Cassie - 6

Ugh…

The irritable ringing tone of my cell phone instantly shatters the pleasant lull of the deep sleep that I was indulging in. I miserably toss and turn in my bed while the loud vibrating rattle and noisy sound of my ringtone continually chimes without end. When I finally realize that it's faster to simply answer the phone call instead of letting the annoying ringtone ring all the way, my hand shoots out from underneath the comforter to find the phone on my nightstand. After running my hand into some items and also knocking a few things off the counter, I safely secure the cell phone within my grasp and quickly answer it.

"Hello?" I mumble with my eyes still closed.

An ultra cheery female voice greets me on the other end of the line: "Hello! Is this Cassie Hart that I'm speaking with today?"

Hearing the overly peppy and positive tone of her voice makes me feel even more tired than I was before. "Uhh, yeah… That's me," I respond with a slight yawn as I rub the corners of my eyes.

"Perfect! Now I know this is a little last minute, but I'm calling to let you know that Mr. Bishop has an open slot in his schedule for you at 10 o'clock to discuss the details of your employment if you wish to take the job."

My heart practically jumps up while my eyes shoot wide open in pure surprise. Did I just hear her correctly or am I still dreaming? Am I seriously being offered a job right now after how terrible the interviews went? This has to be a dream.

"J-job?" I stutter.

"Yes, is there a problem? I mean, I understand if you can't make it because the scheduled meeting time is cutting it a bit close since it's almost-"

"No!" I suddenly interject as I quickly sit up from my bed. The unexpected excitement and disbelief in my system gets the best of me as I swiftly clear my throat to continue speaking. "It's no problem at all. I can definitely do 10 o'clock. Whatever time is it, I can be there."

An uneasy feeling creeps up on me as my gaze shifts toward the clock that's hanging on the wall. It's almost 9 AM which means there's only an hour left before the meeting actually takes place. Considering I still have to shower, brush my teeth, do my makeup, and get appropriately dressed for the occasion, I'm going to have to seriously haul ass if I want to make this appointment without being late. The possibility of me pulling this off perfectly is incredibly low, but I have to do it -- even if it does mean cutting a few corners here and there.

"All right, great! Mr. Bishop will be waiting for you at the Providence at 10 o'clock, then. I'll let him know that you're onboard with the meeting," the bubbly voice replies.

"Okay, thank you so much! Goodbye."

As soon as the phone call ends, I immediately hop off the bed and strip down to get into the shower. The running water from the showerhead is still slightly cold when I jump into the tub with my toothbrush in hand. I can feel my body shivering a bit as I brush my teeth with one hand and throw shampoo into my hair with the other. Every minute on the clock counts right now, especially since I don't even know how long it'll take me to get to Providence which I assume to be some sort of restaurant.

But I pause and stop brushing my teeth when the strange realization hits me. Even though the woman who called me clearly knew my full name, the name of the establishment that she mentioned doesn't ring a bell to me at all. I slowly begin to wash out the shampoo in my hair while the shower water grows hotter.

Providence? Did I really call up a place like that for a job? And why does the name Bishop sound so irritatingly familiar to me? The truth is right at the tip of my tongue, but I can't seem to spit it out.

I guess I'll have to find out when I get to Providence -- wherever that is.

***

I tensely take another bite of the free bread provided by the restaurant as I glance down at my watch for the sixth time. The clock reads out to be 10:17 AM which is a long 17 minutes past the scheduled meeting time that I'm supposed to have with a man who goes by the name of Mr. Bishop. Normally, I wouldn't mind the tardiness even though it feels a little sloppy for the person who's supposed to be a professional to show up late, but it's different when I'm stuck waiting at a fancy restaurant which is clearly out of my paycheck and out of my comfort zone. The wary looks that I'm getting from all of the waiters as I hesitantly consume the complimentary bread on the table is enough to put me in a bad mood.

An uncomfortable sigh is pulled from my lips as my eyes grab a glimpse of the interior of the restaurant. No matter how I look at it, there's no way I could have passed the interview for an extravagant place like this. Everything from the tableware to the complimentary food screams expensive, luxurious, and wealthy. Even the patrons who are seated within the restaurant give off an air of sophistication as they casually drink their morning wine and place their orders without looking at the price point on the menu.

