Chapter 5

Mercedes’ POV 

My breath caught in my throat. For a split second I thought I must I've misheard– an after effects of the hangover drink Nicole made me. 

But when I looked at the kids, and they were smiling at me like I had just saved the world from an apocalypse, I knew it was true.

They chose me.

Oh my God!

This means I wasn't going back to jail!

I crouched down without even thinking, tears stinging in my eyes, as I opened my arms wide and the kids ran into them.

“Thank you,” I choked out in a whisper. “Thank you so much.”

They giggled and hugged me tighter, not having the slightest idea that they just saved me.

“Thank you all for coming,” Mr. Ford's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “But the kids have made their choice.”

I stood back up, and wiped the tears that streamed down my cheeks with the back of my hands.

The ladies all nodded politely in understanding, as they thanked him also, but I could feel the resentment underneath those politeness.

One of them even snorted, and muttered unqualified mutt as she walked past me. 

But I didn't care. They could call me whatever they wanted, but it didn't change the fact that the kids chose me.

As the ladies all walked out, Mr. Ford turned to me and extended his hand.

“Welcome to the Ford Household, Miss Alexander,” he said, his face unreadable, but polite.

I smiled politely in return, and accepted this handshake. 

“Thank you, Sir.” 

“My assistant will walk you through the next steps,” he informed me, before looking down at the kids who were standing beside me. “Alright you two, let's go.”

“See you later, Dragon Slayer,” they said in unison, waving as they walked away with their Dad.

I couldn't help but laugh as I waved back.

Just as Mr. Ford had said, his assistant Benjamin Stone walked in barely two minutes after they left.

“Congratulations, Ms. Alexander,” he said curtly, before gesturing for me to follow him.

I muttered a thank you, with a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

Benjamin led me towards the kitchen area, and the moment we stepped in, my stomach dropped 

Oh God.

It's the same woman from yesterday who told me VERY CLEARLY that I wasn't what they were looking for.

“Miss Alexander, this is Mrs. Roberts,” he introduced. “The head Omega.”

“I'm sorry… head what?” I blurted out in confusion.

Benjamin coughed lightly. “Apologies. I meant head maid,” he explained. “She oversees staff operations in the house.”

“Oh,” I muttered, brushing it off even though I filed the word Omega away in my mental vault of weird things.

“Thank you, Benjamin. I'll take it from here,” Mrs. Roberts said sharply, her eyes narrowing on me.

“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Benjamin nodded and excused himself, leaving me behind with Mrs. Roberts and a blonde maid who stood beside her.

“I didn't shortlist you,” Mrs. Roberts said coldly, as soon as Benjamin was out of sight..

“I–uh–I got an email,” I started, trying to explain.

“I didn't ask you to speak,” she cut me off with a raise of one hand.

Great. Already in her bad books.

“Must have slept with Benjamin,” the blonde muttered to no one in particular. “No news there. Man sticks his dick in anything with a pulse.”

My hands clenched at my side. I didn't know how they ran things here, but it was outrightly rude to say this about someone you know nothing about, and worse still she's standing a few feet from you.

“Come with me,” Mrs. Roberts said in a clipped tone, as I fought the urge to set the records straight with that maid.

But I had to keep my mouth shut, mentally reminding myself I wasn't here to make friends, but work.

Mrs. Roberts gave me a tour around the important section of the house that concerned me–they weren't short actually. The kitchen, the kids room, backyard playroom, indoor playroom, study room, and finally the room I'll be staying in.

Then the rules began.

No guests–for me actually.

Not allowed in the west wing as that was Mr. Ford's private quarters.

No taking of pictures, either of the kids, or any part of the house online. And no interacting with media.

Wake the kids up at 7:00 a.m. on school days, and on weekend they're allowed to sleep in.

No late nights.

All screen time monitored, and none without educational value.

No sugary snacks unless approved by Mr. Ford.

Bedtime strictly at 8:30 p.m. and bed time stories are read to the kids by Mr. Ford and no one else.

I nodded, taking mental notes and doing everything in my power not to roll my eyes.

“This has Mr. Ford's number, and every other necessary contact,” she handed me a small cell phone. “You're not to call Mr. Ford unless it's an emergency involving the kids. He will contact you directly if he wishes to speak to them or relay instructions.”

I nodded in understanding.

“One more thing,” Mrs. Roberts' voice suddenly had a sharp edge to it. “Don't get any ideas.”

“Ma'am?”

She stepped closer.

“You may be his kid's nanny, but don't mistake that for an invitation to cozy up to Mr. Ford. He doesn't do love.”

What in the world? I'm here to work lady, not cozy up to your boss, even though he's incredibly handsome.

But I can't risk going back to jail. I'm smarter than that.

“Mr. Ford values his space, his privacy, and his children,” she continued. “You're here for the third one. Not the first two.”

I nodded slowly. “Understood.”

“Good. Because women like you…always get ideas,” she said coldly. “Do you have any questions?”

“Not questions…but I do have a tiny request,” I muttered.

Mrs. Roberts furwwoed her brows in disbelief. 

Well this was important to me as well as this job.

“Go on.”

“I'd like a day off weekly,” I said softly. “Just once a week.”

Mrs. Roberts eyes widened, then she scoffed. “Do you know how many QUALIFIED people would kill for this job, Miss Alexander?”

I parted my lips to respond but she didn't let me.

“You're to be a live-in nanny. Which means you LIVE IN, the house, looking after the kids–”

“Please Mrs. Roberts,” I cut in desperately. “Just one day. Or half a day.”

“No,” she said firmly, in a tone that didn't left room for arguments. “You're not being paid $15,000 a month, plus other bonuses so you can make demands.”

I swallowed hard, understanding what she meant. 

But this day off means so much to me, or I can as well kiss this outrageously paying job goo

dbye.

“I'll send the contract over to you,” Mrs Roberts said, like I hadn't just made a request. “If you're not satisfied with it. You quit.”