Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“Don’t worry, Alex. I will find you the perfect nanny. I promise.”
I didn’t have a lot of trust stored up at the moment, but when Serenity made that promise, I believed her. “Then I hope we’ll be doing business together very soon.”
She stood and walked with me to another room Sasha was singing to my daughter. My baby stared up at her as if she was the most interesting person she had ever seen.
“Oh Alex, I have no doubt that we will.”
Chapter 4
Sasha
Istood on the sidewalk before a tall glass and cement building that stretched into the clouds. It was the absolute height of luxury, I could tell as someone who grew up surrounded by wealth, but even I was intimidated by the ostentatious display. It was a nice change of pace from the large mansions with acres of land that stretched in all directions that had dominated my professional life for the past decade, so I decided to embrace the difference.
It won’t be so bad.
It couldn’t possibly be all that bad since Mr. Witter was determined to pay me double what I’d made for the past five years. Serenity had assured me that I would earn the pay hike with all the extras that came with working for a man like Mr. Witter, but how could I turn down the opportunity to fatten my future savings? I couldn’t. There would come a time when my life would no longer accommodate a live-in nanny position, and I would have my savings to fall back on.
And your trust fund, that annoying bitch that lived in my subconscious reminded me the way she always did.
Yes, I had a trust fund, but in all the years since I left Connecticut, I’d only used it once. I lived on my salary and that was that. The fact that it pissed off my dad only made it feel that much better.
The day was sunny and warm, but as I stepped into the black and silver marble lobby of Mr. Witter’s building, I was instantly hit with a shot of cold air that sent a shiver down my spine. It’s not an omen, I told myself and put on my best smile for the uniformed doorman with the salt and pepper hair.
“Hi, Barry. I’m Sasha and I’m here for Mr. Witter.”
He looked me up and down with a studious gaze that was almost offensive. “You’re here for Mr. Witter?”
“I am.” I kept my smile in place because that’s how I’d been trained my entire life, but the disdain, or maybe it was disbelief, in his grey-green gaze put me on edge.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you up.” He didn’t make a call or look at a list, which meant he was simply rejecting me.
“Mind telling me why?”
“Yes, I do mind, actually.”
Oh, he wanted to play it that way? Okay. I was used to people treating me a certain way because I was considered ‘the help’ or because I was a lot curvier than the average woman even down here in Texas, but that didn’t mean I tolerated that nonsense. After all, I was Sasha Turner, daughter of the media mogul Bradley Rutherford Turner. No one treated me like that, not because I was someone important, but because I was someone, period.
“What if I told you that Mr. Witter was expecting me?”
Barry tossed his head back and laughed. “You think you’re the first woman to try that line with me, sweetheart? You’re not, which means you’re not going up.”
I frowned at his words. Did women often try to get inside Mr. Witter’s apartment? I mean sure he was big and classically handsome with his shaggy blond hair and sparkling green eyes, but lying to get into his apartment was a bit much. Wasn’t it?
“You should leave before you embarrass yourself, Miss.”
That was it, that look of pity in his eyes pissed me off more than I could possibly explain. I leaned across the tall marble counter that kept him separate from the visitors, narrowed my gaze and lowered my voice.
“Look, Barry, I don’t know who you think I am or what you think my motives are, and frankly I don’t give a shit. But what I can tell you is that if I leave now, I’m not coming back, and if that happens you will be the one out of a job. So please, for both of our sakes, call Mr. Witter and tell him that Sasha Turner is downstairs and she wishes entry to his apartment.”
He sized me up for a long minute before deciding to hedge his bets and save his job, picking up the phone and talking discreetly into the receiver.
“Send her up!” Alex barked loud enough that I heard him.
“Right away, sir.” Barry turned to me with an apology in his eyes that I chose to ignore. “You have to understand…,” he began but I cut him off.