It almost feels like I'm in a different world when I'm watching these people interact with each other. I can't seem to relate to them at all.

My mood begins to sour as I bite into the piece of bread in my hand and as I take another sip of my sparkling water. The more I linger in this stifling and uncomfortable atmosphere, the more I feel the urge to leave. There's only so many dirty glances that I can take from the workers before I end up reaching my breaking point. I take a slow breath and look down at my watch again. It's 10:23 now.

Seriously, where the hell is this guy?

10 o'clock my ass. This is getting ridiculous.

I shake my head in mild frustration while I bitterly finish my last bite of the bread piece. My legs are about ready to get up from the seat and make a return phone call to the woman who called me in the first place about the job opportunity when a tall man walks past me and promptly takes the seat across from me. Before I can even react to my unexpected visitor, a waiter rushes over to the table to ask: "The usual for you, sir?"

The dark-haired man nods his head in response, "Yes, please."

Once the waiter receives an answer from the man, he leaves almost as quickly as he came. But the impeccable and speedy service from the worker isn't what leaves me utterly dumbfounded and confused. It's the unbelievable sight of the person sitting across from me who has my complete and undivided attention. Despite how much I blink my eyes to try and see the real truth behind the odd scene in front of me, the sight before me doesn't change at all. The same man is still seated right in front of me.

No way.

I blankly stare at the handsome older gentleman with my mouth wide open as he reaches for his glass of water and takes a sip from it. A constant stream of questions along the lines of how and why appear in my head one after another with each passing and silent moment that goes by without an exchange. But no amount of words from me could properly express the level of disbelief and shock that I'm in from the unusual situation that has transpired before me. All I can do in my state of awe is focus on the piercing green eyes which calmly look at me from across the table.

"You-" I start to stammer and stumble over my own words like a nervous idiot. After slowing down to take a deep breath and regain some composure, I swallow down on my fear and ask, "You…Why are you here?"

The man curiously raises his brow at me and leans back in his seat. "I'm here because I'm the one who called you here. Though I'm terribly sorry for the long wait. My secretary couldn't quite get in touch with me for a while and when she finally did, it was already almost 10. I came here as fast as I could."

Even though he's clearly very apologetic about his tardiness, my eyes are too busy bulging at the revelation to remember how upset I was about his delay. "You're Mr. Bishop? The guy who is supposed to be offering me a job?" I scoff.

"Yes, I am," the handsome green-eyed man plainly replies without a hint of jest in his voice. "And I know it's probably a little late for introductions since this is already our third meeting, but I'm Noah Bishop. Taylor's father."

Right. So that's why the name Bishop sounded so familiar.

The remaining strength in my legs give out as I end up sinking back down into my seat. I thought the situation would make a lot more sense once this Bishop guy finally showed up, but his actual appearance only fills me up with even more questions than before; questions like, how did he get my name and my phone number? And what is this mysterious job opportunity that his secretary was talking about over the phone?

My head is practically spinning from all the uncertainties that are lingering in my chest. I loosely shrug my shoulders at him and ask, "So was this whole job offer thing that your secretary was calling me about a joke or-"

"No, it's not a joke," Noah interrupts as he neatly folds his hands in front of himself. He has his mouth opened and ready to speak, but there seems to be a bit of hesitation in his next upcoming statement. He eventually closes his eyes and lets out a small sigh before continuing his explanation.

"I would like to offer you the opportunity to become Taylor's nanny," he states while maintaining direct eye contact with me the whole time. "I understand that you've been looking for a job, and I'm here to present you with one."

"Really?" I suddenly blurt out loud.

Almost everyone in the restaurant pauses from the sound of my abrupt exclamation, their heads swiveling around to see what the noisy fuss is about. My hand immediately moves to cover my mouth when I realize just how loud I was speaking in the peaceful and classy setting. But I can't contain my excitement from the unexpected yet almost-too-good-to-be-true news, especially when the stern expression in Noah's green gaze tells me that he isn't joking around. He actually looks serious about this arrangement.

"Yes, really," Noah responds as he sends an apologetic nod to all of the surrounding customers that I happened to disturb with my unintended shout.

