He raises his eyebrows. “No offence, but I’m not calling you Brelly. You’re not an umbrella.”
I bite my bottom lip to stifle my smile. I feel like I am in the principle’s office about to be expelled from school. He’s wearing an expensive navy suit with a white shirt. His dark hair is longer on the top, with a curl running through it, and he has the squarest jaw I think I’ve ever seen. His eyes are big and brown, and… he really is very good looking.
“I don’t think this is going to work out,” he says calmly, slicing my thoughts in two.
“What?” I whisper.
He gives a subtle shake of his head. “I’m sorry, I just-”
“Is this about this morning?” I interrupt.
“Brielle, I deal with liars and thieves all day at work. I don’t have the energy to have someone living under my roof who I don’t trust.”
“You… you can trust me,” I stammer. “I’m the most honest person you could ever meet. Too honest, in fact. Ask anybody.”
He sips his drink, and his cold eyes hold mine.
“Ask me anything. Ask me anything right now and I will tell you the whole truth, I promise.”
He lifts his chin. “All right then, what did you say to Willow this morning?”
My face falls. Oh, he had to ask that, didn’t he?
I swallow the lump in my throat. That little snitch. If I wasn’t already getting fired, I definitely am now.
“I think it went something like…” I readjust my position in my seat, and he raises an eyebrow, waiting. My heart begins to beat fast.
“I asked her if that was what her game was? To be an evil little bitch until the nanny’s run away. And then I asked her if she tries and makes their lives a living hell.”
He narrows his eyes.
“And then I asked her if her daddy comes to her rescue every time.”
He glares at me and bites his bottom lip, as if he’s stopping himself from snapping or yelling.
I cringe openly. “And then she said something along the lines of ‘fuck you, stay out of my fucking way.’ So I warned her not to fucking speak to me like that in front of Samuel ever again. I don’t give a fuck if she doesn’t like me, but I will not put up with her upsetting him.” I shrug. “Give or take a few insults.”
He tips his head and drains his glass, clearly disgusted.
My heart begins to hammer so hard, I feel like I can literally hear the blood pumping in my ears.
His eyes hold mine. “And what gives you the right to speak to my daughter like that?”
“I don’t have that right, and I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. She just got me so mad speaking to me like that in front of Samuel. He needs to be protected from her venom. He’s just a baby, and I know she’s troubled, but I needed her to know that it’s not okay and I won’t be putting up with it.”
He blows all the air from his cheeks and pours another scotch, glancing up mid pour, as if realizing he’s being rude by not offering me one. He tilts the bottle my way.
“Yes, please,” I say, grateful for the offer-I’ll try anything to calm my nerves. This is harrowing.
He fills my glass with ice and then pours me a scotch. Hell, where’s the mixer? Do I drink this straight?
He passes it over. “Thank you.” I take a sip and feel the heat go down and slowly warm my oesophagus. “Hmm.” I lift the glass and inspect the golden fluid. “This is… strong.”
A trace of a smile crosses his face as he sits back at his stool.
He watches me intently, and then finally responds. “Willow is a lot to handle, I know that.”
“I was a nightmare, too, at that age. I can handle her.”
“I have no doubt.” He purses his lips. “But this isn’t about Willow.”
I frown. “Then what is it about?”
“It’s about you being in my bedroom and looking through my things this morning.”
I gulp my drink down and nearly choke. This stuff is like rocket fuel. I cough loudly, clearing my throat. “Oh, that.” I wince around the fire in my throat. Sweet Jesus, am I drinking petrol here?
“Yes, that,” he answers. “Please explain what you were doing in my bedroom.”
I glance at the door. Run… just fucking run.
I swallow the sand in my throat. “I went to check on Samuel because I was worried about him sleepwalking again and I thought you had left for the day.” I frown as I try to make this story sound reasonable. “On the way back to my room, I saw your door was open and I just…”
He watches me as he takes a sip of his drink.
“I wanted to see what your bedroom looked like.”
He raises a brow.
I offer a half smile and try to sweeten the story as much as I can. “I walked in, looked around, and then I saw your bathroom cabinet was slightly ajar.” I shrug. “You can find out so much about a person by their bathroom cabinet, you know?” I take another big gulp of my rocket fuel.
Holy hell, this is strong shit. I half cough, my oesophagus burned beyond belief.
I get a vision of myself falling off the stool, drunk, and I shiver in horror.
Great, a hopeless nanny who can’t hold her liquor, this story just keeps getting better and better by the minute.
