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“Get in.”
She climbs back in the Range Rover, and I follow, getting in the passenger side.
“Did you sign it?”
Nodding, I pull the envelope out of my bag.
She snatches it from me and takes the document out, flipping to the last page to see my signature at the bottom. Nodding, she appears satisfied and slings it over her shoulder onto the back seat. Then she sets off, driving away from the park and my vehicle.
“Hey, wait! What about my car?”
“We need to keep moving. I’ve also jammed your mobile and any possible listening devices. I’ll return you to your car when we’ve finished.”
Hoping she’s right, I press my lips together and pray that I haven’t just been kidnapped.
“So?”
“I’m going away for six months,” she starts. “I need you to take over the tasks at the house while I’m gone.”
“Okay, so why all the cloak and dagger? Do you guys work for MI6?”
She blinks but remains silent.
Shit. Do they work for MI6?
That was a throwaway comment, but now I think I’m onto something. It would make so much sense if they were spies.
“My brother is a recluse. He runs a very large global empire, but he is the target of many enemies, and some that are considered friends.”
Definitely spies.
“I need you at the house for six months, and when I return, if things work out, I’d like you to stay. You will be paid the one mil I already offered up front, and then your annual salary would be one million pounds, paid in six-month increments up front. This is for all services required by the household and to keep your mouth shut about what you see or overhear or are told during the course of your employment. Once this employment is terminated for whatever reason, you will abide by the NDA for the rest of your days.”
“What does the job entail, exactly?” My hands are shaking again. “We are talking big bucks here, but for what?”
“You will cook and clean, deal with the deliveries and the outside world. Gideon has his own private security staff that you will liaise with. They keep the grounds secure.”
“Gideon.”
“My brother.”
Nodding, I tuck that name into the dark recesses of my mind. It’s the first piece of information she’s actually given me that I can’t reveal to anyone, living or dead.
“You will reside on the premises and have no contact with family or friends.”
“What? You want me to cut myself off? What about my parents?”
She shoots me a knowing look. “I know you haven’t spoken to your parents in three months and that you are an only child. I also know that friends are not plentiful in your life. You like to keep to yourself.”
Gritting my teeth, I dislike that assessment. While true, it sounds like I’m a complete loser.
“Why should I trust you or anything you’re telling me? You’ve already lied, threatened me with court and abducted me.”
“I know, and I apologise for the first two. ‘Abduct’ is a bit harsh. We are driving around the village, and I will return you to your car when we are done.”
“What about my clients?”
“I’ve already arranged for someone to take over your duties.”