"But wait," I say as a sudden realization hits me. "What happened to the nanny that you said you found for her before? Didn't you mention that you already had someone lined up to take care of Taylor the last time we saw each other?"

My astute remark forces the man to stifle his amused laughter. The stiff and professional exterior that he's been carrying around since he first sat down at the table has crumbled with a single chuckle. I watch his gentle smile light up across his handsome face while my heart slowly flutters in amazement. He's so distractingly attractive when there's an earnest smile on his lips that I tend to briefly forget about what it was that we were even discussing in the first place.

I temporarily lower my gaze away from his dazzling sight in order to suppress my stirring emotions. Although I can feel my chest tensing up from the charming expression that's on his face, I'm still left ultimately befuddled by his unusual reaction to my statement.

After shaking his head for a bit, Noah returns back to his normal stoic self and explains, "Let's just say that Taylor has a way of making all of the nannies that I've hired for her so far quit. Most of them don't even manage to last a month before they tell me that they want to leave." He smirks and adds, "She's not exactly an agreeable child when it comes to strangers, and the nannies don't seem to deem it worthwhile to take care of Taylor because of the added stress she brings them."

What?

My brow heavily furrows at the sound of Noah's reasoning. Everything that he's been saying so far paints Taylor as some sort of a devil child when my personal experience with the young girl has been nothing but pleasant. Compared to some of the other bratty children that I've seen around her age, Taylor's one of a kind with her sweet, respectful, and independent behavior. I can't picture her as a problem child at all.

But even if Noah is just mistaken about Taylor's disposition, there's still another matter that needs to be cleared and discussed before I can fully accept that this whole situation isn't a dream.

"Okay," I cross my arms and nod my head. "Even if I do agree to this job - why me? I'm sure you know that I'm highly unqualified for this, and you have all the money in the world to hire someone who can easily do the nanny job better than I ever could. So why does it have to be me?"

"Fair question," he smiles as he reaches for his wineglass to take a sip from it. The brilliant gleam of his green gaze continues to intently watch me even while he's drinking his wine. I anxiously stare back at him until he sets the empty glass back down.

"The main difference between you and all the other nannies that I've picked out for Taylor so far is that Taylor actually likes you. She likes you a lot, and I'm willing to take a chance on hiring you based off that fondness that she holds for you," Noah confidently claims as he leans forward in his seat. "Besides, you've already shown me a bit of what you're capable of when it comes down to protecting her, and that's enough for me to give it a try. As long as you're up for it, of course."

A strong feeling of hesitation grips me as Noah unintentionally places the pressure and spotlight on my pending decision. Despite previously believing that I would probably jump at the chance to work as a nanny for a kid like Taylor, I gradually begin to feel a heavy weight on my shoulders from the thought of it. Truthfully, I have little to no experience dealing with children on a regular basis, especially when it comes down to taking care of them beyond the usual and expected responsibilities. The closest thing that I can think of which might attest to my ability as a nanny would be how I used to watch over my younger brother when we were kids. However, even that doesn't seem enough to justify my skills.

I'm just a glorified babysitter.

The grueling decision has me at my wits' end when Noah slips a document onto my side of the table. "My words might not be able to convince you, but maybe this will," he slyly adds.

I suspiciously eye the folder that's been placed in front of me, my wary gaze glancing down at the document and back up at his face for some clarification as to what's within the folder. But the man patiently waits for me to take the plunge of curiosity on my own. My hand cautiously flips open the file where I find a bunch of stapled papers which appear to be some sort of a job contract. I begin reading through the contents written on each piece of paper until my eyes suddenly stop at a six-figure number staring at me in the face.

Holy shit.

A slight gasp slips out from my throat as I read the number over again in my head. Six-figures. I would be paid six-figures for taking care of Taylor as the role of her nanny. That's more than triple the amount that I would be making at any other job I've applied for, and it's pretty much a ridiculous salary number which I don't think I would ever be able to achieve over the span of my entire lifetime. I would never have to worry about making rent or paying the bills on time if I took this job. This amount of money is more than enough to live comfortably for the rest of my life.

Is this contract honestly for real?

