Because I Said So: Billionaires Nanny

Chapter 4

“May I help you?”

An elderly lady was standing in the doorway, smiling warmly, and it helped calm the nerves that were swirling around inside my gut. She was short, short, and wearing dark red glasses.

“Um yes, hi, I'm Lara. I saw your ad in the newspaper, and I was hoping I could apply for the job if the positioned hasn't been filled,” I said, smiled and hoped I didn't look as nervous as I was feeling.

“It hasn't been filled yet. Please come in, and I will see if Mr. Dawson has time to speak with you before leaving for his meeting,” she said and opened the door wider. “I'm Sasha. I live next door and have been helping Mr. Dawson with the children until he could find another nanny.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” I tell her and follow her inside.

I'm feeling out of my depths here. I thought what I was wearing for this job interview was nice, but seeing the luxurious items inside the home, they quickly reminded me about my savings account deflating like a balloon.

“Give me one moment, dear,” Sasha said and headed down the hall. I stood in the doorway, chills spreading over my arms, causing my hair to stick up, and I closed the front door.

I took the time to look around the living area. A gigantic TV sat on the wall above a fireplace. Kids' pictures lined the walls, and I can now understand why the man is in need of a nanny. Toys and books laid on the floor of the living room, a tipped over orange juice up was fallen over, drops falling down onto the floor.

Seeing that, I went searching for the kitchen. I discovered it a few minutes later, took a few seconds to admire the beautiful kitchen before heading back towards the living room, and began wiping up the spilled juice.

“Do you always make yourself at home in someone's house?” I jumped, banged my head against the side table, spun around, and noticed the handsomest man I have ever met frowning down at me.

Goodness, he was gorgeous. Dark brown hair, ocean blue eyes, neatly shaved beard, powerful jaw, and lips that begged to be kissed.

Oh, god.

Snap the hell out of it, Lara.

You are here to work, not drool over the guy who could, hopefully, be your new boss.

“I, um, I saw the juice spilling onto the floor and didn't want to just leave it there, sir. That would make a poor impression of me wanting to be your children's nanny,” I explained and fussed at myself for being so nervous.

The man said nothing for several seconds, just kept his hands inside his pockets, stayed leaning against the archway, and that frowned still formed on his lips.

“I really wasn't trying to make myself at home. I just didn't think it was nice of me to not clean up something that I saw,” I rambled on and hoped I sounded coherent when I was still drooling over him inside my head.

“Follow me,” he grunted, headed down the hall, and left me scrambling behind him.

I followed him into another room, his office. He crossed the office, sat in the chair behind his desk, and placed his elbows on it. “Have a seat.” He sighed and waved his hands to the brown leather seats in front of his desk.

“Tell me about yourself,” he ordered.

“Um, well, my name's Lara. I'm twenty-six years old. I graduated from college and have worked for an elementary school since graduating. I love kids. The grade I taught was first grade. I know how to have patience when dealing with young children,” I started explaining why I thought I was good enough to apply for the job. I have plenty of experience taking care of small children. “I have also taken art classes. I can speak both Spanish and French, and I am certified in CPR.”

“Can you cook?”

You will be responsible for cooking meals for the children,” he added.

“I'll be honest with you, I'm a passable cook, but I'm one hell on wheels," baker,” I mumbled, sounding embarrassed.

I should be able to cook better than I do by now, but every time I try a different recipe, I end up missing a step and the dish doesn't come out looking or tasting as it should.

“I don't allow my kids to have sweets,” he growled, peering annoyed about me boosting about my baking skills.

“Why not?” I demanded.

Every kid should be able to eat a few sweets now and then.

“Because I said so,” he snapped.

“I know gluten sugar-free recipes,” I informed him, hoping that would win me a few bonus points. “The children at my school loved the treats I'd bring them.”

He sounds like one of those crazy healthy eating people who don't prefer to eat anything good tasting.

“Have you lived in New York your entire life? My children have very busy schedules when they are not in school, and I expect you to know where the places that they need to be at are located.”

Does the man not realize what a GPS is?

“I have moved here. I have spent a few weeks learning and experiencing the city, and I can assure you, getting your kids to and from those places will not be a problem,” I responded before adding. “Plus, that's what a GPS is for, Mr. Dawson.”

“Why did you move here?” He asked, eyeing me suspiciously, like I was hiding something from him.

“That's personal-” I tried to explain to him. It was a very intimate matter, but he waved his hand rudely, cutting off my words.

“You will look after my children. That is the most personal thing we have to discuss. You can either tell me the reason, or I will assume it is something bad, and this interview will be over.”

He has a point I'd want to be told to. It's better to be safe than to be sorry later on if something terrible happens. He doesn't know the type of woman I am, and with the lifestyle he clearly leads, I am sure he is used to all kinds of manipulating women.

“I found my finance and my twin sister having s*x on our wedding day. I was getting ready to walk down the aisle, and he was not up there waiting for me. Instead, he was balls deep inside my sister in the bathroom. I needed a fresh start and always wanted to come to New York. Is that personal enough, sir?” I asked, more gently than I was feeling. I hated having to tell him that. It was embarrassing, and it makes me look like I can't keep a man happy.

What kind of pathetic woman is she?

I can barely cook, and I couldn't keep my fiancé sexually satisfied.

That's what he was most likely thinking inside his head.

So humiliating.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” he mumbled, looking uncomfortable.

“Thanks,” I told him and plastered a fake smile onto my face. “Next question?” I asked, wanting the conversation to continue, so we might, hopefully, forget about having discussion about my life with one another.

“I bring my children with me to social events and on some business trips with, depending on how long I will be away. I will expect you to accompany us to look after them. Is that a problem?”

“No Sir. I always wanted to travel,” I joked, still feeling uneasy.

“Sorry. What I meant to say is I wouldn't mind traveling with you to help take care of the children,” I added before he could put that annoyed frown back on his face. He doesn't seem like the type of man that does too much laughing in his life.

He continued on.

“The job will come with a room. I'm the CEO of Dawson Industries, and I arrive home most nights past seven pm. I try my best to be home to tuck my children into bed, but occasionally, that doesn't happen,” he sighed.

“I have no problem staying here. I am living in a hotel. It's a lot harder to locate an apartment for rent than I originally thought it would be,” I commented. The little white lie slipped past my lips before I could stop it.

I didn't even look for an apartment yet.

I needed to find a job first.

I tried hard not to squirm in my seat, his blue eyes seeming to see through me as he narrowed his them onto me. “Do you use drugs?”

“Excuse me?” I whispered , shocked that he would ask such a thing.

Did you not hear that I said I was a schoolteacher? I got drug tested every month,” I criticized. “Do I look like I'm on drugs?” I asked, now feeling self-conscious.

“Your clothing is loosely fitting. It's a simple question to ask the woman who will take care of my children every day,” he shrugged and seemed like it was the most obvious question to ask.

“As I have explained to you, I was getting married. I went on a diet to make sure my wedding dress fit me. I paid too much money for it not to fit the day of my wedding,” I snapped, crossed my arms, and contemplated storming out of this office.

“It was just a question. Let me introduce you to my children. If they seem to approve of you, we can continue on with this interview," he told me, pushed his chair back, stood up, and headed towards the door.

“Yes sir,” I said happily, to be done with the game of two personal and embarrassing questions.

“Do not call me that,” he spun around, snarled, an unhappy look now covering his handsome face, and his eyes blazed.

“Why?” I asked, confused and not understanding what boss didn't prefer to be addressed by the word, sir. It was a very respectful term.

“Because I said so,” he snapped and stormed out of his office, leaving me speechless and rushing to catch up to him.