Page 9 of The Keeper

“What are your goals for the next five years?”

It seemed like an easy enough question, but Lavinia had never asked me that during an annual performance review. I wasn’t prepared. At all.

“Um…” I scrambled for a suitable response. She probably didn’t want to hear about Antarctica or my desire to move into a flat without constant plumbing issues. “To learn new skills so I can further excel at my job?”

The director of RAB frowned. Clearly, that was the wrong answer.

I should try to think of another response, but I was too distracted. It’d been less than a week since I got fired from Lloyd’s and only five days since Noah “The Asshole” Wilson announced to our friends that I was, in no way, shape, or form, suitable to take care of his daughter.

Okay, he hadn’t said that exactly, but the subtext had been obvious. A nice, normal person would’ve at least entertained the idea before shutting it down, but he’d rejected me immediately.

His instant dismissal bothered me more than I cared to admit. He’d used our mutual friend group as an excuse, but it was more than that. Did he think I wasn’t responsible enough? Experienced enough? Good enough? Did he look at my previous side gigs and think something was wrong with me because I couldn’t hold down a second job? Whatever it was, his instant dismissal stung.

It was ridiculous because I didn’t even want to nanny for Noah. Sure, it would’ve been the perfect solution to my problem, but he went through nannies faster than a kid went through candy. It was a huge red flag.

What do you think happened, Carina?

My cheeks blazed every time I remembered his cool disdain. Maybe he was right. Maybe I’d imagined our moment in Budapest, the same way I’d imagined Danny Lee liking me after he smiled at me in school. (He hadn’t, and I later found out he’d been smiling at his friend behind me).

“That is admirable, but what are your goals beyond your current position?” Lavinia asked, bringing me back to her office. “You’ve been my executive assistant for six years. You’re doing an excellent job, but I want to make sure you don’t feel…stifled.”

“Not at all. I’m very happy here.”

Lavinia looked like she wanted to say something else, but after a heavy pause, she merely nodded.

Annual review over.

I left her office feeling strangely guilty. Why? Because I didn’t have bigger dreams and ambitions? Because I couldn’t think of anything else I’d rather do than clock in and out of a stable, predictable job?

Being an executive assistant wasn’t super exciting, but I really did like working at RAB. Lavinia was a fair boss, and it was just…easy. Life was hard enough without further complicating things for myself.

Sure, there were days when I wished I was as passionate about something as Scarlett was about ballet or Brooklyn was about nutrition, but I couldn’t force it.

I returned to my desk and discreetly pulled up my job search tab. So far, no luck, but maybe today would be my lucky day.

I didn’t have any unfinished work tasks, so I scrolled through the listings until one caught my eye.

Experienced nanny needed in central London.

My heart skipped a beat. Then I read the description and realized this was definitely not Noah. For one, the family had twin boys, and Noah would never put up a public job listing. He was too cautious.

That being said…holy shit. Was that the average pay for a nanny? Maybe I should’ve fought harder for the position after all.

My phone lit up with an incoming call, distracting me from my musings. Mum.

Alarm bells went off in my head. My parents would never call me during work hours unless it was an emergency.

I picked up immediately. “Mum? Is everything okay?”

“Carina.” My normally cool, composed mother sounded frazzled. The alarm bells rang louder. “There’s been an incident.”

The roof of my parents’ house collapsed. I kid you not.

They lived in an old, rambling Victorian in Liverpool, and apparently, a combination of age, water damage, and timber rot had caused the roof to cave in on a random Thursday in March. Thankfully, my parents had been at work, and no one had been hurt.

However, this meant they had to live in a hotel until repairs were done. That would take at least a week, and it didn’t include all the work required to clean up the aftermath.

Between the roof collapse and my flat’s exploding toilet, I was beginning to think my family was house-cursed.