Page 3 of Nanny for the Bossy Billionaire

“Then why did you ask me to repeat myself?” he asks with an air of exasperation.

“I didn’t ask you to repeat yourself. I was just taken aback by the question.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it illegal for you to ask me about my personal life?”

He shrugs. “Yes.”

He doesn’t elaborate, but I guess he doesn’t need to because I understand exactly what he means. This is a man who founded and runs a multi-billion dollar tech company. I’m sure he has an army of lawyers ready to slap down whatever lawsuit I might file against him.

“Well, I’m not sure I’m comfortable answering that question.”

He rolls his eyes. “I really couldn’t care less about your personal life. I just would like to know whether your attention would be divided between your work and your personal life, and to what extent.”

I really want to tell him to shove this job up his ass, but I am in no position to do that. So I ball my fists in my lap. Through clenched teeth I say, “No, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Good…and what religion are you?”

I scoff. “Again, that is an inappropriate question to ask. My spiritual beliefs are none of your business.”

“Yes they are. Ethan is only three-years-old. If you get this job you would be spending the hours of nine in the morning till four in the afternoon with him. He is very impressionable, and I would rather he not be indoctrinated by his nanny. Although you’re not responsible for his education; that has been taken care of, you will be spending a lot of time with him. He will pick things up from you. I just want to make sure that he won’t pick up any unsavory practices or opinions.”

I sigh. “I was raised Catholic, but I am barely religious these days.”

“And do you smoke?”

“No.”

“Do you drink?”

“Barely.”

“And how often would you say you get drunk?”

Oh my God…

“Never.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re a 22-year-old young woman and you never get drunk?”

“No, I don’t.”

“And why do I have a hard time believing that?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Maybe because you’re an untrusting person who is trying to fit me into a stereotype?” I say, my voice a little acidic.

His eyes cut up to me from the clipboard and I know I have crossed a line. A second later he looks back down. I’m not sure, but I could swear for a millisecond I saw the corner of his mouth lift.

I sit up straighter in my chair and say, “I’m a bartender, part-time in the evenings. Let’s just say I’ve seen what kind of trouble people get into when they’ve overindulged. I don’t need that chaos in my life. That’s why I don’t get drunk.”

“If you were to get this job, would you be able to balance it with your bartending?”

“Well, yes, but if it all becomes too much, I’ll be willing to let go of that job in favor of this one.”

“One last thing…” He leans forward and now that he’s closer I can see some strands of gray mixed in with his brown hair. “What is your discipline style?”

I have prepared for this. “I believe gentle discipline is the best.”

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