Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“So what happened with you and Laila?” he says, point-blank.
Even drunk, I know to keep my facial expressions controlled.
“What do you mean?” I ask carefully, though my pitch sounds funny.
“You know what I mean,” he says earnestly. From the way he’s staring at me, I’m not sure if he actually knows something or if he’s suspicious and trying to ensnare me into admitting it.
Fuck.
I open my mouth to speak, then decide to drink some more of my beer instead. Good ol’ beer, always saving the day when things get awkward.
“I know you’re sleeping together,” he says.
Oh fuck.
“What was that?” I ask, blinking, hoping he buys my look of shock and confusion.
Magnus gives me a tired sigh. “I said I know you’re sleeping together. You don’t have to play ignorant.”
I have two choices here. I could continue to deny this and call his bluff. Or I can admit it. If I admit it, I could be fired. In fact I most likely will be. I wasn’t hired to sleep with the nanny, and admitting that I’ve been with Laila means that he might look back on other instances, such as what happened in the ship museum, and think that I lost my nerve because I was distracted by Laila (which wasn’t the case).
Maybe you should be fired, a voice inside my head says. This voice doesn’t sound drunk at all. It sounds sober. Maybe you deserve it. Laila opened herself up to you, and you shut her down because you were scared. For the second time. Maybe you should admit what happened and give up your job because Laila deserves to be in that house, but you certainly do not, especially if you’re afraid your feelings for her complicate your job.
But if I admit it, that means Laila might get fired too.
Only one thing left to do.
“I think I should quit,” I tell Magnus.
His eyes bug out. “What?” he exclaims.
I hate it. I hate that I’m saying this, and maybe if I were sober there would be some other way, but I’m saying it anyway. “I quit. I quit the job. I shouldn’t be working for your family anymore.”
Magnus looks around, as if to check if anyone is listening, then looks back to me and shakes his head. “No. James. No. You aren’t quitting.”
“You can’t tell me what to do if I quit. You’re literally not the boss of me.”
Okay, now I sound like a bloody child.
“Then I think I’m allowed to know why you’re quitting,” he says. “You owe me that much.”
“I don’t think I’m a good fit,” I tell him. “I think…there’s someone better equipped for your family.”
He stares at me for a moment, then slowly shakes his head. “You’re really willing to let go of your job for her?” he asks in awe.
“What?”
He rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “James. You must think I’m an idiot. And I don’t blame you for thinking that because most of the time I am an idiot. I’m the first to admit it. But I did my due diligence when I hired you. Which meant I was very thorough in asking Eddie questions. And wouldn’t you like to know a surprising piece of info that Eddie told me?”
Oh no. Bloody hell.
“What?” I ask, the word barely audible.
“He told me that you had an affair with their nanny.”
Jesus Christ.
Eddie knew? He knew?!
Magnus continues, eyes dancing like he’s delighting in blowing my mind. “And that their nanny was of course Laila. So, naturally, I had to hire you.”
I do a hard blink. “What? That’s why you hired me?”
He lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. “Well, I knew that you were good at your job and that’s what really mattered. Eddie told me that you might not appreciate being out in the countryside, and that you really wouldn’t appreciate working with Laila again, but you see, I like a little chaos in my life, if you haven’t noticed. I thought it would be amusing. And it has been.”
Holy fuck.
“You’re sick in the head,” I tell him, half joking.
He grins at me. “I know that. And honestly, Eddie thought it was a brilliant idea too. I guess he thought you needed to grow up or something.”
“Grow up?!” I exclaim, fingers pressed into the table. A few people in the bar turn to look, then go back to their drinking.
“You don’t agree with that assessment?” he asks, taking a casual sip of beer.
My mouth opens, closes, and I’m hit with that sad realization that he’s right. I did need to grow up. And, obviously, I haven’t.
“So what happened with you and Laila?” he goes on. “Why did the both of you go from staring into each other’s eyes like Kate and Leo on the Titanic, to her telling you she’d never let go and pushing you off the floating door?”