Nanny For The Billionaire’s Son

THE NEW JOB LEXA WYETH Sitting in the cramped space that Mrs. Cherry had transformed into her waiting room, it was evident that more work was needed, but that didn't bother me in the slightest. As I sat there, biding my time, I fixated on the number emblazoned on the white piece of paper before me. Across from me, a woman, possibly in her thirties, shot me a frosty look. In a bid to avoid her gaze, I averted my eyes elsewhere. "Number 8," a female voice announced. Scanning the room, I pondered who held that number. "Is number 8 even here?" she huffed in annoyance. Glancing down at the white paper in my hand, my eyes widened, prompting me to abruptly rise from my seat. "Ma'am, I'm here!" I called out, catching her attention. "Were you deaf when I called for you?" she snapped, clearly offended by my actions. Bowing my head, I softly muttered an apology. "Never mind, just follow me," she stated, leading the way as I silently trailed behind her. We stopped in front of a crimson door, and the lady gave a sign for me to enter, so I obliged. As I stood there, I was immersed in the stillness of the office surroundings. "Miss Wyeth, are you planning to dawdle there like a fool, or do I need to expedite this ordeal and call in the next person?" she warned. I apologize as I found myself directly in front of the plump lady, her visage tarnished by poorly applied makeup, giving her an unkempt appearance. Struggling to suppress my amusement, I tried to maintain my composure. "So, Miss Wyeth, it seems this is your fifth attempt at securing a job," she inquired. I forced a smile and nodded. In truth, this was my sixth attempt, and I had been striving to maintain at least some stability in my employment. With each job I landed, a unique set of challenges presented themselves. The fifth job I had recently acquired ended abruptly with me getting into a quarrel which resulted in me being unjustly jailed. A customer at the bar where I was employed had gotten drunk and accidentally bumped into me. Instead of receiving compensation for my injury and an apology, I was promptly laid off. The pain of that unjust dismissal still lingers whenever I think about it. "Lexa, right?" she inquired, to which I nodded. "Can I trust that you won't cause any issues for me?" she questioned. I gazed at her, unsure of how to respond. However, if keeping out of trouble was her primary concern, then I knew I had to make a concerted effort to stay out of any mess. "Ma'am, you can count on me to not let you down," I responded with enthusiasm. "I don't need your trust, I just need to know if you're prepared. My client is extremely particular and does not tolerate any nonsense," she continued. I stayed silent, listening as she continued to talk incessantly about her client's demands and expectations, highlighting his importance without pausing for a breath. "Lexa, are you listening?" she called my name, capturing my attention once more. "Yes, ma'am, I understand. He is a very important person, and I will do my best not to upset him," I repeated her words. "But, ma'am, what exactly will my role entail?" "He needs a nanny for his five-year-old son. The previous nanny he hired was found with hard drugs," she added before turning to face me. "I hope you don't have any involvement with drugs." I pondered whether I should respond to that, as I gave her a reassuring smile. "Mr. Alexander will be conducting your interview. Here is the address," she stated, tossing a piece of paper with the address written on it towards me. Throwing another document my way, she instructed me to sign it. Still contemplating whether to do so, I looked up from the documents at Mrs. Cherry, as everyone knew her. "What's the matter?" she inquired. "What am I signing, exactly?" I asked. "It's an insurance form," she replied, still gazing at her reflection in the mirror in her hand. "But why am I required to sign an insurance?" I questioned. "Because, dear, I can't risk you fleeing if you find yourself in another troublesome situation that could result in your termination," she explained. "If you're not interested in the job, that's okay, dear. There are plenty of others eager to take your place." Biting my lip, I firmly grasp the pen, staring at the document one last time. "You are wasting my precious time," Mrs. Cherry snapped. "Just sign the darn paper. It's not a death sentence." As I inscribe my name on the document, I watch Mrs. Cherry take it away. "Don't I get a copy at least?" I inquire. "And why would you need that?” she questions. "It's a business transaction between us, and I believe I deserve a copy," I respond. Mrs. Cherry gives me a sharp look, signaling her exasperation