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My rent is doubling.Doubling.Oh fuck.
For a moment, I want to sink to my knees and start bawling my eyes out because I could barely afford this shit hole before, and I definitely will not be able to stretch my meager budget and savings to cover such a jump.
But I can't crumple. I have to push forward and deal with this. It's one more thing, but I need to handle it. The only thing that's kept me going over the last decade has been a thread of iron in my will, and even though it's wavering, it's all I've got. There is one option for me. It's not a great one, but what could it hurt? Europe is so far away. America is a whole different continent,a world away from everything that tried to sink me. I can't be haunted by my past anymore.
I grab my phone.
"Gina?" I say as soon as she picks up. I don't even wait for her to reply. "Hey. I want in. Do you have any jobs you're interviewing for right now? Are you still looking?"
I close my eyes and wait for her answer.
Because I am truly, and completely out of other options.
2
Mason
There's a knock at my door, and it pulls me out of my work. Again. The first interruption had been Avery, the butler, escorting in one of our family lawyers and a crisis management expert to deal with Benedict'slatestscandal. A bar-brawl in North Hollywood. He might've been marquis of the whole damn lot, but he needed to learn to control himself.
And now, another disturbance. I hope it's less irritating than the last. The business of the estate won't run itself, and it will only get worse if I'm constantly being interrupted. It's been three weeks of this since Madeline's nanny—
I won't think of it. I close my eyes to banish the vision from my mind. I'd had plans for her. But again, my younger brother saw fit to interfere. Again.
"Come in," I command, knowing that the sooner I deal with this inconvenience, the better. My day will only get longer if I put off whoever is outside in the hallway.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Harris, enters with a brief curtsey. We've worked too long together for me to stand entirely on protocolwith her, and she's getting on in years. I will not demand the deep curtseys and bows from my elder staff. I'm not my brother.
Although my choice to relax on etiquette stays within the walls of my office.
Outside of this place where my most cherished possessions reside, I rule with an iron fist.
"Your grace," she says by way of greeting, and I turn completely from my computer screen. "The agency has sent over a list of recommended names for Lady Madeline's nanny. Did you want to review their photos and resumes?" She has a tablet in her hand, and she looks tired. She's been running double duty, caring for my daughter and managing the staff under her command. There were times she had to raise my younger siblings and me, so I know she's up to her current task.
But for how long? I can't keep putting it off.
"Of course, bring it here," I say, and she sets the tablet on the leather blotting pad on my desk. The first girl is blonde. No, never. I flick through a few more. They're all wrong, though, their headshots might have been smiling, but they aren't what this household needs.
Someone like the last girl. She had almost been perfect. If only she hadn't fallen for my brother's stupid games. I can still hear her sniveling as she cried and begged me to let her keep her place. After she let Benedict touch her? Never. I banished her from my sight, no matter though it caused Madeline to cry for a week. My daughter will get over it. The influencer of a harlot and a slut on my child? Irredeemable. My house only has room for those who can obey me in all things. I only tolerate Benedict because he is, for now, my heir.
"Are there any that suit you, your grace?" Mrs. Harris asks, and I sigh.
"Not—" I pause, coming to the end of the list. It's a grainy headshot, not in the quality of the others, but the subject has long curling brown hair, and— "This one." I say, pointing to the screen. "What are her qualifications?" I tap through to her resume—a few years of education and Au Pair experience abroad. Well, if she's traveled somewhat, that gives her a leg up on most of the candidates. I need someone who won't blanche at a plane ride. And isn't afraid to eat strange and unfamiliar foods. As well… it's her eyes, dark brown, surrounded by a heartbreaker's set of lashes. She's relatively plain other than that, which might convince my asshole brother to stay away from her. Not a flashy court beauty or one of the more elegant maids that know they're going to do better on their backs than mopping floors but want the security of working for a great house to protect them.
But something is charming about her. Something that reminds me in a way of Madeline.
"Interview her. I want her for the job unless she's a complete idiot," I pause. "But make her want it, don't simply hand it to her," I say, pushing the tablet across the desk to her. Mrs. Harris takes it.
"Her, your grace? But there were so many more experienced—"
I cut her off with a dismissive wave of my hand.
"I want someone who can learn. The last girl knew too much about how she thought things should be done. Madeline requires someone I can mold." I'm thinking aloud, and Mrs. Harris gives me a curious look.
"You intend to take her training on personally, my lord?" She's right to ask. It's unusual and bordering on inappropriate.
"No, of course not, that would fall under your jurisdiction, of course," I say smoothly, and her feathers are still ruffled, but she looks somewhat appeased. "I just don't want someone coming in who has all these ideas that don't fit with how you run this household and how I want Madeline raised."
Mrs. Harris nods in agreement.