He lifts his chin once more, in defiance and the energy between us begins to change. His questions somehow turn into a silent dare for me to tell the truth and he watches me intently. “What did you find out about me, Brielle?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “You’re very neat,” I whisper nervously.
He doesn’t react.
“I really like your cologne.” A trace of a smile crosses his face, and it gives me the confidence to keep going.
“And… you’re… sexually active.”
His eyes darken and the air suddenly crackles between us.
He takes a slow, steady sip of his scotch, and I watch closely as his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip. I feel my insides clench.
Huh?
He leans forward in his chair. “What are you doing here, Brielle?” he whispers. The electricity between us has stolen my ability to think straight. “Drinking the strongest alcohol known to man?” I offer.
He smiles sexily and releases a low chuckle. “I meant, why did you come to England?”
I bite my bottom lip. “To get away from my ex-boyfriend. We broke up last year and I needed a change… to move on.”
His eyes drop to my lips. “And how long has it been since you’ve been with a man?”
I frown, but without putting my brain to mouth filter on, I whisper, “Too long. Way too long.”
Our eyes are locked, and when his tongue swipes over his lips again, my breath catches.
“How long has it been since you’ve been with someone?” I ask.
What the hell is in this drink? Truth serum?
He smiles sarcastically. “My sexual behavior isn’t up for discussion tonight.”
My eyebrows rise in surprise. “But mine is?”
“I was merely doing a character analysis.”
I smile against my glass. “As am I.”
His eyes dance with mischief as he watches me. “You’re right, you are refreshingly honest, Miss Brielle.”
I smile.
“If not a little forward,” he adds.
“I could say the same for you, but I don’t see how when I was last with a man has anything to do with my character.”
“It gives me an insight into the kind of life you live.”
I think on it for a moment. “Well, if that’s the case, I’m sorry to report that I live the most boring life imaginable, because I haven’t thought about a man or been with a man for over twelve months.”
“I see,” he murmurs, seemingly impressed with my answer.
“Mr. Masters, I know I may be a busybody, but I can assure you that I am not here to steal your things or fight with your daughter. I’m here to do a great job for you for twelve months, and hopefully find myself in the process.”
He narrows his eyes and sits back in his seat. “And how do you plan on doing that?”
I sip my drink as I contemplate my answer. “I’m going to see the country, learn about its history, and spend my weekends with Emerson.” I shrug. “You never know, I may meet a man and have some fun while I’m here, too.”
“And exactly what does that entail?” he asks, bemused.
This man is so intelligent that I have no idea if he’s genuinely interested in the answer to these questions, or if he’s really just being condescending.
“I’m not sure. All I know is that if I really knew what I needed, I would have gone out and found it at home.”
His eyes hold mine.
What the hell is he is thinking?
“Hmm.” He hesitates for a moment. “Tell me about your visa.”
I exhale heavily and sip my rocket fuel. It’s so strong, the fumes go up my nose and I have another coughing fit. “How do you drink this?” I splutter as I pound my chest with a closed fist.
“Takes the edge off.” He smirks.
“Off of what?” I continue to cough. “What edge is this sharp?” I wince.
He chuckles, a deep velvety sound that seeps into my bone marrow, and I feel my heart flutter.
He’s just so…
He arches an eyebrow and I realize that he’s waiting for my answer. “Oh, the visa?” He raises his glass impatiently. God, he really does think I’m dense. “Will you please stop that?” I snap.
“Stop what?”
“The condescending looks and quips.”
A trace of a smile crosses his face “My apologies.”
I drain the rest of my glass and I hold it out for a top up. I have no idea what I’m doing here, but sweetening him up while drinking scotch seems to be a perfect plan.
He refills my glass, and then I sip my drink, simply watching him for a moment. “Do you always do this?”
“Do I always drink scotch with my nannies and get reprimanded for answering their questions? No.”
“So, you’re a scotch nanny virgin?”
This time it’s him who chokes on his drink as he laughs. “Most definitely. A nanny virgin, anyway. Not so much a scotch virgin.”
I smile broadly. For some reason I like that answer. “See? We’re getting along fine now. This is all going to work out.”
“This is not working out. This is a pleasant distraction.”
My face falls. “Oh.”
His brows furrow. “Please don’t take this personally, but you’re just not what I expected, Brielle.”
“What did you expect?”
He shrugs. “Someone older, experienced, more professional.”
I think for a moment. “The ad didn’t request any of that.”