Page 4 of Monster Among the Roses (Fairy Tale Quartet 1)

“You have other siblings, though, isn’t that correct? Five if I remember. Could they not—”

“No,” I damn-near snapped before flushing hard from embarrassment. But mentioning my older brothers and sisters lately was a prickly point for me. None of them were willing to help. Justin had flat-out refused, coolly stating Mom shouldn’t have gotten herself into such a mess in the first place. Alice never answered her phone, avoiding us at all costs. Mom and I had both lost contact with Bryce and Becky. No idea where they even were. And Victoria was a big reason why we were in this mess in the first place. She’d actually helped Mom start her shop, only to turn around and empty the bakery’s bank account before taking off to parts unknown.

Clearing my throat, I glanced away before more quietly admitting, “They’re not…available to help.”

“I see,” Mr. Nash murmured. I was beginning to hate it when he said that. Just what the hell did he really see?

Certain that whatever he saw in me couldn’t be good, I blew out a silent breath of defeat. Coming here had been a fool’s mission. No way would he help me. If I were him, I wouldn’t help me.

Mr. Nash lowered his hands to the arm of the chair. “Well, I think we can work out a deal,” he announced, sounding way too jovial. “How soon can you start?”

My mouth fell open, unable to quite believe what I’d just heard.

I wanted to ask, start what? What exactly did he have in mind for me? But I was afraid to hear the answer. So I said, “Anytime. Now. Whenever you want.”

He chuckled and rose to his feet. “I like the enthusiasm, but I think tomorrow will be soon enough.” Snagging a pen and notepad from his desk, he jotted something down. “Can you make it to this address in the morning by nine?”

A disorienting sense of surreal doom struck me. Was this really happening? Fortunate things never happened to me. There had to be a catch.

“I… Yeah, sure.” To save my mother, I’d be wherever he needed me to be, whenever he asked.

He nodded in satisfaction. “Good. I’ll draw up a contract tonight, agreeing that I?

??ll help your mother through her financial situation in exchange for your services, and we can go over it when you arrive. Then you can get started.”

He tore the top piece of paper from the pad and handed it to me to reveal he’d only listed a street address. A bead of sweat coursed down the center of my back. It was cold and made me shiver.

With no doubt in my mind I’d just sold my soul to the devil, I said, “Okay. I’ll be there.” And then I thanked him from the bottom of my ill-fated heart.

chapter

TWO

What the…?

I stood at the end of the drive that led up to 24 Porterfield Lane and gaped. With another glance at the Post-it note in my sweaty hand containing Mr. Nash’s heavy scrawl, I took in the numbers and letters before turning my attention back to the brick-covered mailbox that said 24 Porterfield Lane.

Right address.

Shaking my head, I faced the gate. A metal sign hung from it, telling me I’d arrived at Porter Hall Estate, Residence of Entrepreneur Henry Nash.

Holy shit, this was his home. He’d brought me to his house. The place had to span at least fifteen acres just to make up the manicured front lawn. A row of evergreens concealed most of the building from the road, but a couple stories still peeked up above them. And from what I could see, the mansion was huge. I’m talking over ten-thousand-square-feet huge.

I shook my head and pressed the intercom button located on the brick pillar part of the closed gate.

When a female voice flickered through the speaker, asking, “Can I help you?” I cleared my dry throat, growing more nervous by the second.

“I, uh…yeah. Shaw Hollander here to see Mr. Nash.”

“Of course. Come on up.”

Come on up? Were they sure? It didn’t feel as if I should. This kind of place was so far above me, even standing this close to the property felt as if I was doing something wrong.

But one half of the wrought iron steel bars began to peel away from the other half, inviting me inside. My heart gave a wild jolt. What the hell was I doing? Why had I agreed to anything? How was I going to live with myself afterward if he…if he…?

God, I thought I might be sick to my stomach.

Ornamental pear trees lined the driveway and provided a nice shade for me to walk under, but my stomach continued to roll. A clammy sweat stuck to my brow and gathered under my pits. I hadn’t realized 24 Porterfield Lane would be so far out of town and away from my run-down neighborhood. It had taken me an hour and a half to get here on foot, and now I probably stunk to high heaven.

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