My head continues to slowly shake back and forth in pure disbelief of the astronomical number being presented to me. Even though the six-figures are clearly printed in black ink on the page, it's hard to believe and accept that this is the actual salary number that's being offered to me. I'd be set for life with that kind of money, and that sense of security and stability is difficult to decline with the current position that I'm in. Any doubts that I might have about my performance in taking up the position as Taylor's nanny will have to be stowed away. I just have to step up my game and do the job right.

How hard can taking care of a 6-year old girl be anyway?

"You've convinced me. I mean, how can I realistically say no to an offer like this? I'll do it. I'll become Taylor's nanny," I say with my head held high and a bit of shaky excitement in my voice.

But Noah simply nods his head as though he was expecting that kind of compliance and answer from me. There's not a hint of surprise in his green-eyed stare which looks at me without much of an expression besides a distant one. It's virtually impossible to tell whether or not he's pleased or unhappy with the news when his cold poker face is on.

"Just so you know, I'll need you to start working right away," the man mentions as he takes out his phone and begins typing on it.

"Yeah, that's not a problem," I reply.

"Good," Noah says as he suddenly gets up from his seat and fixes up his suit jacket. "My secretary will contact you with the rest of the details regarding your duties. You'll hear everything you need to know from her," he adds.

I acknowledge his brief instruction with a nod of my head and quietly watch the refined older man begin to take his leave. My eyes naturally start to follow the movements of his hands without thinking, the motions of his slender fingers brushing off the creases in his outfit. There's a certain air and quality to his simple actions and gestures which makes it hard to look away from him. It must be that unintentional yet seductive mystique which surrounds him in whatever he does. And it certainly doesn't help the situation that he's got that mature and seasoned presence on top of his good looks.

I'd be lying to myself if I didn't admit that I'm a little bit attracted to him, even if he is much older than I am. It's truly difficult to resist a man who's handsome, sophisticated, and settled.

A warm glow spreads throughout my body while my gaze observes each individual feature of his attractive face. With striking green eyes like those and a cleanly-shaven beard to compliment his defined facial structure, it's no surprise that he would land a beauty like the blonde I met at the library. But just thinking about the insufferable type of women that he's into dating fills me with an irritable feeling of envy. I force myself to shake off the irrational jealousy that's stirring within my chest when I look up at his face and realize that Noah's been watching me creepily stare at him.

Oh, shit.

My heart immediately tenses up when we make eye contact which causes me to look away in shame. There's no doubt that he caught me awkwardly gawking at him, especially with the way he waited for me to notice him. I bite my lip and keep my anxious stare fixated on the empty plate filled with loose bread crumbs as I wait for Noah to walk away from the table. A small sigh of relief escapes my lips when I finally notice him moving out of his seat in the corner of my eye, his presence gradually walking toward the exit of the restaurant.

Yet on his way out, Noah abruptly stops in his tracks while he's standing right next to me. "And one more thing," he says in a grave tone of voice. The man turns his face toward me so that I can see the stern expression in his cold eyes. "Just remember that this job is strictly business only. It'd be a pain for me if you overstepped your boundaries."

A chilling tingle runs down my spine from the ominous message that Noah nonchalantly relays to me. I can't tell if he's talking about boundaries in reference to me getting too close to Taylor or if he's sending me a warning in regards to my slight yet obvious attraction toward him. As much as I want to believe that it's the former instead of the latter, my heart can only feel the grim intent behind his words which are telling me to keep my distance from him. He clearly doesn't trust me to not mix business with pleasure which is an unwarranted and frankly insulting belief that I assume to be held by him due to my age. But honestly, he's got a lot of nerve to assume that I would risk my integrity and position to pursue a man like him.

What an arrogant piece of shit.

I grit my teeth and force a smile, "I'm sure I won't forget that fact, Mr. Bishop. You won't ever have to worry about that happening."

My bitter gaze dares to stare back at him with a defiant glare in my eyes. He might be right about the fleeting emotions and naïve infatuation that I have for him, but that doesn't give him the right to offhandedly insult and embarrass me like that. And even though every muscle and inch in my body is telling me to not take the job offer because of my dignity at stake, I quell those urges with a firm swallow of the phantom lump in my throat. Pride won't feed my stomach or pay the monthly bills for me, and right now I'd rather take the money over the small victory of telling him off.

