Page 44 of The Stranger

“Murderous tendencies? Heads on spikes? Doesn’t matter,” I mutter.

“There’s got to be a reason you’ve been trying to kill him with your eyeballs.” She makes a v of her fingers and points them at her eyes then his head. “Laser beams.”

“I suppose I’m just finding this difficult. Finding him difficult. And by difficult, I mean despotic.”

“Tell us what you really mean,” she says with a soft laugh.

I slide her a glance. “I thought I was being diplomatic.”

“You’ve never worked for the rich before, huh?” Her gaze drifts to the front of the plane. “So easy on the eyes,” she murmurs, “but the personality of a bad trip. At least he cuts a very decent paycheck.”

“Yes, at least.” As if that excuses his character deficits.

“Madeline mentioned you’re Emmy’s best friend.”

I nod. “We’ve been friends forever.”

“I like Emmy. She’s sweet, and so good with the kids.”

“She is genuinely one of the nicest people I know.”

“Well, you must be nice too, stepping in for her like this. Super lucky you were in Paris, though. She said you were going on vacation together?”

I bob my head in agreement.

“It’s good to hear her dad is going to be okay. I guess you must’ve been between gigs yourself,” she adds, barely coming up for breath. “Feel free anytime to tell me to mind my own.” Her grin is wide and unapologetic.

“Between jobs, yes. I have a new one, but I don’t start my until September.”

“Good timing, huh?”

“I’m not usually a nanny,” I admit with a little discomfort. “I’m a doctor. Or I will be come September.” It’s a weird sort of in between period. Like, I have all the qualifications and the title, but until I’m on the ward, I don’t really see myself as a proper doctor. I know it’s silly.

“That it so cool! A doctor in the house. It makes sense why the boss asked you to extend your term.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“Especially after what happened with the previous nanny temp.”

“Did something happen?” I only have his version of events, though I do believe him, I think. Regardless, I feel my eyebrows inching the way of my hairline, so I force them back again.

“Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been good. Madeline told me the woman was marched from the premises. Another gold-digger, I guess. Or a fame hound.” She shrugs. “Maybe a journalist.”

“A journalist?”

“The things they’ll do for a good story.”

“But why? What on earth does he do?” I whisper, glancing back at his dark head.

“You’re not big on celebrity culture, huh?”

I shake my head.

“The du Beaumont name is synonymous with luxury goods—has been for more than a hundred years, apparently. The group owns designer brands, champagne houses, hotels, and all kinds of other goodies. That man has his fingers in all kinds of lavish European pies.”

“Oh.”

“Hmm, pie,” she adds. “Didn’t you see the bag after monogrammed bag being loaded into the plane?”