortable, two-bedroom house.
It is also, you know, clean. Even though I have never stepped foot into this soft blue paradise to clean it. Sunshine floods through the large windows across the granite kitchen countertop, and I run my fingers absently over the smooth rock face.
Behind me, Mr. Anders breaks the silence via clearing his throat, and I jump because I forgot he was there.
“Feel free to change anything you don’t like,” he says, as though I’ve already agreed to live here, when I haven’t.
“I’d prefer any company be gone by ten or…
” His eyes roam the ceiling. “…not loud.”
Company. Right.
My eyes trail toward the open bedroom doors. Two bedrooms. A bed in each.
Things are moving a lot faster than I anticipated.
Fixing my I’m not freaking out over the possibility of living here smile on my face, I say, “The thing is, sir, I am interested in taking this job, but I have a roommate right now, and she relies on my income to afford where we’re living.
It’ll take some time to coordinate a different living situation for her…
” Unless… My tongue ties around the word, suddenly hyperaware I’m about to ask a man with a two hundred billion dollar net worth if I can have a roommate here.
“She?” he says.
“My best friend.” Maybe it’ll matter to him that she also works at Maid for You? At least then he’ll know she’s also been background checked and all that fun stuff. “We’re with the same maid-for-hire company and started living together shortly after I got the position.”
His hand lifts and clamps to his mouth. “Not a boyfriend, then?” His gaze drops to roam the spotless tile.
“That’s fine. Bring her. There’s two bedrooms.” While I’m trying to catch my breath over the fact I didn’t have to ask if she could move in with me, his gray eyes hit mine, sharp. “I only need one housekeeper, though.”
Panic floods my chest, and I throw up my hands. “No, I know. I’m not asking you to also offer her a job.” My lashes flutter as my brain short circuits. “Are you sure it’s okay for her to move with me? Would she need to pay rent, or anything like that?”
“No, it can be included in your benefits. One more person living here makes very little difference to me, so long as she isn’t loud past ten.”
Wow. Okay.
That seems too good to be true.
Nevertheless, I find myself warming up to this idea if it means that Fawn and I can live in this beautiful little home and have our own bedrooms. The panic in my chest remains, but it’s quieter as I manage my expression and lock my hands together in front of my frilly purple apron. “Can we go over job expectations?”
His chin lifts a fraction of an inch. “I had an assistant pull together a contract last week. We can review it in my office.”
“Oh.” I straighten. “Wow. You’re on top of things.”
He arches a brow at me.
I stammer, “I mean, of course you are. You probably can’t be a billionaire if you aren’t on top of things, but I just wasn’t expecting you to have a contract pulled together already or anything, considering it could have been wasted energy if I’d decided against taking the position.
Not that you wouldn’t need a contract for whoever you would end up hiring, though.
I suppose, in that way, the only wasted energy would be printing it out again with a different name…
which isn’t that bad…and it’s good to be prepared.
I guess my comment was a little stupid.”
“I pay Forrest well to waste his energy on my behalf,” he gruffs.
Actually gruffs.
So I swallow, going somehow more rigid. “I wasn’t actually talking about going over a contract, though.
I’d like to discuss your expectations for the household.
Daily tasks. Foods you like. Foods you can’t stand.
If I’m doing your meals and meal planning, I assume I’ll be handling the menu and shopping, which means I’ll need to know whether or not certain things are forbidden to cross your palate.
Also, dietary restrictions. Allergies. Calorie expectations.
Meal times. Will you need snacks? You…” I glance over him.
Big. Tall. Muscles. “How much protein should I aim for each day?” And is the answer all of it?
“I need to know your macro goals to more effectively gear the menu to your health needs. And to what end does my role extend? Am I just managing cleaning and meals, or do I need to anticipate event planning, catering, total home maintenance and management? If the sink gets a leak, am I telling you, or am I the one researching on who to call to get it fixed? What are the budgets across the board?” I freeze when I realize I have more than run out of air.
Filling my burning lungs, I slow my words down.
“I just have…a lot of questions still, before I’m ready to look at a contract or anything. ”
His lips part, and he stares at me for a good long while.
Then he gently shakes his head, and something about his voice gives more gruff than it even did before, which unsettles me, because I don’t know what I’ve done wrong this time.
“I appreciate how seriously you’re taking this.
This is why I wanted to offer the job to you.
You’re very…” He clears his throat, again. “…detail-oriented.”
The way he says so sounds very off, and I’m not sure if he’s being sincere or insulting. Cautious, I move my hands from my front to my back and toy with my apron straps. “You’re offering a lot of money for this position. The best I can do is make sure I treat it with respect.”
“Right.” He turns. “Have you seen enough of your living area, or would you like to do a more in-depth inspection?”
I scan the kitchen, the living room, the short hall leading to the open bedroom doors. It’s probably twice the size of my current apartment. Everything looks expensive, and clean, and untouched.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think that this whole place, right down to the building, was new.
“No,” I say. “It’s worlds better than where I’m living now, and I think I’d be very comfortable here.”
“Great.” He opens the front door leading out to the paved pool area. “In that case, let’s talk further expectations and go over the contract in my office.”
Blowing out a breath, I toddle after him, four of my paces equaling perhaps a solid half of his. All the while, I replay it’s fine, this is fine in my skull, hoping that once I make it to his lavish office, I’ll believe myself.
?
