Runaway Lawyer Falls in Love with Billionaire

Chapter 3

“Well, we’re far more relaxed, you’ll be glad to hear!” Tanya pushes open a door. “This is the master bedroom … the second bedroom …”

As we walk down the corridor she opens and closes doors and shows me four-poster beds and swishy curtains and matching upholstered ottomans, until my head swims. I don’t know if it’s too much floral wallpaper or whatever was in those migraine pills—but I’m feeling more lightheaded by the minute.

“The green bedroom … As you will know, we don’t have children or pets.… Are you a smoker?” Tanya suddenly demands.

“Um … no. Thanks.”

“Not that we mind either way.”

We descend a small flight of stairs and I grab on to the wall to keep myself steady.

“Are you all right?” Eddie catches my arm.

“I think those tablets were a bit strong …” I mumble.

“They can be.” Tanya gives me a considering look. “You haven’t drunk any alcohol today, have you?”

“Er … well, yes …”

“Aaah.” She pulls a face. “Well, maybe you should have a little rest before you leave. What a good thing we’ve come to the staff accommodation!” She opens the last door with a flourish.

All the rooms in this house are huge. This one is about the size of my flat, with pale walls and stone mullioned windows overlooking the garden. It has the plainest bed I’ve seen yet in this house, vast and square and made up with crisp white bed linen.

I fight a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to lie down on it and sink into oblivion.

“Lovely,” I say politely. “It’s … a gorgeous room.”

“Good!” Eddie smacks his hands together. “Well, Olivia. I’d say you’ve got the job!”

I look at him dumbly.

Job?

“Eddie!” snaps Tanya. “You can’t just offer her the job! We haven’t finished the interview!”

Interview?

“We haven’t even given her a full job description!” Tanya is still laying into Eddie. “We haven’t been through any of the details!”

“Well, go through the details, then!” retorts Eddie. Tanya shoots him a look of fury and clears her throat.

“So, Olivia,” she says in formal tones. “Your role as full-time housekeeper will comprise—”

“I’m sorry?”

Tanya clicks her tongue in exasperation. “Your role as full-time housekeeper,” she says, more slowly, “will comprise all cleaning, laundry, and cooking. You will wear a uniform and maintain a courteous and respectful …”

My role as—

These people think I’m applying to be their housekeeper?

I’m too dumbfounded to speak.

“ … full board and lodging,” Tanya is saying, “and four weeks holiday a year.”

“What’s the salary?” says Eddie with interest. “Are we paying her more than the last girl?”

I think Tanya might murder him, there and then.

“I’m so sorry, Olivia!” Before I can even open my mouth she’s dragged Eddie out of the room and banged the door, whereupon a furious, muted argument breaks out.

I look around the room, trying to gather my wits.

They think I’m a housekeeper. A housekeeper! This is ridiculous. I have to put them right. I have to explain the misunderstanding.

Another wave of wooziness engulfs me and I sit down on the bed. Then, before I can stop myself, I lie back on the cool white cover and close my eyes. It’s like sinking into a cloud. It’s been a long day. A long, exhausting, painful nightmare of a day. I just want it to be over.

“Olivia, I’m sorry about that.” I open my eyes and struggle up to see Tanya coming back in, followed by a pink-faced Eddie. “Before we continue, did you have any questions about the post?”

I stare back at her, my head swirling. This is the moment where I have to explain there’s been a big mistake. That I’m not a housekeeper, I’m a lawyer.

But … nothing comes out of my mouth.

I could stay here one night, flashes through my brain. Just one night. I could sort out the misunderstanding tomorrow.

“Um … would it be possible to start tonight?” I hear myself saying.

“I don’t see why not—” begins Eddie.

“Let’s not jump ahead of ourselves,” Tanya interrupts pointedly. “We have had quite a few promising applicants for this post, Olivia. Several quite dazzling. One girl even had a diploma in French Cordon Bleu cookery!”

Something inside me stiffens, like an automatic reflex.

Is she suggesting—

Is she implying that I might not get this job?

I regard Tanya silently. Somewhere, down inside my bruised state of shock, I can feel a tiny flicker of the old Olivia returning. I can beat some French Cordon Bleu cookery girl.

I have never failed an interview in my life.

I’m not about to start now.

“So.” Tanya consults her list. “You’re experienced in all forms of laundry?”

“Naturally.” I nod.

“And are you Cordon Bleu trained?” It’s clear from her expression that nothing less will pass the test.

“I trained under Michel de la Roux de la Blanc.” I pause. “His name obviously speaks for itself.”

“Absolutely!” says Tanya, glancing uncertainly at Eddie.

We’re sitting in the conservatory again, ten minutes later, and I’m sipping a cup of coffee, which Eddie made for me. Tanya is firing a series of questions at me that sound like they come from a how-to-hire-your-housekeeper pamphlet. And I’m answering every single one with total confidence.

Deep down in my brain I can hear a little voice calling out, What are you doing? Olivia, what the hell are you DOING?

But I’m not listening. I don’t want to listen. Somehow I’ve managed to block out real life, the mistake, my ruined career, the whole nightmare of a day—everything else in the world except this interview.

“Could you give us a sample menu?” Tanya lights another cigarette. “For a dinner party, say?”

Food … impressive food …

Suddenly I remember Maxim’s last night. The souvenir birthday menu.

“I’ll just consult my … notes.” I unzip my bag and surreptitiously scan the Maxim’s menu. “For a formal dinner, I would serve … er … seared foie gras with an apricot glaze … lamb with minted hummus … followed by orange-chocolate soufflé with two homemade sorbets.”

Take that, Cordon Bleu girl.

“Well!” Tanya looks astounded. “I must say, that’s … very impressive.”

