Page 14 of One Sweet Lie

Surrendering to the situation, I returned to the front entrance.

“Good afternoon, Miss!” The bellman smiled as if this was our first encounter. “What brings you here today?”

“I have a three thirty interview with the resident in the penthouse suite.”

“Wow, how fascinating. I wish you the best of luck.” He opened the door. “The elevator is inside and to your right. Please take the same route down when you’re finished.”

“Thank you.” I stepped inside and inhaled a sharp breath.

The white marble floors sparkled like diamonds, so much so that I was scared to scratch them with my heels. A stone fountain shaped like the Triborough Bridge spouted water along its “road,” and into a wishing base.

There wasn’t a single penny sitting at its bottom.

Of course.I stepped onto the elevator and hit the button for the top floor.

As the doors glided shut and revealed my reflection, I regretted not rushing home to change out of this dress.

Ping!

The doors opened, revealing more marble floors that led to two red French doors.

It’s just an interview, Harlow. Just an interview.

I knocked three times.

No answer.

I knocked again, a lot harder.

Nothing.

Before I could put all my muscle into it, the door swung open, revealing the beautiful, unhelpful bastard from the library. Somehow, in the minutes since I’d last seen him, he’d gotten even sexier.

“Um, hello,” I said.

“Hello.”

“I’m here to try a new position on you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean…” I could stare into this man’s blue eyes for days. “I mean, I’m here about the new nanny position.”

“Hmmm.” He was staring into my eyes, too. “There’s a doorbell you could’ve used to get my attention.”

Where?“It wasn’t working, so I figured I’d knock instead.”

“I think it works just fine.” He pressed the button I’d somehow missed, and the soft sound of chimes echoed through the hall.

My cheeks flushed red, and I didn’t bother trying to save myself from that blatant lie.

“Good to see we both know who lives on the top floor now,” he said.

“Well, I will if you finally give me your name.”

“Good point.” A smirk crossed his lips, but no name fell from them. “What’s yours?”

“Harlow Hawthorne.”

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