Chapter 6: [Hozier]

"Did I stutter?"

"No, sir. I heard you perfectly."

"Then I don't see the need for repetition."

I pressed my lips together. "I understand the security arrangements, but I'm not sure why I would need permission to leave the property during my personal time."

"You won't need permission. You'll need to inform the household manager."

"That sounds very similar to asking permission."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

I straightened in my chair. "I don't mind following reasonable household procedures. I understand that this is a private residence, and I respect your need for security. But I'm applying for a housekeeping position, not asking to become a prisoner."

Silence settled between us, and I  immediately wondered whether I had just ruined my chances.

He leaned back, studying me with an expression I couldn't quite read. "You seem to have a great deal to say for someone who needs a job."

My cheeks warmed, but I kept my voice steady. "Needing a job doesn't mean I have to agree to everything without understanding it."

"You're quite comfortable challenging the person interviewing you."

"I wasn't aware that asking a question counted as challenging you."

For a moment, I thought he might tell me to leave. Instead, he looked down at the papers again.

"Your working hours will be agreed upon with Margaret. You will have one full day off each week, and your salary will be paid monthly. Your room and meals are included. Any additional hours will be discussed beforehand."

That was considerably more useful information than the rules he had spent the last several minutes reciting.

"May I ask what the salary is?"

He gave me the figure.

I had to make a conscious effort not to react. It was more than I had expected, especially with accommodation and meals included. It would give me room to breathe, provided the position was as straightforward as it sounded.

"And the duties?" I asked. "Would I be responsible for the entire house, or would there be other staff members?"

"Margaret manages the household. You will assist with the cleaning, laundry and general upkeep of the residence. Other staff members handle the kitchen and grounds."

"All right."

"You will also be expected to maintain a professional standard of conduct."

"I can do that."

"Good."

He stood, making it clear that the interview was nearly over.

I rose as well, reaching for my bag.

"One more thing, Mr Pruitt."

I turned towards him.

"Don't mistake my decision to employ you for an invitation to become familiar with me. I have no interest in unnecessary conversation, personal questions or attempts to make this arrangement anything other than professional."

I stared at him for a second. "I wasn't planning to become your best friend, sir."

His expression didn't change."See that you remember it."

I nodded, though I was beginning to regret every decision that had brought me to this house.

He opened the door and called for Margaret. She appeared almost immediately, as if she had been waiting nearby.

"Show him the room he'll be using," he instructed. "If he accepts the terms, have the necessary documents prepared."

"Of course, sir."

He walked past us without another word.

I watched him disappear down the corridor before turning to Margaret.

"Is he always like that?"

Her eyes flickered towards the direction he had gone. "Like what?"

I considered my answer. "Very welcoming."

She gave me a small, professional smile. "You'll get used to the household."

That wasn't particularly reassuring.

Margaret showed me the room on the second floor, tucked away at the end of a quieter corridor. It was modest compared with the rest of the house, but it had a comfortable bed, a wardrobe, a small desk and a private bathroom. There was even a window overlooking the gardens.

It was more than I had expected.

"This will be yours for as long as you're employed here," she explained. "You may arrange your belongings however you like, provided you keep the room tidy."

I looked around, imagining what it would feel like to wake up somewhere without worrying about whether I would still have a roof over my head the following week.

"Thank you. It's lovely."

"Your meals will be served in the staff dining room. I'll give you a schedule once your paperwork is complete. You can also speak to me if you have questions about your duties."

"That's helpful. Thank you, Margaret."

She handed me a folder containing the employment documents. I took a few minutes to read through them, paying particular attention to the salary, working hours, days off and termination terms. 

Everything matched what had been discussed. I asked Margaret to clarify one section concerning additional hours, and she explained it without making me feel foolish for asking.

Once I was satisfied, I signed.

I was employed.

The relief that moved through me was almost embarrassing. After losing my job, receiving the scholarship notification and being told I had two days to leave my apartment, I finally had something that resembled a solution.

It wasn't perfect. I still had an appeal to fight, belongings to move and a great deal of uncertainty waiting for me. But I had a place to sleep and an income to work towards.

For now, that was enough.

Margaret collected the folder and told me she would arrange for my belongings to be brought over once I had settled the necessary details. I thanked her again before following her back towards the entrance.

As I stepped outside, I glanced once more at the imposing house.

I had imagined that working for a wealthy family would involve difficult schedules. And that man was the worst part of it.

He had the sort of presence that made people lower their voices when he entered a room. There was something dark about him, something that made me wonder what kind of person needed that much security and that many rules around his private life.

I couldn't tell whether he was simply wealthy and arrogant or whether there was something far more unpleasant beneath all that polished control.

Either way, I had no intention of finding out.

I had come here because I needed a job, not because I wanted to be involved in the personal affairs of a stranger.

Unfortunately, I had a feeling that working for him would make that rather difficult.

I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and started down the driveway.

One thing was certain.

I didn't like him.