I boldly continue to stare at Noah with a slight scowl on my lips while he maintains the same pompous look on his face. The hostile exchange of glances between us eventually breaks when the screen on his cell phone lights up, the notification on the screen grabbing his attention away from me. He takes a brief glimpse at the message and gives me one last look before heading off to the exit without saying another word to me. And not long after his departure does my phone begin to ring from a number that I don't recognize, a number which I assume to be his secretary's.

I pick up the phone call and answer it. "Hello?"

The same peppy voice from this morning greets me without delay: "Hello, Miss Hart! It's good to be able to speak to you again."

***

I lift my hand to wipe the sweat off my brow as I weakly collapse onto the sofa. "Okay, let's take a break for now. You're way too good at this game, Taylor," I heavily pant with an exhausted smile.

The fatigue from constantly running around and walking up the stairs is rapidly settling into my legs. I don't remember the last time I sweat this much or felt this tired from a simple round of hide and seek. But I guess the only fool here to blame is me for agreeing to play the game with Taylor, especially since I was the one who underestimated the sheer size of the rooms in the home. After all, who would have thought that two people could live in a house this big when one of them is barely even home? It just doesn't make any sense.

However, my mind feels way too worn out to bother contemplating or criticizing Noah's life choices and decisions. His extravagant way of living and spending shouldn't even be a shock to me at this point after everything I've seen from him so far. This is the same man who didn't hesitate to offer me a six-figure salary as a nanny even though we both know I'm not qualified for the job. Though I can't really say that I have any complaints. Not when this amazing opportunity was basically handed to me by chance and luck.

I stretch my legs out and slowly start to catch my breath while the cold sweat continues to cling onto my warm back. After chasing Taylor around all day, I can somewhat understand what Noah meant when he said that the other nannies couldn't last a month before quitting. It's not even dinnertime yet and I'm already drained of most of my energy. I weakly shift my gaze over to the little girl who's still energetically hopping up and down around the entire room. The lively scene of her jumping makes me laugh.

At least someone looks like they're enjoying themselves.

I stand up from my seat and prepare myself for some resistance on Taylor's end as I decide that it's about time for her to start working on some of her schoolwork. My hand reaches for the workbooks sitting on top of the counter by the grand piano when a lone picture frame placed on the lid of the piano catches my eye. It's a picture of a smiling young woman who seems to have been caught off guard by the camera, her head in the middle of turning around to face the sneaky photographer who's laying in wait to take her photo. I curiously pick the photo frame up with my hand and examine it.

She has the same honey-brown eyes and sweet and gentle smile as Taylor.

"That's my mommy," Taylor proudly exclaims as she rushes over and sets her arms on the piano bench. "This is her piano. She always played songs on it for me," she shares with a smile. Her brown stare brims with an utmost pride and joy in her eyes while she looks up at me.

"She's beautiful. You look a lot like her," I beam.

"That's what everyone tells me. They say that I'm going to look like her when I grow up," the child grins. But the happiness and excitement that was once on her face gradually vanishes as a thought suddenly hits her. Her eyes naturally drop down toward the floor, her lips making a slight frown in response to her realization. She says absolutely nothing for a while until she ends up quietly muttering, "I miss her."

The pained and lonely expression on the young girl's face confirms my worst suspicions about her family situation. Her mother must not be alive anymore which is terribly tragic considering how young the woman looks to be in the modern photo. The circumstances appear to be even more heartbreaking when I think about how young Taylor must have been when her mother passed away. Death is never an easy topic to explain or discuss with a child, especially when the time that the mother and daughter spent together was so brief and short.

I can't even begin to imagine how lost and confused Taylor must have been when her mother was there standing by her side one day and then gone the next. And judging by the hurt look on her face, she still isn't completely over her mother's early departure from the world. But the subject seems way too personal for me to approach without getting too involved. Especially when Noah's warning about overstepping boundaries still rings loudly in my head.