“Marvelous!” Eddie looks like he’s salivating. “Seared foie gras! You couldn’t knock some up for us now?”

Tanya shoots him an annoyed look. “I’m assuming you have a reference, Olivia?”

A reference?

“We will need a reference.…” Tanya begins to frown.

“My reference is Lady Freya Edgerly,” I say, in sudden inspiration.

“Lady Edgerly?” Tanya’s eyebrows rise and a pink flush starts slowly creeping up her neck.

“I have been associated with Lord and Lady Edgerly for many years,” I reply gravely. “I know Lady Edgerly will vouch for me.”

Tanya and Eddie are both staring at me, agog.

“You cooked for them, did you?” inquires Eddie. “Breakfasts and so forth?”

“Naturally. Lord Edgerly was very fond of my signature dish, eggs Benedict.” I take a sip of water.

I can see Tanya pulling what she clearly imagines are cryptic faces at Eddie, who is surreptitiously nodding back. They might as well have Let’s Have Her! tattooed on their foreheads.

“One final thing.” Tanya takes a deep drag on her cigarette. “You will be answering the phone when Mr. Geiger and myself are out. Our image in society is very important. Please, would you demonstrate how you will do it?” She nods at a phone on a nearby table.

They cannot be serious. Except … I think they are.

“You should say, ‘Good afternoon, the Geiger residence,’ ” prompts Eddie.

Obediently I get up, walk across the room, and lift the receiver.

“Good afternoon,” I say in my most charming, head-school-prefect tones. “The Geiger residence. How may I help?”

Eddie and Tanya look like all their Christmases have come at once.

Seven

I wake the next morning to an unfamiliar, smooth white ceiling above me. I frown in puzzlement, then lift my head a little. The sheets make a strange rumpling sound as I move. What’s going on? My sheets don’t sound anything like that.

But of course. They’re the Geigers’ sheets.

I sink comfortably back into my pillows—until another thought strikes me.

Who are the Geigers?

I screw up my face, trying to remember. I feel as though I’m both hungover and still drunk. Snatches of yesterday are vivid in my mind, amid a dense fog. I’m not sure what’s real and what’s a dream. I came on the train … yes … I had a headache … Paddington Station … walking out of the office …

Oh, God. Oh, please, no.

With a sickening whoosh the whole nightmare comes rushing back. The memo. Third Union Bank. Fifty million pounds. Asking Gabe if I had a job left …

His silence …

My career is wrecked. My life as I knew it is over.

At last I push back the covers and get out of bed, feeling weak and spacey. This time yesterday I was in my kitchen, getting ready for work, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen. In another world—in a parallel universe to this one—I would be waking up today a partner of Carter Spink. I’d be surrounded by messages of congratulation.

I squeeze my eyes tight, trying to escape the sickening if-only thoughts. If I’d seen the memo earlier—if I had a tidier desk—if Arnold hadn’t given me that loan agreement—

But there’s no point. I walk to the window and take deep gulps of fresh air. What happened happened. All I can do is deal with it. Until this moment in time my whole life has been mapped out to the hour. Through exams, through holiday internships, the rungs of the career ladder … I thought I knew exactly where I was headed. And now I find myself in a strange room in the middle of the countryside, my career in ruins.

Plus … there’s something else. Something’s nagging at me. A final piece of the jigsaw still missing in my dazed brain. It’ll come to me in a minute.

I lean against the windowsill and watch a man on the distant horizon walking his dog. Maybe things are salvageable. Maybe it’s not all as bad as I thought. Gabe didn’t actually say I’d lost my job. I have to call him—and find out just how bad it is. I take a deep breath and run my hands through my tangled hair. God, I flipped out yesterday. When I consider the way I acted, running out of the office, jumping on a train … I was really on another planet. If it weren’t for the Geigers being so understanding—

My train of thought halts abruptly.

The Geigers.

Something about the Geigers. Something I’m not remembering … something that’s ringing slight alarm bells …

I turn round and focus on a blue dress hanging on the wardrobe door. Some kind of uniform, with piping. Why would there be a—

The alarm bells are getting louder. They’re starting to clang wildly. It’s coming back to me like some kind of terrible, drunken dream.

Did I take a job as a housekeeper?

For a few instants I cannot move. Oh, God. What have I done? What have I done?

My heart starts to thump as I take in my situation properly for the first time. I am staying in a strange couple’s house under completely false pretenses. I’ve slept in their bed. I’m wearing one of Tanya’s old T-shirts. They even gave me a toothbrush, after I invented a suitcase-stolen-on-the-train story. The last thing I remember is hearing Tanya gloating on the phone. “She’s English!” she was saying. “Yes, speaks English perfectly! Super girl. Cordon Bleu trained!”

I’ll have to tell them it was all lies.

There’s a rapping at my bedroom door and I jump in fright.

“Olivia?” Tanya’s voice comes through the door. “May I come in?”

“Oh! Um … yes!”

The door opens and Tanya appears, wearing pale pink exercise clothes with a diamanté logo.

“I’ve made you a cup of tea,” she says, handing me the mug with a formal smile. “Mr. Geiger and I would like you to feel very welcome in our house.”

“Oh!” I swallow nervously. “Thanks.”

Mrs. Geiger, there’s something I need to tell you. I’m not a housekeeper.

Somehow the words don’t make it out of my mouth.

Tanya’s eyes have narrowed as though she’s already regretting her kind gesture. “Don’t think you’ll be getting this every day, of course! But since you weren’t feeling well last night …” She taps her watch. “Now you’d better get dressed, Young Master Nathaniel will soon be home, We’ll expect you down in ten minutes. We only have a light breakfast as a rule. Toast and coffee. Then we can discuss the menu for the week.”