Chapter 4

Mercedes POV

Nicole and I had cried ourselves drunk last night, over three bottles of cheap wine.

We made a drinking game out of every time one of us said ‘unfair’, ‘prison’, or ‘screw the system’.

And the consequences of that was rearing its ugly head this morning, as I woke up feeling like a thousand elephants were stomping on my head at once.

But I never knew hungover fever made someone hallucinate. Because there was no way. Absolutely no freaking way, was I staring at a mail from the family I interviewed with yesterday.

Dear Ms. Mercedes,

You have been shortlisted for the next stage of the interview process.

Kindly report to the Ford residence by 10:30am tomorrow, for a final interview with Mr. Ford.

I rubbed my eyes as I sat upright on the bed, and then stared back at my fine.

Yep, still there.

“Nic,”I tapped Nicole who was snoring soundly beside me.

No response.

“Nicole!” I tapped her arm harder.

“Mhmm what?” she mumbled, burying her face in the pillow.

I pulled the pillow from under her, forcing her to face me.

“Look,” I shoved the phone in her face.

She squinted her eyes over the brightness.

“Holy. Shit.” She whispered, her voice going from groggy to scream mode in half a second. “You got shortlisted!”

Nicole screamed.

I screamed.

Then we both screamed.

“Wait, wait, wait!” I panicked, as my eyes landed on the time. “It's already 10:05 AM. I have just twenty-five minutes to get there!”

“What?!” Nicole screamed, and we both shot out of bed. “Get in the shower now! I'll handle the rest!” Nicole barked.

I took the fastest shower of my entire life, even the showers back in prison didn't happen this fast.

Nicole already had an outfit laid out for me–a black slacks, a clean blouse, and a blazer.

I parked my hair in a ponytail, and dabbed some concealer in my eyes, before heading to the living room.

“Here, drink this,” Nicole shoved a cup of what tasted like feet and raw vegetables into my hand.

I arrived at the Ford's residence at exactly 10.50 Am-twenty minutes late.

I wasn't led to the lounge this time around, as the rest of the shortlisted candidates were waiting at the foyer.

Less than two minutes after I walked in, a man in a well tailored suit walked up to us.

“Good morning, ladies. I'm Benjamin Stone,” he introduced. “Apologizies for the delay, kids, you know? They don't care about timing. But Mr. Ford will be with you guys shortly.”

We all nodded in understanding, while I blessed the kids in my heart.

Because if they had cared about timing, I'd be back on an Uber home right now.

Five of us were shortlisted out of about twenty of us, and just like yesterday, the ladies all looked well put together.

I cursed myself internally for not checking my phone last night. But seriously the woman from yesterday literally told me I wasn't what they were looking for. What kind of a sick twist was this?

I fiddled with the strap of my bag, willing myself to hold it together.

Then the air shifted.

The kind of shift that announced the presence of someone important.

And then I saw him.

 A stupidly handsome man in a well tailored gray suit making his way towards where we stood.

He was at least 6 '3, with broad shoulders, and sharp jawline-a typical prince straight out of a forbidden romance novel.

My lungs straight up forgot how air works as his gaze swept over the room and landed on me.

“Good morning. I'm Bradley Ford…”

That voice.

It sounded awfully familiar.

No. Freaking. Way.

The dragon!

The grown ass man in the dragon costume!

Oh shit.

My stomach flipped, and not in a cute way.

His eyes landed on me again, and I quickly averted my gaze, pretending to be looking for something in my bag.

And because the universe liked screwing me over,y emergency sanitary pad fell out of my bag, along with a half-eaten granola bar.

God. Kill me now.

I dropped to the floor as fast as I could.

“These are my kids,” I heard Mr. Ford saying.

I looked up just in time to hear–

“Dragon Slayer!”

And two bodies collided with me.

“Whoa-” I yelped, toppling back onto my ass as tiny arms wrapped around me.

It was the kids from yesterday-twins actually.

“You came back!” The girl squealed.

“I knew you would!” The boy added with a grin.

I laughed, hugging them back. “Came to make sure the dragon didn't have any smelly cousins,” I whispered.

“Nope!” They said in unison

“Well good,” I said with a mock glare. “Or I’d turn him into dragon soup.”

The kids giggled.

I was about saying something, when someone cleared their throat.

The three of us looked at the same time.

Mr. Ford was looking at us with furrowed brows, and his both hands in his pocket.

The kids quickly went to Mr. Ford's side, and he looked down at them with a faint smile. While I stood up awkwardly, dusting invisible specks off my slacks.

The other women were giving me the stink-eye like I'd just farted in church.

“Well,” he said. “Let's get started. Each of you will introduce yourselves, and after that the kids will decide who they want.”

One by one they began.

“I'm Claire Williams, a licensed early childhood behavioral therapist with Montessori training,” the first lady introduced.

“I'm Chloe Henderson, a bi-lingual Montessori trained educator. I speak French, Mandarin, and German,” the second lady followed suit. “I also know sign language,” she added proudly.

“I'm Catherine Owens, a child development consultant and a former tutor for the Mayor's family.”

When the third person spoke I knew I didn't stand a chance, so I didn't bother paying attention to what the fourth person said, but I know it had something to be with being a developmental psychologist.

But really? Has the world changed that much that ladies with fancy ass certificates were looking for live-in nanny jobs?

When it got to my turn, I have a simple introduction as I didn't have any fancy ass certification.

“I'm Mercedes Con- Alexander,” I quickly corrected myself. “I'm a former kindergarten teacher.”

A snort came from one of the ladies, and I couldn't blame her, given their certifications, I didn't even come close.

Mr. Ford turned to the kids. “Okay guys, this is your decision,” he said. “Who do you want as your nanny?”

The kids exchanged glances, like they were exchanging some secret twin codes or something.

The girl tugged at her dad's hand, and he leaned down just enough for her to whisper something in his ears.

He nodded, and smiled at both of them.

“We want,” the kids drawled, and it felt like the first time I was standing in front of a judge waiting for my sentence.

No. This felt worse.

“Dragon Slayer!” The kids pointed at me and shouted in unison.