Page 4 of Meeting the Billionaire Boss

And so, instead of going outside, I pad down the stairs to my study and close the heavy door behind me. There will soon be a new nanny here to learn the ropes from Cynthia and to care for Joe. It’s time for me to go back to the city, to mingle with my peers and employees in person again, to secure my role as CEO before someone else swoops in and steals it from under me. I have been working from home but I’ve physically buried myself in the countryside for two years and I need to return to civilisation and make my presence felt. While Grandpa was alive I could get away with hiding but now, if I want to prove to the board that I can be permanent CEO, I need to return.

I also, rather annoyingly, need to find myself a new bride fairly soon because the clock on that issue is ticking faster every day. Dear old Grandpa and his bloody Bridgerton style marriage clause that states I must be married by thirty-five in order to inherit his shares in Cavendish Construction and to become permanent CEO. I swear that when he had the clause written into his will in the weeks before his death, he wasn’t of sound mind. I know that I could question the clause but it won’t make a shred of difference because the Board of Directors is made up mainly of his old chums, and even if legally the will could be overturned, his chums will ensure that his final wishes are carried out. Why the hell didn’t he tell me before he died to give me the chance to change his mind? When I heard the clause at the reading of the will, I almost keeled over myself. Grandpa was a majority shareholder so if I don’t inherit his shares, the company will become a completely different beast. His shares could be divided and sold to different people or bought by one person who’ll change Cavendish Construction forever. I can’t let that happen.

Thanks, Grandpa, for making my life even more difficult. And thanks for putting me in a position where I could lose the one thing that has been constant in my life: the family business.

Chapter6

Ava

The car that’s been sent for me is a black Mercedes Hybrid which is so shiny I can see my reflection in its exterior. I fight the urge to get my brush out of my bag to try to tidy up my hair which I curled this morning and which already looks like an unruly mess.

The driver is an older man, probably in his late fifties, wearing a smart black suit with a matching tie. He introduces himself as Jeff Turnbull while my mum and brother look on, then he takes my luggage and puts it into the boot. I stand there awkwardly, not sure what to do because I rarely ever take a taxi anywhere, using the bus or train instead. Deciding to appear helpful, I follow him around to the back of the car but he’s already turning back so I run straight into him and bounce off then stagger backwards, arms flailing. I manage to regain my balance and look at him but his face is a serene mask of professionalism. I guess he deals with clumsy young women like me all the time.

When he opens the back door to the car then stands back, I realise that I’m meant to get in, so I do. He closes it gently then goes around to the driver’s side door. He starts the engine and my stomach somersaults. This is really happening.

‘May I open the window?’ I ask. ‘So I can wave goodbye.’

As if by magic, the window goes down without me doing anything, and I wave at my mum and brother, my heart aching as I gaze at their faces for the last time in weeks or even months. We can videocall, of course, but I know it won’t be the same as seeing them every day.

You’re doing this for them, I remind myself sternly,so pull yourself together.

‘On the seat is a box for you from your new employer,’ Jeff says.

‘Oh…’ I glance at the box. ‘Thanks.’

The car pulls away from the kerb and I wave at my family until we reach the end of the road and they disappear from view.

To distract myself, I return my attention to the box. There is a card taped to the top, so I reach for it and slide my thumb under the flap. I pull it out and read.

Dear Ava,

Your agency provided all the necessary details we needed but we are very much looking forward to meeting you in person.

Inside the box are some essentials for you to use during your employment. You’ll find all the numbers you need already in the phone and the iPad is connected to the cloud so you can access documentation regarding your employment. As you know from the contract you signed, you are not to access social media accounts from either device — or any other device — during the period of your employment. Should you do so, your employment will be immediately terminated, and any outstanding monies will not be paid.

Enjoy the journey and relax.

Kind regards,

Cynthia Beaumont

I put the card back in the envelope and place it to one side then open the box. Inside I find the equipment the letter referred to and I look at it for a moment. Don’t get me wrong, I knew what I was letting myself in for in terms of social media blackout, but see, that didn’t matter to me at all. I only have one Facebook account and I haven’t accessed it in years and as for the other socials, well, I’ve avoided them like the plague. I know that’s unusual and what some people see as weird, but for me, I had good reason not to want to see what was going on in the world in that way. I watch the news when I have time and sometimes read the headlines, but all the rest of it, well, there’s always a chance it will bring up some information abouthim,and I simply don’t want to know. You can’t cause that much hurt and devastation and expect people to carry on as if they haven’t had their hearts broken and their world turned upside down. While my friends at school were creating profiles all over the place, I was avoiding being seen, hiding away from visibility and it seems that it has paid off.

‘Everything all right back there?’ Jeff asks. ‘Would you like me to close the window for you and put the aircon on?’

‘That would be great, thanks.’ I smile at him in the rear-view mirror and he nods.

‘Anything you need or want to know, just ask. Apart from that, try to relax and enjoy the ride.’

‘Thanks.’ I smile again even though his eyes are now on the road ahead.

My mind wanders back to reading the contract in Nala’s office. It was all very official sounding and Nala talked me through the details she’d received. The employer wanted to find a nanny for his young son to cover a period of time while the long-term nanny is away. I have no idea where she’s going but the contract is for four months. During this time, I’m to be available throughout the week and over weekends, but breaks and days off can be negotiated depending on the employer’s schedule. Seeing as how I’m going to be away from home, this all sounds fine to me. I’ve received more information since then and it turns out that the employer is named Edward Cavendish and he’s an interim CEO of a big English construction company. He lost his wife two years ago and there was a lot of social media coverage because they were one of those ‘it’ couples, always splashed over the tabloids and Instagram, according to Nala. The wife was a successful French lingerie model and had a body, Nala said, that she could only ever dream of having. Anyway, they had a baby, and he was only two when he lost his mum and it all sounded very tragic and I felt my heart filling with sympathy for the man and his son. How awful to lose the woman he’d thought he’d spend his life with and who was also the mother of his child. Nala said the trauma of it all is why Mr Cavendish is so against social media. He doesn’t want his son having his privacy invaded and so the contract stipulates this and the terms must be adhered to at all times. Not only that, but the nanny must aim to avoid any situations where the child could be captured on camera. As someone who hates being photographed, I have no problem with this.

And now, as I sit on the seat made of soft, buttery leather and gaze at the iPad and iPhone in the box, I know that I will never do anything to jeopardise the boy’s privacy. I pick up the phone and swipe the screen and it invites me to add facial recognition, which I do, then I flick through it, checking the numbers inContacts.I see Mr Cavendish’s number there.

Edward, I touch a finger to his name then jump as it dials him and so I end the call quickly. Edward Cavendish.Nala said he reminds her of the actor Chris Pine and so this is who I imagine as I put the phone back in the box along with the card then put the lid back on it.

The journey takes just over an hour and a half but it feels like minutes because I’m so comfortable in the car. There is even a small fridge in the back that contains water and fruit juice, and Jeff tells me to help myself to a drink. I take a bottle of water but I only sip it because I don’t want to need the loo before we get there.

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