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“Who won, you or the broccoli?”
“Joke’s on you; it was baby carrots. I ate three.” I can hear the disgust in her voice and hold back a chuckle. She’s never liked vegetables unless they’re potatoes cut thin on the side of her chicken nuggies. Sometimes I wonder if she’s actually an adult or if she’s just a kid trapped in a woman’s body.
“I'll call you later and let you know how it went. Love you, bye.” With that, I end the call and look up at the mansion again. At least Mr. Thorpe knows how to live well - this house is stunning. The stacked stone exterior screams money and taste, and I can’t help but wonder what the inside looks like.
It's a sad comparison when I think about the state of my bank account. I'd worked so hard to build up a savings and then I just.... screwed up. But my financial hardship has nothing to do with Mr. Thorpe's wealth, and this job may be exactly what it takes to help me build up a little bit of savings all over again. With what he pays, I'll be able to help dad afford a caretaker for mom full time and still put money away.
If I can survive.
I swallow hard, feeling that lump widening in my throat as my eyes burn. If the last few weeks have taught me anything, it's that my life can completely turn upside down across the span of several days. I can lose all of my savings and my job. But here I am, still fighting. I'm not about to give up. Not now. Not ever.
With that thought running circles through my mind, I open my car door and stand up, straightening my skirt and my shirt, before running a hand over my hair to assure myself that it's nice and smooth and neat.
I worked hard to make sure I’ll make a good first impression. I'm dressed professionally and neatly. I just hope Mr. Thorpe doesn't expect brand name clothing labels, because everything I own was bought at the same store I buy groceries on the cheap for basement bargain prices.
I walk across the little courtyard and up to the overly tall, too-wide front door. The heavy, dark wood must be at least fourteen feet tall, and I don’t even see a doorknob. I lift my hand to knock, but the door opens on the first meeting of my knuckles with the wood.
I'm startled by the suddenness of the door opening and I freeze.
A man towers over me, a wicked-looking scar parting his dark eyebrow as he narrows dark eyes on me. His black hair is neat, perfectly combed, and he looks deceptively casual in a fitted tee-shirt that shows off his muscular chest, shoulders and arms and the flatness of his abs tucked into a nice, dark pair of slacks.
Something in me whispers, run.
Instead, I swallow hard, bottle up that instinct, and offer him what I hope resembles a smile. Please don't let me be sneering at him or making an ugly face.
“You're the new nanny?” I hear the disdain in his voice as he looks me up and down far too slowly as if filtering every detail before his gaze meets mine again.
I want to take a step back, cower, cover myself with my hands and arms because he's looking at me as if I’m totally naked and on display right here on his doorstep.
“Well, I hope so.” I reach out to offer him a handshake, but he glances down at my hand and doesn't take it. I refuse to let my smile waver. “I'm Thea Faith, and it's a pleasure to meet you.” Why is he looking at me like I'm something someone tracked in on the bottom of their shoe?
As my heart begins to sink toward my toes, I realize that maybe Everly was right. The job itself probably won't be a nightmare, but Mr. Thorpe absolutely will be.
“I can just go.” My confidence crumbles when I turn, ready to race to my car, but a strong hand takes my shoulder and turns me around.
“Do you always walk out of interviews?” His icy cold question has my jaw dropping.
Is he kidding? Is this some sick joke where he's just going to laugh and say gotcha?
I lift my chin. “Mr. Thorpe, you are looking at me as if I am absolutely not a fit for this job on sight. I'd rather not waste your time or mine, so if I'm not a good fit, can you please tell me now so I can move on to my next interview?”
Of course I'm posturing. I don't have another interview lined up. I need this job. Nobody pays even close to what he offers. But as his gaze locks on mine, I see something darken in his eyes.
He takes a step back and swings the door wide open. “Please come in, Miss Faith.”
“Please call me Thea.” My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can't believe that power play just worked.
This man seems like the most powerful individual I've ever talked to, so how the heck am I managing to strong arm him into making me think I'm a fit when we both know there's no way I'm going to be?
There must be more going on than I know, and that thought sends a shiver down my spine.
I just wish Everly had given me solid advice on how to handle him, because I’m pretty sure I’m failing already.
Chapter Two
Blake
Very rarely does someone impress me right out of the gate, but Thea managed.
