Page 17 of The Stranger

“With the new nanny.”

My steps continue. “Her background check?”

“Preliminaries show she’s as clean as a whistle. Criminal, driving, credit, and employment history are all stellar. Emmy wasn’t kidding when she said they’d been friends forever because they were in kindergarten together. In fact, until they were eighteen, they went to the same school, with the exception of one term when⁠—”

“I don’t need to know her life story.” Just that my children will be safe.

“—the girl, Primrose,” he continues regardless, “her family decided to pay Emmy’s private school fees. They also paid her Norland tuition fees.”

“The new girl is also a Norland graduate?”

“Nope, she didn’t graduate from a fancy London nanny college.” I halt and begin to turn at the unhappy news. “She graduated from UCL. Second time around at least, because her first undergrad degree was from Durham University where she earned a⁠—”

“Excellent, a career student,” I retort.

His expression twists. “Turns out, becoming a doctor requires a lot of education.”

“What?”

He shrugs. “She just graduated.”

“Then why…”

“And she has a job at a prestigious London hospital starting in September.”

“Why would she agree to this?” I begin to move again. Down a half dozen marble steps, I make my way to the kitchen.

“Friendship,” Jacques says as though explaining an unfamiliar concept. “Respect. And because Emmy always puts the family first.”

“Except in this instance,” I bristle. Unfairly, I know.

“Cold, Luc. Stone fucking cold.”

“The timing is inconvenient,” I mutter.

“Not as inconvenient as it was to her dad, I’ll bet,” he responds.

I pivot with a glare.

“I mean, I can’t think of a time a heart attack would be convenient, can you?”

“I’m sure we all wish him a speedy recovery.” While I expect all of my employees to put their jobs first and pay them a premium to do so, I’m being an asshole. Worse, I can’t seem to stop myself.

The girl or the hotel chain? Or the fact that I didn’t get off last night?

A little from column A, B, and C most likely.

“That’s very true.”

“And a return to our status quo as soon as possible.”

“I never really liked their music.”

Disregarding that, I continue to the kitchen where Zoe stands at the stove stirring a pot of something that makes my stomach contract in hunger.

“Where is Madeline?” I demand, though I assume she’s overseeing the new nanny. I expected to find all four of them here.

The chef, pivots at my voice. “There was an emergency,” Zoe begins. “Madeline’s granddaughter…” But the rest of her answer trails off under the weight of my angry stare.