Shonee's POV
"Dinner is served!" Gerta announced. "Tonight, you are having a sumptuous truffle-infused mashed potato dish accompanied by some pan-seared wild mushrooms and a drizzle of aged balsamic reduction, enjoy."
"Thanks," I said before Gerta took her leave.
I was currently seated on the left side of the grand dining table with a five-year-old seated at the head.
Gerta's mouth-watering dish lay before us, and though I was quite eager to dig in and fill my tummy since I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, I couldn't because the little girl beside me hadn't moved an inch.
After a minute's silence, I asked, "You hungry, Mirasol?"
No response. She just sat, glaring at her empty plate.
I picked it up, scooped a little bit of everything and set the plate in front of her.
She eyed me wearily.
"Dig in," I urged her. "Mashed potatoes are a classic. They are good for you." After serving myself a generous helping, I made a show of enjoying the meal to encourage her to eat. "Mmm, tastes so good."
Mirasol's dark eyes narrowed to slits, and I wondered what was going on in her brain until she did the unthinkable.
Without hesitation, the little girl flipped her meal over. The deep, rich brown colour of the balsamic reduction stained the fancy tablecloth.
"Hey!" I quickly picked up the plate, trying to clear the mess before it got any worse.
Mirasol, on the other hand, pushed her chair back and was about to hop off when I grabbed her.
"Where do you think you are going? You need to finish your dinner."
"Let go of me!" She whined, hitting me with her little fists.
"No! You need to eat!" I pushed her back into the chair.
"You can't tell me what to do!" She yelled. "You're not my mum!"
Before I could even think of a response, a thick blob of mashed potatoes smacked me hard in the face, blinding one eye.
"Ah!" I brushed the heavy mixture away. "Mirasol!"
The little girl dashed out of the dining room, and I chased after her. But I was unable to catch her because she quickly slipped into her bedroom and locked the door behind her.
"Mirasol!" I hit the wood repeatedly. "You better get out here!"
"No!" She snapped. "Go away! I don't like you!"
That last sentence made me pause for a minute and I banged the door again out of frustration. "Argh! Mirasol!" When I finally gave up and turned around, Gerta stood behind me holding out a table napkin.
Angry, I snatched the fabric from her, wiped off the remaining mashed potato on my eye and walked away.
*****
The digi-clock on my nightstand read 11:42 pm.
I'd been lying in bed for over an hour now, trying to catch a few winks. But those winks wouldn't come because the whole dinner incident kept replaying itself in my head.
Gerta told me not to take Mirasol's tantrums to heart. "She did the same thing to Madam Avril the first time they had dinner together," she had said. But Gerta didn't get it.
Avril hired me to handle those tantrums. If she finds out that I can't control Mirasol, I might as well kiss this job goodbye.
My phone vibrated with a message, and I picked it up.
Jordin: Hey, you awake? How did your first day go?
My fingers flew over the keyboard.
Me: In one simple sentence: IT WAS A DISASTER.
Jordin: Oh, come on, you're exaggerating. It couldn't have been that bad.
My eyebrows dipped into a frown as I typed in a response.
Me: That brat threw mashed potatoes into my eye and had me chase after her like a mad woman. How is that not a disaster?
Jordin sent in a couple of laughing emojis then sent a reply.
Jordin: Relax Shon. You're a complete stranger to her that's why she did all those things. Word of advice: Try finding out what she likes from the house staff. That can help you win her over.
Me: Right, thanks Jordie.
Jordin: No p. I gotta go. Avril is having a major staff meeting tomorrow at 8, and I've gotta get some shut-eye if I want to be useful in the morning.
Me: Cool, Goodnight.
Jordin: Night, night, bestie😊
I set the phone down on my nightstand and closed my eyes, hoping that sleep would waltz in any moment from now. But after thirty minutes of tossing and turning, I gave up and pulled myself out of bed.
Maybe a warm glass of milk will do the trick.
Pushing my feet into my bedroom slippers, I trudged out of my room and into the hallway. The quiet mansion echoed with the stillness of the night as I ventured into the kitchen. If this glass of milk doesn't work, I'll have no other option but to drink a whole pot of coffee tomorrow morning.
The new environment had me scrambling for the kitchen light switch. My fingers fumbled in the darkness until they felt the plastic material on the wall and flipped it on. Soft light spilt into the room, and I immediately shrieked, heart threatening to jump out of my chest.
There, leaning against the kitchen island with an air of casual elegance, was a man with his shirt half-open, revealing a glimpse of a well-defined chest. In his hand was a crystal glass of whiskey, its amber contents catching the light like liquid gold. My breath caught, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still, our eyes locked in a moment of mutual astonishment.
"Who the heck are you?" I blurted out.
"I should be asking you the same question," he fired back, and I frowned.
"I'm Shonee, the new nanny who came in today."
"Nanny?" He quirked up a confused eyebrow until realization hit him. "Fuck Avril! I told her to wait till I return."
Wait till he returns? Then it dawned on me. Vincent Beckham! In the living flesh. I didn't think I'd be seeing him until next week because Avril told me he was on a business trip.
"Uhm..." The whole room felt awkward now, and it grew intense when I caught his hard gaze running up my frame.
The warmth of embarrassment crawled up my face when I realized how exposed I was. The ice-cream pyjama shorts I wore left all my thighs bare and my mint green tank top did absolutely nothing to hide my peaked nipples. It was at this minute that I began to curse myself for not grabbing my robe earlier, then again, I didn't know I was going to meet him here.
I wrapped my arms around my body, trying to hide my embarrassment.
Vincent on the other hand just picked up his whiskey glass and pushed himself off the kitchen island. "Goodnight." He walked away, using the second entrance.
Frazzled and confused, I heaved out a breath and then proceeded to tackle my main agenda. I quickly heated the milk, poured it into a glass and evacuated the kitchen in case, Vincent wanted to come back for a whiskey refill.
"Come to think of it, what was he doing sipping whiskey in the dark like that?" I mumbled, shutting the door to my room, and settling down at my desk.
Maybe he didn't want anyone noticing his half-opened shirt, my subconscious suggested, and my mind quickly brought up the memory of him leaning against the counter with an effortless charm. His unbuttoned shirt showed off a glimpse of his chiselled abs and well-defined muscles that were enough to make any woman drool, me included.
I swallowed hard. I could now see why James had a crush on him. Vincent Beckham was definitely beyond good-looking.
What a wonderful way to meet your boss, my subconscious remarked as I took a longer sip of the warm milk, hoping that it would erase the effect his physique was having on me.
I wonder if my physique had an effect on him too, I thought, remembering how his dark eyes drank in my body.
I quickly shook my head. I just pray that he doesn't mention our awkward encounter to Avril. Being his fiancée, I don't think she'd be happy finding out that Vincent saw me in nothing but pyjamas, even if it was an accident.
Sighing, I sipped more of my milk, already feeling the drowsiness coming up and it wasn't long till I was transported to dream world.