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“I’ll give you a quick tour,” he tells me gruffly. “Then we’ll leave to let you get settled in. Connor will be home later. He’s off running errands.”
Low shudders a little on the word “errands.” I guess it means more Mafia business. I suppose it’s best if I don’t think about it.
Leaving the suitcases in the front entranceway, at the base of the twisting staircase, next to a white stone fireplace, Paddy leads us through a sitting room, flowing into a dining room, and through an archway into the kitchen.
Paddy’s SUV is visible from the kitchen windows, parked next to a neat little blue sedan –which I think might be my new car –and the “it’s not really there” cottage.
The house is exactly the opposite of what I imagined when Low told me one of her Irish mobsters needed a live-in housekeeper.
It’s all gorgeous hardwood parquet floors and block-painted walls with white trim. The place isspotless, and the furniture style matches the Victorian exterior and feel of the house.
I think most of the furniture is antique. There are even internal French folding glass doors between some of the rooms. And chandeliers. Cute, old-school chandeliers without being over the top.
Freakingfairytale. Beauty and the Beast on a smaller scale. I feel like this walk-through should be accompanied by piping orchestra music. Oh my God, there’s a cute little wooden upright piano!
The kitchen has Laura Ashley sprigged wallpaper. The whole space is turn of the century with little alcoves. I’m never leaving. I will be the best housekeeper in Massachusetts, so my mobster can’t bear to let me go. Then I can stay and bake in this kitchenforever.
The laundry has a stained glass window looking out over the spacious backyard. Astained glass window. It might only be a half-hour drive, but I am officially a world away from Dot.
The main staircase leads up to the second story, with three bedrooms, a bathroom, and a cozy sitting room with more comfortable-looking sofas than the fancy antiques in the parlor downstairs.
“This is your floor.” Paddy quickly brings my suitcases up and places them in one of the bedrooms, with a four-poster double bed and gorgeous dark hardwood matching bureau and closet set.
“This way.” He leads me back down the main staircase and up the second staircase hidden behind it, which leads directly to the third story. The separate staircase is a newer addition than the rest of the building. This looks like it was once an attic space but is now a fully functional third floor. I wonder why they didn’t simply put a staircase from the second floor. It would make more sense to me.
“This is Connor’s space.”
Connor is my new boss. I look around with interest, peeking through open doors. It’s very masculine. There’s a larger master bedroom with an ensuite bathroom, a small den with a comfortable-looking leather sofa, and a large flat-screen TV. The fourth room has a small gym with a treadmill, a weights machine, and a boxing bag.
“You’ll only come up here to clean, and only when Connor says it’s okay.” Paddy’s tone makes me shiver, and I nod quickly.
“Call me! I want to hear how you’re settling in!” Low exclaims, wrapping me into a tight hug. Paddy glowers at me over her shoulder.
“You’ll not be talking about any of Connor’s personal business, lass. Even to us.”
“Of course not!” I squeak, my eyes wide as I swallow painfully. “I’ll talk to Low about chores and stuff. Cleaning. Baking. That stuff.”
Paddy nods slowly, sliding his hand into Low’s, squeezing her fingers as they leave. Blowing out a slow breath, I turn with wide eyes, drinking in the sight again.
Slowly walking back up to the second story, my eyes sweep over my new digs to unpack my suitcases. The bathroom across the hall from me has a huge shower/bathtub combo, which I amsotrying out some time.
Once I’ve unpacked and stowed my suitcases under the bed, I wander back down to the kitchen to check out what’s in the fridge and cupboards.
The whole place looks like it was deep cleaned yesterday. It’s very tidy for a mobster. Apart from Paddy, I’ve never spent much time with any mobsters. I only met a few of the briefly at Low’s wedding. I may have encountered Connor, but I can’t put a face to the name.
As I close the stainless steel refrigerator door and turn around, I jump and give a small scream, pressing my hands to my heart. A man is standing in the doorway of the hall.
He is leaning against the doorjamb with his hands shoved into his pockets while silently staring at me. Oh, I hope this is Connor because otherwise, that’s justcreepy.
He has thick ashy blonde hair, a strong jaw, and smoldering gray bedroom eyes. He’s wearing a dark gray suit with a crisp white button-down shirt, open at the neck, and his black dress shoes are shined to the max.
Even though he’s dressed all slick, his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and powerful build screamdanger. He’s plain yummy.
“I-I’m Andie Halpern,” I stammer, still clasping my hands over my heart.
“Connor Fitzpatrick,” he rumbles back in a deep, gravelly voice that has my stomach clenching.
Of course, I’ve gone and gotten a live-in job with the world’s most gorgeous man. It’s exactly my freaking luck.
