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But now my dreamy billionaire boss is standing staring at me and I’m wearing only my wet swimming costume and feeling exposed and unprofessional. If there is a more embarrassing way to meet your new boss, I can’t think what it might be.
Heat rushes to my face. I don’t look down, but I feel my nipples thrusting against the thin fabric of my costume and I want the ground to gobble me up. There’s no way he won’t notice.
I think he’s undressing me with his eyes, but after his gaze skims over me, he looks up and behaves like the perfect gentleman. It might be appreciation I glimpse in his expression, but I can’t be sure.
He seems like a decent guy, and I release a measured sigh of relief. Committing to a live in position in a house with a family you’ve never met is nerve-wracking, even if the house is big, and they are out a lot. Kids are easy for me, but adults typically present an unpredictable set of thorny challenges.
I hadn’t bargained on sharing a house with this single dad hottie. I realise now I presumed he’d be a staid business type with spectacles and thinning hair like the other fathers I’ve worked for. The agency vets their clients thoroughly, so I didn't even think to look him up.
I can’t help noticing his blue-grey eyes and lush dark lashes, and I have to stop myself gawping at him. He’s as beautiful as a Parisian male model. His pale blue shirt skims his broad shoulders and tapers down neatly into the slim waist of his immaculately tailored trousers. He picks up Daisy and smothers her face in kisses, making her giggle and snort.
My heart glows at the sight of him with his daughter. They obviously have a wonderful relationship, which is rarer than one might think. Nothing pleases me more than seeing happy children. That’s why I do this job. There are too many neglected, sad kids in this world, and I want to do my bit to make it better in my own small way. First impressions tell me Daisy isn’t one of them.
I chastise myself for not going to get a towel after emerging from the heated outdoor pool instead of parading around the garden half-naked in my costume for our first meeting. It’s a baking hot day and not the weather I’d been warned to expect in London. The house is so comfortable that I made myself at home without giving it much thought. The assistant said Mr Rochester wouldn’t be back until early evening, so I was making the most of the pool with Daisy.
As soon as I can, I excuse myself and rush upstairs into the rain shower in my ensuite bathroom to cool down. And it’s not just the temperature of the sunshine that’s got me hot and bothered.
I hope I haven’t blown it. Mr Rochester seemed pretty easy going and was so friendly that I think it’ll be okay, but I feel on edge. I debate changing into a different outfit for dinner and then decide to slip back into my pretty summer dress. I brush my hair and apply a touch of make-up. All the while, my mind tangles with thoughts of my new boss—thoughts I know I shouldn’t be entertaining.
My eyes sparkle in the mirror, and I look a little feverish. I tell myself I’m just nervous and excited to have a new job and to be meeting my best friend for dinner. My heart pitter patters in time with my feet as I return downstairs and go in search of Daisy and her handsome daddy. I smile at the housekeeper before stepping out into the garden and taking another deep breath to steady my nerves.
What have I got myself into?
I needn’t have worried because Sebastian—as he asks me to call him—puts me at ease immediately.
‘Please make yourself at home. If there’s anything you need, just ask Mrs Johnson, our wonderful housekeeper, and she’ll be happy to arrange it. Or you can ask Daisy. She doesn’t miss a trick, and knows where everything is, don’t you Daisy chain?’
Daisy crinkles up her adorable, freckled nose and smiles to reveal gaps where her baby teeth have fallen out. She reaches for my hand and squeezes it. ‘Don’t worry, Nathalie,’ she says solemnly. ‘I will show you where everything is.’
Sebastian winks at me. ‘You’re in expert hands,’ he says, and I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks and struggle to banish it before he notices. Even at twenty-eight, I still blush sometimes, and I hate that about myself.
When I was a teenager, I blushed like a tomato, but it doesn’t get the better of me as often now.
My mother died when I was twelve, and my father fell apart. He died a few years later and my sister and I had to go into foster care. Some say he died of alcoholism, but my theory is he died of a broken heart. So, it’s been just me and my sister clinging to each other since then.
Sabine has a lovely long-term boyfriend, and a great new job she’s thrilled about. Now she’s all grown up and settled, I finally gave myself permission to follow my dreams. I feel like it’s the right time to have an adventure of my own after years of being the responsible older sister.
Our mother was an English teacher before she got sick, and she used to love telling us stories in English. She was a passionate anglophile and spent time in England before she married. My memories of her have faded and are blurred around the edges, but I can still see her sitting on the edge of our bed lulling me and Sabine to sleep with her fascinating tales. I know it would please my mother that I’ve made it to London.
ButI’m going to have to be careful around my new boss if I’m to make it through a year of living with him.
CHAPTER4
Nathalie
I scan the faces in the restaurant, searching for my best friend. She waves and stands up as I walk towards her. We kiss and hug and then kiss again before I sit down opposite her at the small table.
‘You’re glowing,’ Juliette says, beaming at me.
‘As are you! You look exactly the same,’ I say.
‘And there was me thinking I look like a glamorous Parisian in London,’ she says, laughing.
‘And you do. You looktrès chic, ma chérie,’ I say. ‘Just as beautiful as always.’
I decline the offer of a glass of wine from the bottle on the table. ‘I hired a car for a few days so I can explore the area a bit.’
‘That’s brave of you,’ she says, taking a sip of wine. ‘You won’t need a car here,’ she declares in a dramatic whisper. ‘The traffic in London is an absolute nightmare—even worse than Paris—if that’s possible.’
