Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
I glance at my watch. Seven forty a.m. I’m twenty minutes early.
Historically, I’m not nervous pulling up to someone’s home. I’ve driven CEOs, visiting diplomats, a washed-up sitcom actor who insisted on playing his own theme song through the car speakers. I’ve never cared about the door I’m stopping in front of.
Today is different.
This isn’t a work shift. It’s… a life shift.
Is it too early to ring the bell? Too late to walk around the block to kill some time?
Do I just stand here? Do wealthy people appreciate punctuality or find it too aggressive?
I exhale slowly and smooth the sides of my hair to make sure there are no flyaways under my cap. I felt a little ridiculous, taking the subway in my chauffeur’s uniform, but I have no clue what I’ll be driving today or what the dress code is. When I work for the limo companies, I pick up and return the cars, but the uniform of black pants and black jacket in a cheap polyester was bought with my own money when I landed that job. I thought it was appropriate to wear it this morning, and I glance down at it, noting that it fits the same as it did yesterday and yet it’s not quite as comfortable for some reason..
My phone buzzes in the small pocket of my backpack. It’s from Dylan. All good on first day of the new job?
I smile despite myself and type back quickly. So far. Early arrival to pick up the billionaire.
I lock my phone and glance at the house again.
Seven forty-four.
Okay. Fine. I’ll wait.
I smooth my hands down the front of my jacket, check that my hair is secured at the nape of my neck, and take one more steadying breath.
The front door opens and I freeze.
A tall, silver-haired man steps out onto the stoop with the posture that suggests he was born knowing where the forks go at a twelve-course dinner. It can only be one person.
Percy.
His gaze lands directly on me standing on the sidewalk and he doesn’t look surprised that I’m early.
If anything, he looks downright pleased, and then, to my complete shock, he lifts one gloved hand and waves me inside. I offer a smile and trot up the steps to the open door. Percy moves into the foyer but holds the door open for me.
Up close, the townhouse is even more intimidating with its tall, gleaming facade, the kind of place where you instinctively check the soles of your shoes before stepping inside.
“Ms. Hawthorne,” Percy says as I cross the threshold.
“And you must be Percy,” I say, holding out my hand, which he shakes. “I recognize your voice.”
A faint, approving glint touches his eyes. “I am gratified to hear I’m memorable.”
“You are,” I assure him. “Very. I’m sorry I’m a bit early. I didn’t mind waiting outside.”
He steps aside to allow me fully into the foyer, and I have to resist the urge to look up like a tourist. The ceilings stretch impossibly high. “That will never be a bother. I admire punctuality and Mr. Langley values time. Arriving early communicates respect for it.”
I slowly let out the breath I’d been holding so he doesn’t know how nervous I am.
“I’m glad you did,” he adds smoothly. “It allows us a few minutes to address your uniform.”
“My uniform?” I echo.
He produces a garment bag from a nearby console table as if it materialized from thin air. “A revised one. As you are now exclusively working for Mr. Langley, a distinction seemed appropriate.”
He gestures down a corridor. “There is a powder room just there. You may change.”
I take the garment bag carefully, and it’s almost…ceremonial. “Thank you.”
Inside the powder room, I unzip it slowly. The fabric is rich and tailored. The black jacket is cut clean and sharp at the waist, the trousers sleek without being tight.
I change quickly, smoothing the jacket down my sides and checking myself in the mirror. It fits to perfection.
I step back into the foyer, adjusting the cuff once out of habit. Percy looks me over with a discreet, professional assessment.
“It fits great,” I say, unable to hide my surprise.
“Yes,” he replies. “Mr. Langley has a keen eye. He was bound to get the size correct.”
My stomach flips slightly at that. He noticed enough to estimate my size?
I clear my throat. “That’s… impressive.”
“Mr. Langley rarely engages in approximation,” Percy says. “Particularly where presentation is concerned.”
He gestures for me to walk with him, and we move through the corridor at an unhurried pace. “Allow me to clarify the expectations of your role,” he begins. I straighten. “You are Mr. Langley’s exclusive driver. That means your schedule will revolve around his professional and, at times, personal calendar. Discretion is paramount. Conversations you overhear are not to be repeated and you signed the online NDA form already. Locations are confidential. You will be provided access to his daily itinerary through his executive assistant, Tracey.”