Page 31 of The Stranger

I feel suddenly uncomfortable. We’ve had this conversation a dozen times or more but today it seems to have a different vibe. Maybe because, last night, I was attracted to someone. And look where it got me. Out in the trash-smelly alley.

“Well, I’m not gonna moon over some bloke who has the personality of a dyspeptic Doberman, am I?”

“Oh my God,” she says, bursting into peals of laughter. “You have to tell Zoe that!”

“The chef?”

“Yeah. You’ll like her. Dyspeptic Doberman,” she adds with another giggle. “She’ll totally get that.”

“So he’s a nightmare with everyone,” I state flatly.

“He’s not so terrible once you get to know him. Once he trusts you, I suppose.”

I make a noise of derision. He must go through staff like tissue paper. “Well, I’m practically through the first day already so, all good here.”

“And the kids, how are they?”

“Well, one of them is lovely and the other one is her brother.” He clearly takes after his father.

“I’m sure with your unique brand of charm, you’ll win him over.”

For a moment, I think she’s talking about the senior du Beaumont and find myself nibbling the edge of my thumbnail. Great, I think flatly, staring at the newly jagged edge.

Good thing I’m excellent at controlling my impulses.

The truth of the matter is, no matter how short my stay, there is very little chance of seeing eye to eye with the senior Monsieur du Beaumont over anything. He’s just lucky he still his balls after threatening to fire Em because I am pretty good with a scalpel.

Not really. General surgery wasn’t for me.

But I expect I could castrate him.

With the right motivation.

What kind of idiot puts two and two together and comes up with… oranges? He knows Emmy—he’s trusted her with his kids. To assume she’d do anything underhanded, anything illegal, is just plain bonkers.

“I’m going to send you a quick text with a couple of things that might help. Bedtime routines and stuff. Is that okay?”

“’Course.” My phone pings almost immediately.

“I know your French is pretty decent, but he’ll prefer you to stick to English with the kids. He usually speaks French with them, though his English is excellent.”

“I noticed.” I try to keep the bite from my tone.

“He’s half English himself, you know.”

“Why doesn’t he speak to them in English, then?” Surely, a French nanny would be easier to come by.

“He does, but not when they’re alone. I get the impression he’s trying to keep a little of their mother alive.”

“Oh.” That’s sad.

“There’s a folder in the top drawer of my dresser. It was given to me on my first day on the job. It might help.”

“The dos and don’ts?” Hard pass to reading that.

“And keep your phone charged, yeah?”

“And my phone isn’t always flat,” I complain.