Chapter 5 5

I spin around, filled with horror. "I... I... I'm so sorry," I splutter. "I was checking on Samuel, and I..." I pause as I try to think of a justified reason for me being in here, doing this.

He narrows his eyes, anger oozing from him as he waits.

"I walked past your room and I could smell something nice. I've been wanting to buy my father some new cologne and..." I'm talking way too fast to sound like I'm telling the truth.

He folds his arms over his chest, clearly not believing this bullshit story for a single moment.

"And I wanted to know what cologne it was so I could buy it for my father."

He raises his eyebrow in question. "You think I smell like your father?"

I shake my head. "No. You smell way better than him." My eyes widen. Did I

just say that out loud?

Amusement crosses his face before his eyes drop to my nightdress. "I came back home to retrieve my phone, which I accidentally left on charge." He gestures to his side table and I see his damn phone on charge. "And I find you," he holds out both his hands toward my body, "in a state of undress, standing in my bedroom, smelling my cologne."

I wrinkle my nose and scrunch up my face. "It sounds kind of weird when you say it like that."

He looks at me, deadpan. "It is weird."

I fake a smile and hand him the bottle of cologne. "You should maybe take it as a compliment. Not very many men smell nice enough for me to be so curious. It's actually one of the biggest mistakes a man can make-"

"Enough!" he cuts me off. "This is an invasion of my privacy."

I nod. "I can see why you would think that." I swallow the lump of sand in my throat. Oh fucking hell, get me out of here. This is mortifying. I readjust my nightdress to try and cover my breasts. "It wasn't intended to be creepy."

He lifts his chin in defiance. "We'll talk about this tonight when I have more time." I collect air in my cheeks and nod.

"Now, if you don't mind, will you please go and put some damn clothes on?" he snaps.

"Yes, sir," I whisper. "I'm sorry." I drop my eyes to the floor.

"I need to go to work." He gestures toward the door with his hand. I exhale heavily and start walking.

"Miss Brielle?"

I spin back to him.

"The children go to bed at 8:30 p.m. sharp. I would like a meeting with you then."

"Of course." I hesitate, and then, unable to help it, I blurt out my thoughts, "Are you going to fire me, Mr. Masters?"

His eyebrows rise, and he pauses for a moment. "Let's take the day to reassess?"

My eyes hold his for a moment. "Yes, of course. Have a nice day," I mutter as I leave the room. I feel the heat from his stare on my back as I walk away.

I rush down the stairs as fast as I can, back into the safety of my room, I close the door behind me, lean on it and shut my eyes. I've done a lot of stupid things in my life, but I think that really takes the cake.

I drop to the bed and put my head into my hands as my heart hammers in my chest. What kind of fool gets caught in her new boss's bedroom, in her pyjamas, sniffing his aftershave on her first day of work? Of course, he would forget his stupid phone on that exact day, wouldn't he?

Now if you don't mind, will you please go and put some damn clothes on.

His words run through my mind and I cringe. My thoughts are interrupted as I hear a car door slam outside. I go to the window and peer through the sheer curtain, watching on as Mr. Masters gets into his flashy black car before it slowly disappears down the driveway.

Day one got off to a great start.

What the hell am I doing?

I'm on the other side of the world pretending to be a super nanny. Who was I kidding? I don't know the first damn thing about looking after children and minding my own business. I do know that I don't want to have a meeting with him tonight.

What's he going to say?

I remember the lame excuse I gave him about my father, and I cringe, filled with embarrassment. Oh, I can't face him, it's just too mortifying.

My mind goes to Emerson. I can't stand the thought of letting her down. If I don't have a job then I can't afford to stay in England on our working holiday, and we're both so excited for this adventure.

I stare at the carpet for a moment as I try to think of a solution.

If I just try to work as hard as I can so that I don't get fired, I'll be okay. As soon as I can find another job, I will, and then I'll give my notice and leave. Emerson is tied here to her position for twelve months. I really need to make this work for her.

Just suck it up, princess.

Well, I did come to England for an adventure, and I suppose wearing a skimpy nightdress and getting caught in my boss's bedroom could qualify as such.

It could be worse; he could have caught me masturbating to his photo.

A stupid smile crosses my face. Did he do what I thought he did, though? Did he really take my photo upstairs and get himself off last night, while picturing me, or am I just having some kind of boss fantasy?

I shrug to myself. It doesn't matter either way, and I don't care if he smells stupid hot. He's too old for me. I just have to look after the kids and do my job. Yes, I can do this.

I feel my determination return.

Right, so what's my plan of attack for today?

Get dressed, go back to the main house and be the best damn nanny I can be until I find another job. Yes.

I go the bathroom and stare at my reflection in the mirror. Despite my determination, my face is dejected and sad. It kind of feels weird living with people that aren't my family, and I imagine it will take me some time to adjust. I swallow the lump in my throat.

It will be okay. Just try really hard and it will be okay.

An hour later, I'm sitting at the kitchen table, rolling my fingers. I've finished two cups of coffee and I'm already buzzing.

Am I supposed to wake these kids up?

I glance at my watch to see it's 7:15 a.m.

What time do they have to be at school?

I stand and begin to pace back and forth. I don't know what in hell I'm doing here. Mr. Masters hasn't left any instructions or anything.

The phone on the wall in the kitchen begins to ring, and I look around, confused. Should I answer it?

Ring, ring.

Ring, ring.

I bite my thumbnail and stare at it as it vibrates on the wall. I peer into the living room, and then up the stairs.