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FIVE

NATALIE

The Splendors Mansion , says an elegant sign on the giant gate that disguises Geoffrey Rosenberg’s house.

I stop my car in front of it. I didn’t get a code to get in, so I pick up the phone, intending to text Nick, when the door of the security booth on the side of the gate opens and a large guard steps out.

I roll down the window. “I’m here for the job interview.”

Close-shaven beard, square jaw that could crack walnuts, thick eyebrows just below a baseball hat—the security guy looks like a bulldog.

He stares at me with unmistakable disapproval, like I’m here to replace him.

“I don’t think so,” he says slowly. “Wait here.”

He squeezes his six-foot bulky frame back into the security booth, checks something in a notepad, then steps out and shakes his head. “There’s nothing about you or any interview in my memo.” He swings his forefinger in the air. “Turn around.”

“This is a misunderstanding,” I say, then dial Nick.

He picks up right away. “Hey, doll.”

“Nick, I’m here, at the mansion, but the security guy says he doesn’t know anything about the interview.”

“Ugh, give me a sec. Stay there.”

He hangs up, and I apologize to the hostile security guy. “Give me a moment, please. I’m Natalie, by the way. What’s your name?”

He stalls, his iguana gaze on me like I just personally insulted him. “Dave.”

I tense and stare at my hands on the steering wheel, waiting.

His phone rings. “Understood,” he answers curtly. “Yes. Yes. No problem, sir.” He hangs up and shifts his glare to me. “Park on the west side of the building. Use the staff entrance. You are going to talk to Julien,” he says with reluctance as if I’m in the wrong here. He squeezes himself back into the booth and opens the gate.

“Thank you, Dave!” I call, hoping that this is the only hiccup at the job that hasn’t even started yet.

I drive in slowly through the opening gate, checking the rearview mirror, and see Dave on the phone again, his head turned toward me as he watches me drive.

“Whatever, man,” I murmur. “I’m here for a job, just like you.”

But my mood lightens when I drive up to the mansion.

Well, well.

The Splendors is a two-story modern mansion with a fountain at the front and a vast lawn manicured to a perfection I’ve only seen in lifestyle magazines. A black Maybach with tinted windows is parked out front—this must be Rosenberg’s car that Nick drives.

I’m looking forward to seeing Nick again, the memory of his handsome smile spiking my heartbeat with excitement.

More importantly, Rosenberg is on my mind right now. This is his domain. And I’m here, by some lucky circumstance, so close to meeting the man who… right, he could potentially be dangerous, so I should probably tone down my excitement.

I park just like I was told, next to several other cars on the side of the mansion, obscured from the front by arborvitae trees. A tall man stands by the side entrance, watching me. He’s dressed in a sleek dark-blue suit and crisp white shirt, despite the heat outside.

Getting out of the car, I put on a well-practiced friendly smile and walk toward him.

“Julien, is it?” I offer my hand for a shake.

He could be handsome if his expression weren’t so stone-like. His hands are cupped in front of him in a bodyguard-like stance. Granted, he’s built like one, broad-shouldered and intimidating. He’s probably in his early thirties, a head taller than me. Close-cropped black hair and intense hazel eyes that bore into me unblinkingly.

“Julien, the house manager,” he replies curtly, disregarding my outstretched hand.

Oh-kay. “I’m Natalie,” I say, mirroring his stance—feet slightly apart, hands cupped in front of me. “I’m here for a job.”

He doesn’t move, guarding the side entrance to the house. “I need your driver’s license, address, car registration, and references.”

Wait, what? “Nick didn’t say anything about that.”

“Nick might’ve offered you special treatment, but I need this info for safety reasons.”

Jesus, is everyone in this house so intense? And I haven’t even met the boss yet.

“This job is temporary, as far as I understand,” I say with a straight face. “You needed someone reliable and fast, at short notice. No paperwork was mentioned.”

I give him the same cold treatment in return, silence burning between us. I don’t mean to argue, but I’ve learned to negotiate the terms with the many employers I’ve had in the past. It’s Thursday, and if I’m supposed to work here for only three days, skipping paperwork shouldn’t be a big deal.

“When do I meet the boss?” I ask with confidence.

Not a single muscle on his face moves. “You don’t. You are here to help with the party. As far as I understand,” he adds, mimicking me.

His eyes still bore into me. I didn’t even discuss with Nick how much I’ll get paid. He said the house manager would go over it. Since this guy doesn’t argue back, I think I passed the first test. I’m sure he got the instructions about my arrival, but he’s trying to be difficult.

“I can start anytime,” I say. Preferably, right now.

“Three days, then I’m pretty sure we won’t need your services,” he says, giving in, though I don’t think it’s up to him.

“I’ll talk to Nick about that.” I cock my brow at him, and his lips tighten.

It seems like Nick is the boss’s favorite. If I butter him up, I might have this job for longer. I don’t mind, especially if it pays under the table.

And I’m definitely meeting the boss. This guy here just doesn’t know it yet. He doesn’t know I couldn’t care less about the party. My main agenda is the Man of the Year.