Amber
“Amber! Look at my dollies!”
I glanced over at Lilah, playing in the corner of the living room. She had set up a whole doll’s tea party, complete with tea cups, chairs and pretend cakes. She had done a great job. Every one of her dolls had a chair.
“Well done, Lilah bear,” I said, ruffling her little blonde head. She looked up at me, smiling, then became absorbed in her play.
I walked around the living room, tidying up as I went. It wasn’t really part of my job description as nanny to clean, but I found it made things easier all round if I did some basic chores. Jean, the maid, was at hand to do the back-breaking jobs.
I stared out the living room window, at the grounds. I could see the swimming pool in the distance, cover on in winter. The tennis courts looked a bit forlorn, too. I hadn’t seen anyone play in a long, long time. Since before Erin had died, that was for sure.
I thought of Erin, Mrs Ormond. She had been a warm and caring person, and she had made me very welcome when I had first come to Australia to nanny. I had been so relieved. I was a bit out of my depth, travelling to the other side of the world for work. I had been scared that the people I was going to be working for would be horrible. I had heard all the nanny horror stories going around.
But Erin had set my mind at ease, picking me up from Melbourne airport herself, and letting me rest for a couple of days while I worked through my jet lag. I felt a lump form in my throat, thinking of her.
She had been American, just like me. She understood how hard it was living in another country. Even though Australia was similar in lots of ways, and spoke English, it still took a lot of adjustment. And it wasn’t as if I could travel home for lunch every now and again.
I picked up a framed photograph on a table. It was of the three of them – Erin, Lilah and Finn. Mr Ormond. It had been taken two years ago, when Lilah was only two. They looked so happy, laughing for the camera, both Erin and Finn’s eyes on their darling baby girl.
But life hadn’t been kind to this family. I still remembered the day that it happened.
It had been a normal Wednesday. I had picked up Lilah from ballet lessons, as usual, battling through the Melbourne traffic to get her home before dark. Driving was hard for me, Australians drove on the right-hand side of the road, which took some adjustment. So I was a bit stressed when I came through the door that day.
I hadn’t checked my phone in a while, and was a bit dismayed when I saw five missed calls. But the voice mail message made my blood turn cold. It was from the Alfred Hospital. Erin had been involved in a head-on collision on her way home from work at her trendy little boutique on Chapel Street. She was dead on arrival.
They hadn’t been able to get onto Finn. It had been my awful job to tell him that his wife had been killed in a car crash. The next months were a blur of sadness. Finn had been so angry in his grief, using work as an antidote. We rarely saw him. He had always been a workaholic, but he took it to another level.
Then there were Erin’s parents, who stayed on after the funeral. I could see they were upset at how Finn was reacting. They wanted him to spend time with his little girl, she had just lost her mother, after all. I glanced back at Lilah, playing happily with her dolls. It had taken her awhile to get to this. At the start, she had been confused, and kept asking when her mother was coming home.
And then she had withdrawn, getting angry at me, refusing to let me hug her or kiss her. As if scared that I was going to be snatched away from her, just like her mother had been.
I was startled out of my reverie by the sound of a Lamborghini tearing up the circular driveway. What on earth? I strained my neck to get a better view. It couldn’t be, could it? Finn home from work in the middle of the day? It was unheard of.
Yet, there he was, climbing out of the designer car and racing into the house. He did everything quickly, that man. He had so much energy it almost made my head spin. I glanced around. All good. Tidying up as you went came in handy, sometimes – like when the boss unexpectedly came home in the middle of the day.
“Daddy!” Lilah abandoned her dolls to their tea party, leaping to her feet to run into her father’s arms. Finn caught her, tossing her into the air. The little girl chuckled.
“Have you been a good girl for Amber?” He asked her as he lowered her to the floor, tousling her hair as he did so.
“Yes.” She looked at him adoringly. “She helped me with my tea party.” She looked around at me, seeking my approval.
“She’s been very good,” I said now. “We were just about to pack up and have some lunch.” I looked at him, waiting. What was he doing here?
“Amber, I need to speak to you,” he said. “Could you get Lilah some lunch quickly, then we can sit down for a few minutes.” I nodded, a bit fearfully. What was this about? Was he about to fire me?
I started making peanut butter sandwiches, thinking over the last few days. I hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary – not that I could recall, at any rate. No, I was at a complete loss.
Lunch over, I settled Lilah down for her afternoon nap, and returned to the living room. He was standing against the fireplace, frowning.
“You wanted to speak to me?” My heart was in my mouth. Best to get it over with, if it was bad news.
“Yes.” He raked his hands through his dark hair, absently. I looked at him. I was struck anew by what an attractive man he was.
Finn Ormond was a billionaire, and dressed in the best clothes from Melbourne’s finest men’s boutiques. But it wasn’t just his clothes. He had the physique of a panther, long and lean and hard. Brown eyes in a chiselled face. Tall. He had a presence, you could say.
I had never been immune to that attractiveness, but I had kept it in check. He was my boss, after all, and for the first six months of my work, a happily married man. I would never have done anything to jeopardise my position or to betray Erin.
But looking at him now, my heart skipped a couple of beats, and I could feel my face flush slightly. Best to be business like, I thought.
“Amber, I’m just going to cut straight to the chase,” he said. He turned to me, his dark eyes quietly assessing.
“I have a business proposal. One I think might be beneficial for both of us.”
I looked at him, expectantly.
But what he said next made my mind spin.