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“Thank you, young man, for finding her. This one is precocious. Most days, she drives me insane.” She studies me for a beat. “I’m Sandra Ellis. Mr. Croft hired me to manage the household. Are you the speech reader tutor?”
“That’s me. Ford Mann.” I glance down at the way I’m still gripping Della as though she might run off if I let go. “I’d shake your hand but…”
“I understand.” Her nose scrunches. “Please tell me that’s your cat and not hers. I’ve had to take the last three strays she found to be put down. Her father won’t allow her to have a pet and she knows it. Not sure why she keeps trying.”
Della stiffens, the muscles under my touch tightening. I decide to throw the kid a bone because Stepford Nanny here looks all too eager for another cat murder.
“Heathen’s mine.” I scratch the cat behind the ears. She growls in warning, like the little psychopath her real owner is. “It’s good therapy for the kids.” Whatever. It sounds legit.
Sandra purses her lips and nods slowly as though she doesn’t quite believe me. “If Mr. Croft has a problem with the animal, you’ll need to take it elsewhere. Understood?”
“Yep.”
“Excellent. Now, let’s go inside. Della can have her snack while I show you around.”
Sandra turns on her heel with robotic precision and glides into the penthouse. Creepy as hell if you ask me. I glance down at Della who glowers at the woman. When she catches me staring at her, Della looks up and smirks. Then, she flips off Sandra to her back.
Stifling a laugh, I guide Della through the door. The condo is lavish and expensive, nicer than any home I’ve ever been in. It has at least twenty-foot ceilings in the living room and glass for walls all along the far side. The view is pretty spectacular, I have to admit. Sandra closes the door behind us and then shoos Della off. The cat—Heathen, I guess is her name now—doesn’t try to escape but remains tense in my grip.
“Mr. Croft believes that it’s imperative for Della to improve her lip reading skills. Not everyone out there in the world will know ASL and he wants her to be able to effectively understand those around her,” Sandra explains as she shows me to a space set up like a classroom. “This is where Della takes her lessons. Your main point of contact will be myself, but in the event Della misbehaves or ignores you altogether, you may also seek assistance from her older sister. Landry is one of the few people she listens to.”
Noted.
An easy way to access Landry. Maybe this job won’t be so boring after all. Based on the way Della’s acted thus far, it’s obvious I’ll be calling on Landry at every turn.
“Any questions? If not, I’ll grab Della once she’s finished her snack and return her to you. Feel free to look around and make yourself at home.”
With those words, she pivots in one fluid motion like before and seems to float away like a goddamn ghost.
“If I set you down, you better behave,” I tell Heathen. “Don’t give that woman an excuse to put you down.”
Heathen growls in what sounds like defiance, but I set her down anyway. She scurries away and slips between a desk and the wall. Just in time, too. The door opens with a creak. I turn around, expecting to see Della demanding to know where her cat is.
Instead, I see her.
Landry Croft.
Silky blonde hair. Pouty pink lips. Wide, bright blue eyes.
The shock on her face is amusing. A thrill shoots through me. Though I hate most jobs Bryant sends us on, I feel as though I might find a tiny bit of satisfaction with this one. Sparrow understated how beautiful Landry was. He’d used the word fuckable, and while the curves of her body are tantalizing to look at, there’s something about her that is captivating.
“Ford?” she blurts out, a flush of pink stealing over her cheeks and throat. “What are you doing here?”
I flash her a wide grin. “It’s my job.”
“Your job?”
“I’m Della’s speechreading tutor.”
Her bewildered expression only makes her cuter.
This job just got a whole helluva lot better.
Chapter Seven
Landry
How?
How is Ford Mann in my home?
He watches me, a brow arched slightly. The way he studies me somehow feels more probing than from before. Not in the taunting way. This time it’s more…intimate.
Is it because we’re alone?
In my home?
“Are you even qualified?” I demand, swallowing down my surprise at seeing him and allowing concern for my sister to rise up. “You have to take this seriously. My little sister isn’t some joke.”
Clearly affronted by my words, he frowns, a crease between his brows forming. I can’t help but drop my gaze to his mouth. Earlier, it’d been twisted into a boyish, teasing grin. Now, his lips are practically pursed in agitation. It bothers me that our easy banter from before has seemed to disappear. The air between us cackles with uncertainty.