My hand reaches over to the saddened little girl where I gently start to caress her head. This is the only way I can offer any sense of comfort to Taylor without using any words. However, the tender moment only lasts until I hear the front door suddenly burst open and a familiar voice break out: "Taylor! Sweetie! Where are you? I brought you something. Oh my god, I know that you're going to love it-"

Yet the enthusiastic female voice instantly pauses when she steps into the piano room and notices me. I instinctively gag a bit as the nauseatingly sweet stench of her perfume floods and permeates the room. Even if I didn't recognize the woman by her iconic scent, her frigid and bright blue eyes and her bold fashion choices leave me with no room for doubt about her identity. It's the blonde beauty from that day who's also Noah's girlfriend. The woman who made me lose my job simply because she didn't like me.

Great. Another problem to deal with.

I remind myself to play nice in spite of the woman's atrocious personality, but before I can even get the chance to greet her, the blonde storms toward me and forcibly pulls me away from the room. My eyes helplessly watch the moment unfold in pure shock as she yanks me out of the doorway without explaining herself. I'm so thrown off by her abrupt and aggressive actions that my legs have no choice but to follow her until she's done guiding me to wherever it is that she has in mind.

The blonde eventually stops dragging me down the hallway and corridors when we step into one of the empty dens. She slams the door behind us and shouts, "What the hell are you doing here? Are you insane? You have no business being in this house." An angry furrow spreads across her brow as she shakes her head and continues her outburst, "I'm calling the cops on you. I can't believe you're actually stalking Noah and his daughter."

My jaw drops from her bizarre and false accusation. "Whoa, lady! I'm not stalking anyone. You have the wrong idea," I answer with a baffled look.

"Yeah?" She crosses her arms and raises her brow. "Then how did you get inside the house?"

A heavy exhale parts from my mouth as I bite my tongue. I resist the overwhelming urge to spit back a witty retort to her, but I know better than to make the woman even more upset than she already looks. Her piercing blue eyes are shooting straight daggers at me, and the spite in her voice tells me that she's hell bent on calling the cops on me so that they can arrest me even if I'm not doing anything wrong. One wrong move or word from me and this could all blow up in my face.

However, I can't seem to fully convince myself to not antagonize her even a little.

"Well, funny story," I smirk. "I recently got fired from my previous job, and Mr. Bishop happened to need a nanny for his daughter. So here I am. First day on the job."

The woman scoffs and shakes her head at me when she hears my response. "You? A nanny? Do I look like an idiot to you?" she fumes as she pulls out her cell phone.

I close my eyes and grit my teeth. As much as I want to tell her that she does look like an idiot for overreacting, I take the more logical approach instead: "Then why don't you just ask him yourself?"

My suggestion brings an immediate pause to her actions. "What?" she asks.

"Mr. Bishop. You can ask him yourself since you don't believe me. Call him first before you call the cops. I'll stay right here while you talk it over with him."

Despite my recommendation being a pretty reasonable one, Noah's girlfriend looks put off and irritated by the confidence in my tone of voice. She firmly clutches the phone in her hand while a bitter scowl remains on her lips. After staring me down for what feels like a long and hard minute, she reluctantly gives in and makes the phone call to him. Her cold stare continues to carefully observe my every move until Noah finally picks up the call.

"Hey, handsome! Sorry to bother you…"

I watch in sheer awe as the blonde's entire demeanor changes from aggressive and hateful to soft-spoken and sweet. It's almost like she's an entirely different person when she's speaking to Noah, especially when she uses her innocent yet flirty tone of voice to address the problematic nature of my employment to him. Seeing her flawless acting in motion helps me understand how a man could ever fall for her. There's a good reason why she doesn't let anyone see her nasty side unless she intends for them to see it.

But the polished façade that she's maintaining while she's on the phone with Noah quickly crumbles as she looks over at me. Disbelief and denial pour from her gaze, the dark expression on her face filled with frustration. I turn my head to the side and try to hide my amusement from her. It looks like she just heard the bad news from him, and there's nothing she can do about it except shoot dirty looks at me from afar.

I secretly indulge in the blonde's miserable expression when she abruptly swings open the door and takes her leave from the room without speaking nor apologizing to me. There's no doubt in my mind that she's seriously pissed off due to my presence in Noah's private home. But her heated reaction only makes the situation more pleasant for me. It serves her right for getting me fired over a petty reason like defying her.

A huge smile forms across my lips as I head out of the door and go back to the piano room.

Maybe this job won't be so bad after all.