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“Off we go then,” Florence said, briskly. “What are we waiting for?”

And again, everybody did as they were told. Maybe it was shock, Hadley thought. If her suitcases had still been downstairs she'd probably have taken them up too. Florence was... quite something. Terrifying for sure, but definitely efficient.

In moments the chaos was gone. Henry was holding both his cases, Charlie had one of his, and even little Emily with her red curls was carrying a backpack.

Florence turned around and Hadley raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“This is no more than a simple misunderstanding,” said Florence. “Obviously, I'm the children's nanny. And I'm sure we can get this all sorted out with a few phone calls. However, for the moment, my attention needs to remain with the children, for obvious reasons. I suggest you and I discuss what your options are after lights out.”

“Hold on a second, why don't we discuss what your options are,” Hadley said, bristling. “I was hired here.”

“As was I,” Florence said. “And it's already extremely clear that you don't have what it takes to deal with these charges. You were lost as soon as they came in, overwhelmed.”

“I was not,” Hadley said. Except she had been. Which was fine, it was beginner's nerves, that's all, and she'd settle into things soon enough.

Florence cleared her throat and stared up at her and Hadley felt herself crumbling.

Jesus Christ. This woman was some kind of witch. She could control children with the tone of her voice. She could make grown women turn to jelly.

“We will discuss this later,” Florence said, raising her chin slightly.

For the briefest of seconds Hadley had a flash of an image. Florence, hair messed up, glasses askew, being pushed hard against a wall, breath coming fast, groaning with need, eyes clouded with lust.

“Later!” Florence growled.

Before Hadley had a chance to say anything more, Florence was following the children up to their rooms and she was left with nothing more than an aching dampness between her legs.

“Well, that was unexpected,” she murmured to herself, not sure whether she was referring to the x-rated fantasy or the fact that rather obviously both she and Florence had been hired to do the same job.

Standing in the entrance hall she couldn't quite decide what to do.

She wasn't a pushover. On the other hand, she wasn't one to fight either. Probably because she'd never really had to. Under other circumstances she'd definitely chalk this up to experience and let Florence take the job, there'd always be something else to do.

But she'd already told her father about this job. She'd already told him that she was committed to something.

Slowly, she wandered around the ground floor of the house, taking in the furnishings, orienting herself, calming herself, and trying to decide what she needed to do about this. She wanted this job, she needed it. And it might not be her decision anyway.

She wasn't the only person involved in this.

With a sigh, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and slid her fingerprint across the sensor. She knew that Maeve wasn't leaving the country until the next day. She also knew that going to her boss on the first day of the job with a problem and no solution probably wasn't the greatest idea. But she didn't see what choice she had.

“Darling, darling,” Maeve said when she picked up the phone. “Are my angels there already?”

Even in the short minute she'd spent with the kids, Hadley was fairly sure that 'angels' was not an appropriate word for them. “They're here,” she said, trying to sound upbeat. “But there's a bit of a problem.”

“Is everyone alright?”

“Oh, gosh, yes, all three are fine. It's something else.” As quickly as she could, Hadley explained the situation and for a long moment afterward there was only the crackling of the phone line.

“The bastard,” Maeve finally said.

“I'm sorry?” asked Hadley, confused.

“Colby,” hissed Maeve. “The children's father. He must have done this. Hired some other nanny.”

“I see,” Hadley said. “Um, so what exactly would you like me to do. I could... I could leave.” She didn't want to, but it seemed polite to offer.

“No! Absolutely not!” Maeve said, sounding extremely certain. “What's she like? Tell me. I'm sure she's cold and correct and obsessed with table manners.”