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“Still or sparkling?”
“Still, please.” I was about to say tap water would be fine but held back. I didn’t want to embarrass myself.
“Ecco a lei. I will be right back.” Armando left, closing the tall double doors softly behind him.
Was Armando a butler?
Heaving a sigh, I looked around me. A row of windows looked out to the side garden, but it was the shelves adorning the walls from floor to ceiling that grabbed my attention. Row after row filled with books of all kinds. I walked over to them and touched the massive walnut wooden shelves, running my fingers gently over the books.
I could easily live in this room. It looked like someone else did. The books were well-read, the creases on the sides giving them away. There were books in different languages. Italian, of course. But also English, French, Spanish, Russian, Japanese, … I sighed. My dad, an avid reader, would have loved this room. The topics were broad as the languages, politics, religion, … sex. Right next to each other.
My spine burned like a fire behind me. Startled, I flipped around.
Holy shit.
Standing in front of the double doors was an excellent specimen that could have easily popped out of one of those sex books. I swallowed the itch in my dry throat. How had I not heard the doors open and close? The man had sinfully beautiful hair. Thick and in shades of brown with strands of silver grey. I was a sucker for grey in men's hair, and this one had some grey sprinkled in his barely-there scruff as well. God had noted down my wish list and delivered. I wondered what gave him silver streaks because it certainly couldn’t be his age. He was older than me but not enough to gain streaks.
“Miss Praan, nice of you to come in so soon.” His voice had a dark edge to it like it was used only to talk of naughty things. It tugged at something inside me, wrung it out, and left me naked. When he crossed over and shook my hand with a firm handshake, I felt something pull. He tilted my nerves, and I instantly dropped his hand for the hot coals they were and took a step backwards.
Get a hold of yourself.
His chestnut brown eyes bored into mine, reading my face, taking stock, saving data before he finally moved away to sit behind his massive desk in walnut and leather.
The air cleared slightly around me, allowing me to breathe.
“Please,” he indicated with his hand with long fingers to the beautiful olive green-chairs in front of his. “Have a seat.”
His accent wasn’t as pronounced as Armando’s, but it was present. That sexy Italian vibe oozing off him flowed seamlessly with his accent.
I cleared my throat and moved to sit down. My navy-blue pencil skirt and white wide-collared shirt felt suddenly too tight on me. My large, red-beaded choker around my neck was too warm, too tight, choking me.
I needed a breather.
“Isabella gave you all the details, I presume?” His eyes had a dark glint in them as they focused on me. Like a hot cup of black coffee.
“She was quite brief on the phone.”
Stupid croak. Letting me down.
I cleared my throat.
“Fair enough. There’s nothing special about it. I am looking for a nanny for my daughter. She’s five months old. I need someone with experience. Someone who can be there with her at all times and put her needs first.” He flicked a glance at his open laptop before scorching me through my skin. “You do have the experience?”
Holy hot daddy!
“Of course. I worked for two years at a day care back in London.”
“Right. You’re originally from England.” I couldn’t read if that was positive or negative. “What brings you over to Boston?” The question seemed casual, but something told me the answer would be analysed. He was not a man who took an answer at point blank.
I wasn’t going to allow idiotic Adam to ruin the possibility of me getting this job. “I came to further my studies.” A nervous laugh escaped me.
“What do you plan to study?”
“Fashion.”
“From day care to fashion?”
“Fashion is my dream.”
