Page 27 of Boss of Me
“What was that?”
“I said yes. I’ll take the job.”
“Good girl,” he croons with satisfaction. “I knew you’d come to your senses.”
I can’t help bristling at his arrogance.
“Before you start gloating,” I grit out, “let’s get a few things straight. I need this job. If I don’t work, I can’t pay my bills or keep a roof over my head. If that happens, I’ll have to pack up and return to Pittsburgh with my tail tucked between my legs. That’s not an option for me. So I’ll mop your floors, wash your laundry and scrub the shit stains out of your toilets. But if youthink I’m going to be hopping into your bed at night, you’ve got another think coming.”
There’s a long silence, during which I nervously wonder if I’ve just backtalked my way out of the best-paying job I never had.
Finally he lets out a quiet chuckle. “You’re really something, Miss Somerset.”
I swallow hard. “I just?—”
“Mrs. Calder will be in touch.”
Before I can say anything else, he hangs up.
Chapter Eight
marlowe
He sends a car for mea week later.
His driver is an attractive, burly Texan named Trace. He’s not the same guy who chauffeured us that night, otherwise I would’ve given him an earful for participating in Gunner’s charade.
He loads up my boxes and suitcases while I say goodbye to Sansa, hugging and kissing her as she purrs in blissful ignorance. I feel guilty for leaving her behind, but I know Quinn will take good care of her.
When I reluctantly put her down, she prances off without a backward glance.
I poke my bottom lip out.
“Don’t worry. She won’t forget you.” Quinn hugs me tight, then pulls back and winks. “Your chariot awaits, Cinderella. Off to the palace you go.”
I scowl at her, and she laughs.
Forty minutes later when I arrive at Not-Prince-Charming’s estate, Mrs. Calder welcomes me at the front door.
“Trace will bring your things inside. Let me show you to your room.” She starts across the foyer. “There’s an elevator around the corner, which will make it easier for you to carry your cleaning supplies between floors.”
Nodding, I follow her up the grand circular staircase and down a hallway that seems to stretch on forever. I assume she’s taking me to a small, modest room in the servants’ quarters. So I’m blown away when we end up in a freaking suite with a bedroom, sitting room and private bath overlooking the lake. It’s bigger than my entire apartment and luxurious enough to rival a presidential suite in any five-star hotel.
I turn slowly in a circle, looking around in astonishment. “Thisis my room?”
“It is.” Mrs. Calder smiles, amused by my reaction. “Mr. Ransom wanted to ensure your maximum comfort. The bathroom is stocked with toiletries and fresh towels, and you’ll find five sets of your new uniform in the closet. They must be kept clean and pressed at all times.”
I process these details with a nod. “Is he here? Mr. Ransom?”
“No. He’s away for the weekend.”
I tell myself the twinge in my chest isn’t disappointment.
“I’ll let you get settled in. When you’re ready, come to my office so we can go over your schedule and duties.” Mrs. Calder leaves as the driver starts bringing in my stuff.
A few hours later, my boxes are unpacked and my clothes are hung up in the walk-in closet. To personalize the room, I place a few pictures on the bedside table. One photo is of my father and me playing the piano together when I was eight. Another photo captures Sansa sunbathing in a window. The third picture shows Ember and me wearing Steelers jerseys at the last game we attended two years ago. Our faces are painted in black andgold as we mug for the camera with our arms slung around each other’s shoulders.
A therapist would have a field day analyzing my mother’s absence from my pictures, but that’s another story for another time.
