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She takes a deep breath, and I notice her fists clenching at her side as she glares at me, crumpling the small bag still clutched in one of her hands. “Babysitting isn’t even part of the job description!”
“Your job description is whatever I make it.”
As her chest heaves with frustration, I find myself wondering absently why it is that I continue to allow her to talk to me so familiarly, to express anything other than approval or at the very least assent to what I say. Perhaps it’s the novelty of it or the fascinating way the passion in her eyes lights her entire face.
I wonder what other kinds of passion that lovely face of hers could show me.
“If that’s all, Miss Martin…” I untuck my rapier from under my arm and loosen the top few buttons of my collared shirt as I open my door. When she looks as if she will argue further, I push my door wider and lift an eyebrow. “Unless you would like to join me?”
Her words splutter and die on her lips, and I smirk.
“I suggest you return to your room and sleep. We have an early start tomorrow.”
***
The minister of finance sits before me in my large office, his flabby blue jowls wobbling as he speaks about the quarterly budget. I find myself entirely unable to concentrate on his monotonous voice. Instead, I am staring absently over his shoulder at my offspring and my assistant, who are sitting in on all of my meetings today.
I’m not sure why, but I find Miss Martin to be a singularly attractive female when I watch her interacting with my son.
He has been his routinely difficult self all day, behaving in that anomalous way of his that has even the best psychologists baffled, let alone the multitude of nannies I’ve hired over the years. And yet this female seems to take his illogical tantrums in stride, unfazed by his tears which should have dried the moment he was able to talk by two years of age, and she even seems amused as she patiently answers fruitless questions like, “If the sky was green, does that mean that the grass would be blue?”
Even more impressively, she’s managed to keep Asili quiet and calm for the last twenty minutes. She’s acquired a tablet device for him on which she’s downloaded some sort of art application, and he sits beside her quietly now as his little fingers swirl over the screen. I’m not sure that I’ve ever seen him so at ease outside of our home.
I decide right then that I will have Miss Martin’s things moved into the previous nanny’s old room so that she’ll be closer to Asili should he need her.
“President Tzelik, if I could draw your attention towards these graphs I’ve created…”
But I can barely keep my gaze on the minister for longer than a few seconds before I’m looking across the room again. My eyes track Miss Martin’s movement as she tucks a stray curl behind her rounded ear, gifting Asili with a broad smile as he tilts the device to show her the strangest drawing I’ve ever seen, with unrealistic figures and incorrect colors.
“…and we’d like to devote more credits towards upgrading our military bases…”
She has an absolutely horrid piece of old technology propped open on the table before her, presumably filled with her university work, and her eyes constantly flick back over her notes while the fingers of her right hand flash over the projected keyboard of her wrist-com as she reorganizes my afternoon appointments, as per my instructions, all while continuing to murmur patiently at Asili.
“If we cut funding from the public healthcare sector here, I project that we’ll be able to—”
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Bezneyik.” I sigh as I stand from behind my ornate desk, effectively cutting off the rest of his droning. “You may leave now.”
I have his summary before me, and I will simply go through that later rather than suffer through his voice now. His secretary has always been quite good at condensing what often takes the old male hours to meander through, in any case.
As he awkwardly lumbers out of my office, I find myself drawn towards the two seated across the room.
“What is this obscene excuse for technology you’re using?” I ask mildly, and I’m slightly puzzled when Miss Martin’s cheeks begin to darken once more with red as I point towards her device. Is she embarrassed at the question? “Please do me a favor and buy yourself a newer model before tomorrow.”
She mumbles something as she quickly closes the device and hides it inside her atrocious bag.
“Pardon me?”
Her eyes flash up at me. Ah, so she is embarrassed and angry. “I said that I can’t afford to.”
I blink. She doesn’t have the credits for such a small thing?
“Take this,” I say, reaching into my jacket and pulling out a metallic swipe card. “There is no limit on the credit use. I’ll key your credentials to it now.”
She stares at the card as I hold it out towards her. “What? Sir, I can’t…”
“Are you trying to reject me again, Miss Martin?” I reach forward and take her hand, pressing the metal to her palm. “Get yourself a holo-note—it will make you more efficient for me. Consider it a work expense.”
She looks down at the card, and then back up at me, and the new expression that sparks across her features is one I haven’t seen yet.
“Mr. Tzelik, I…I don’t know what to say.” Her warm green eyes are large and bright as they stare up at me, and I find myself quite liking this emotion on her. Perhaps even more so than her outrage. “Thank you.”
“Keep the card,” I say on impulse. “Now, come. I have another press conference in half an hour, do I not?”
“Forty minutes, sir,” she mumbles in a flustered sort of manner, and I note the careful way she stores the card as she begins to pack herself and Asili up. “You finished with Mr. Bezneyik a little early.”