with me. However, I know I need to protect myself from potential scams, especially from someone like her. "A copy will be sent to you by mail. Now, get out of my office," she commanded angrily. "Oh, and one more thing, Lexa," Mrs. Cherry added sharply. "Mr. Alexander is not your average billionaire, so tread carefully and make sure to be punctual. Many of Alexander's previous nannies were dismissed for being late." "Why are you telling me this?" I questioned. "You seem like a kind girl who wouldn't harm a fly. Do your best to stay on, who knows, you might get lucky," she advised. Without saying a word, I headed towards the door, unlocked it, and made my way outside. The lady who had escorted me passed by with another client. "Good luck surviving in the Stone mansion," she mocked. I sighed, finding her comment rude. I tossed and turned in bed until my hand finally found the alarm clock, silencing its annoying buzz. Sitting up abruptly, I gazed into the empty room. "Hey," Samantha called from the doorway as she peeped in. "Aren't you supposed to be at an interview?" she asked, reminding me of my schedule. Glancing at my table clock, I saw that it was already 7:00 am on the dot. I hurriedly jumped out of bed. "Why didn't you wake me up, Sam?" I exclaimed, pacing back and forth in my room, feeling flustered and confused. "Well, you were sleeping like an angel, and I didn't want to disrupt your beauty sleep," she teased, leaning against the doorpost and shaking her head at the chaotic variety of clothes and panties scattered around. "It wouldn't hurt to clean up your room once in a while," Samantha yelled as I entered the bathroom and emerged moments later with a towel wrapped around my chest. I grabbed a pair of denim jeans, a black top, and the gorgeous scarf my mom had brought back for me from her cousin's wedding in Greece. Running my fingers through my hair to let it flow over my shoulders, I applied some lip gloss, grabbed my bag, and hailed a cab as soon as I stepped outside, showing the driver the address. Stepping out of the cab, I expressed my gratitude to the driver as he pulled away, gazing at the grand and stunning glass mansion before me. The gate loomed large, a transparent barrier signifying extravagance. It was evident that he must be living a life of luxury, and it was no wonder Mrs. Cherry always praised him so highly. Approaching the gate, I was stopped by the security personnel who requested my identification. "And what is your purpose here?" one of them inquired. "Um, I'm here for an interview. I am applying for the nanny position," I managed to reply. The two officers exchanged glances before focusing their attention on me. I sighed in frustration. "We were never informed," one of the officers stated. Confusion filled me. "I was told to come here for an interview at the Stone House," I explained, trying to confirm my location. "We cannot disclose private information, miss," the other officer added. Desperation crept into my voice. "I need to get in there. I can't lose this job. I made a promise to someone and I don't want to disappoint them," I pleaded. "Miss, you're causing a scene. It would be best if you leave for now and return later," one of the officers advised. As I opened my mouth to respond, a dark, ominous car drove up, causing one of the security guards to rush and open the gate. My curiosity was piqued as I wondered who could be inside the vehicle—perhaps someone of importance. Driven by impulse, I approached the car and knocked on the window, despite one of the security guards trying to pull me away. Ignoring their attempts, I persisted. "Miss, please don't do this. I could lose my job," one of the officers pleaded with me. His situation seemed dire, but mine was even worse. The thought of working for that woman sent shivers down my spine. If I didn't land this job, that dreaded fate awaited me. The window of the car inched down slowly, revealing the figure inside. My breath caught as I locked eyes with him, unable to speak. "You," I whispered, my voice barely audible. His gaze was unwavering, cold, and distant as it bore into me, paralyzing me in place. "Sorry, do I know you? Have we met before?" he finally spoke, his eyes still avoiding mine. How could I ever forget the face of the man who had shattered my hopes after our one-night fling? The memory of our shared moment lingered like a bittersweet ghost, haunting me. With his mysterious aura and mesmerizing presence, it was impossible to erase the memory of that magical encounter. And now, as our paths crossed once again, the unanswered questions and unresolved feelings hung over me ominously, leaving me on the edge of a ridge, uncertain of what lies ahead.