Page 36 of The Boss and the Adoption Mess
This has to be a bad joke, right?
I laugh nervously, not sure how to respond.
“Rosie needs a stable environment. And I need a woman who, professionally, wants what’s best for her.”
“What exactly do you mean?” Some details would be helpful here.
“Think it over again, whether you might want to work for me after all.”
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea…” Even though I really like the little girl.
“It’s just a job. That pays very well.” Gabriel’s face is dead serious—serious enough to convince me he’s not joking. “It’s just an idea.” He clears his throat. “I’ll contact you next week. Think about it.”
“About what exactly?” I ask.
He steps closer, and I back into the elevator. Gabriel hits the button for the ground floor.
“Whether you’d want to be both my personal assistant and my nanny. You’d move in with me and we’d work together. It’s easier to adopt Rosie if I have a woman by my side who can take care of her.”
I let out a desperate little laugh at that, but Gabriel only smiles. The elevator doors close and suddenly I’m alone. Alone with myself. My thoughts. This crazy offer and a thousand questions spinning in my head.
When I get home, I pace back and forth like a tiger in a cage. Was he serious? Or is this some weird trick to confuse me and make me look like a fool again?
So, would the pay be really good? I clasp my hands. That would be too good to be true. And crazy. Even if it were £100,000 a year, that’d be a solid £1 million in ten years. And all this just to improve his chances of being allowed to adopt his niece?
If I’m already his personal assistant, a sky-high salary would at least be explainable. In the end it probably wouldn’t be £1 million a year, but maybe… let’s say instead of £100,000, it might be £200,000 or £250,000. And if I move in with him to care for Rosie, all my living expenses disappear.
My parents’ business could be paid off in a year or two, and they could start over. Everything I earn after that I could save and be financially secure for the rest of my life.
But for how many years could I really do this? Two, five, even ten? Ten whole years? By then I’d be thirty-six…
These are the best years of my life, but they’d be well paid. And for a good cause. That is, if Gabriel’s serious. And if the sums in my head are even close to what he’s offering…
Chapter 8
Gabriel
The days pass and the weekend creeps closer. Every morning, Sally makes cocoa for all of us—completely without sugar. Rosie’s levels don’t spike, which is a huge relief, and thanks to the morning cocoa she’s happier, and calmer. Now I’m the “cool uncle” who kept his promise, not the workaholic uncle who bans her from everything that tastes good.
On Saturday, I skip the office and stay with Rosie at the apartment. The hours fly by, and it’s already late evening when the front door finally opens.
By then, Rosie’s long asleep in bed, and I’m in the kitchen doing dishes.
“Sorry, got a little late,” my sister says as she walks in. Dark circles ring her eyes, her greasy hair screams of a rough, wild week where she probably didn’t even see a shower. She looks exhausted and haggard.
“Keep it down, Rosie’s already asleep,” I tell her, stepping closer. She reeks of alcohol, and her clothes are filthy. “Where’ve you been?” I ask.
“Out. I’m gonna wake her up.” She starts heading for my bedroom, but I grab her arm.
“She’s asleep. And you reek of alcohol. Are you drunk?”
“I’ve sobered up, relax.” She rolls her eyes and tries to pull away, so I let go and shut the apartment door.
“You can’t keep dropping her off here and disappearing for days without telling me where you are or when you’re coming back. Rosie has to go to daycare. I couldn’t even grab her clothes or toys from your place since I don’t have a key.”
“You’ve got enough money. Just buy her new stuff.”
“I did. She came here with nothing.”