Swallowed by one of the two massive leather chairs set on either side of a long rectangle coffee table perpendicular to the giant black glass corner desk, I try not to let my nerves run rampant.
All of a sudden, this feels like an interview.
And I suck at interviews.
Reclining easily in the chair across from me, Mr. Anders plants his elbow on the armrest and runs his thumb nail across his lips. He’s been watching me like that for ten minutes as he answers all my questions with a curtness that makes my stomach twist.
It feels like I’m bothering him. Like I’m keeping him from all the very important things that are currently splayed on his desk right now.
I need to wrap this up.
But I cannot accept a job for a man in his position without knowing exactly what will be required of me. He’ll be paying me so much money. I can’t make a single mistake with the kind of pay he’s offering. I’m genuinely not sure I’m qualified for this.
Lowering my phone where I’ve been logging everything in a Google document, I say, “Sorry if this is annoying. This is the biggest position I’ve ever been offered. I want to make sure I’m capable of doing it right.”
“You are not annoying.” His chin lifts. “Is there anything else?”
Loads probably, but they’re all things I don’t even know exist. I am not looking forward to learning about them later.
The amount of research I did just to work at Maid for You is insane.
If I’m going to be managing this house—entirely, from cleaning to personal shopping to maintenance—I’m going to need to study so much.
“That’s about all I know to think of. If there’s anything I’m missing, though, please tell me. ”
“You’ve gone above and beyond my expectations.
If there’s anything else that comes up, we can tackle it at that point in time.
” Leaning his hulking mass forward, he pushes the set of papers in the center of the coffee table toward me.
“Please take a moment to review the contract and work agreement. If everything seems acceptable with the understanding I’ll have it updated to include allowance for your current household to move in before we sign, I’d appreciate you coordinating with me when I should call my notary to make these terms official.
Immediately following that, please put your transfer into my care in motion with your current employer. ”
“Of course. Perfect. Thank you.” My heart thumps against my ribs as I reach for the papers, skim them once, twice, and finally get my eyes to focus on really reading.
Wow.
Benefits.
I’ve never had benefits before.
And now they’re…they’re incredible.
I’ve never seen insurance this good. He’s providing dental? And starting me with twenty days of PTO a year? There’s a sign-on bonus? Is that a 401(k) plan?
My eyes might bug.
“I’m happy to negotiate anything that doesn’t meet your standards.”
My bugged eyes pin on Damion Anders.
All business, he’s latched his fingers together before his black dress shirt, the picture of intimidation.
Naturally, I blurt, “Isn’t this too much?”
He blinks.
“Eleven days PTO is standard, and this health insurance—it’s platinum.
Wouldn’t that be, like, seven thousand dollars a month?
The sign-on bonus is outrageous, and you never even mentioned it before now!
Isn’t that the sort of thing you mention to someone when you’re trying to convince them to take on a job? ”
His fingers unlace. “It wasn’t my intention to coerce you into working for me, Peters, but if you do, I will take care of you the same way I take care of anyone who works in such close quarters with me. That’s given.”
That’s given? Is it? I was not aware.
My lips part, but for the first time since I started rambling this afternoon, I am at a loss for words. Until, of course, the unfiltered truth spills free. “I’d be an idiot to turn this down.”
His gaze shifts off me. “Possibly.”
“Are you sure I’m qualified enough for what you’re looking for?”
“I’m growing more sure by the minute,” he murmurs.
Well. All righty then.
Setting the papers back on the coffee table, I stand and offer him my hand. “If I do something wrong, please tell me promptly and explain how I can correct it. I am willing to learn, and I’d rather my errors be fixed swiftly so I can do better in the future.”
His gray eyes slip up to my face, then skate down my body to my hand. As he stands to tower above me, his eyelids lower. Warm and large, his fingers wrap around mine. “Would you like that term added to the paperwork before we sign?”
Yes, very much so, actually.
I whisper, “Is that a normal thing to do?”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Fair enough. I say, “Yes, I would.”
He shakes my hand. “Consider it done. Will you be available tomorrow to sign and ready in two weeks to start?”
Available tomorrow…
Hand still stuck in the cage of his, I finagle to get my phone out so I can check my calendar. “I have a free block at three between two client households.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you here then.”
“Okay.” I pocket my phone in my apron.
“Okay,” he echoes.
Still trapped by his grip, I blink and stare up at him.
Realization crosses his face, and his fingers unlock to land themselves tucked in the pocket of his dress pants. “Until tomorrow, Peters.”
Until tomorrow? I still haven’t done my job for today.
Retrieving my phone again, I check it for the time, learn that I am approaching my next job, and wince. I used my entire cleaning slot for this place jabbering about the position to clean this place. How very, dreadfully professional of me…
Not.
Oh, the irony.
“Mr. Anders, it seems I’ve missed the opportunity to clean at the designated time today. I have another house to get to now, but is there any chance you wouldn’t mind my rectifying the situation tonight, at six?”
His brows rise.
Mine furrow. “Is that…inconvenient?”
He shakes his head. “Perfectly convenient. I was not expecting you to be so diligent.”
I have spent the last few hours making sure I know exactly how many grams of protein he’s aiming for in a given day.
Where did my knack for diligence get lost, exactly?
However, knowing that question isn’t socially acceptable, I just fix a smile on my face and say, “So, I’ll see you tonight at six? ”
He nods, once, curt as ever. “Sounds great. See you then.”