Unsuitable
Page 10

As soon as I can afford it, I’ll buy some new clothes.
I stand and look at myself in the mirror.
I look exactly like I used to before all of this happened, except thinner and older.
I definitely look older.
Sadness overwhelms me, and I want to cry, but I refuse to.
I’ve cried enough to last me a lifetime. No more.
I focus on the now. New job. Get Jesse back.
Sucking it up, I grab my bag and put my iPod in it. Then, I let myself out of my room.
I pop my head round Cece’s half-opened door. “I’m off to work.”
God, it feels good to say that.
Even if I am only a glorified cleaner, I don’t care.
I have a job.
Cece is sitting at her dressing table, applying makeup, with a bath towel wrapped around her. “You look nice.” She smiles at me in the mirror before turning to face me.
“I look like crap,” I tell her, grinning.
“Shut up,” she chastises. “You’re gonna knock ’em dead at your new job.”
“I don’t want to kill them. I just got out of prison. I’m not looking to go back.”
“Funny.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Isn’t it early to be setting off? I thought you started at half past eight.”
“I do, but it’s a fifteen-minute walk to the train station, forty-five minutes on the train, and according to Toby’s instructions, a twenty-minute walk from the station to the Matis Estate.”
“I can drop you at the train station, if you want? I don’t have to be at work until ten.”
“Nah, it’s fine.” I wave her off. “You’re not dressed, and I fancy the walk.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” I smile at her. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Takeaway and a bottle of wine to celebrate your first day?”
“Sounds perfect.”
Giving her a wave, I head off. I stop off in the kitchen to grab a banana, a Dairylea Snack Box, and a bottle of water from the fridge for my lunch. I put them in my bag and leave the apartment.
Five
I reach the train station in good time and buy my ticket at the booth. I’m not waiting long before my train pulls in.
I get an empty seat by the window and get out my iPod. Putting my earphones in, I turn the music on and let Muse take me into another world for a while.
It seems like no time at all, and the train is pulling in at my station.
I put my iPod in my bag and get up from my seat.
I get off the train, and using the route instructions Toby gave me, I walk out of the station and onto the main road. Then, I turn off and make my way down a quiet country road.
It feels like I’ve been walking for ages, just endless fields and trees, before I see a high brick wall in the distance.
It reminds me of the wall that surrounded the prison.
Shudder.
I reach the high wall and keep going until I come upon huge wrought iron gates. On the wall to my right is a bronze placard with the words Matis Estate engraved in black lettering on it.
I’ve made it! And with time to spare. Let’s hope my early show earns me some brownie points with my new employer.
Okay, so how do I get in this place?
Glancing around, I notice an intercom and keypad on the opposite wall of the placard. I press the call button and wait, and then out of nowhere, I feel a sudden bout of nerves.
A minute later, I hear a crackle on the line, and then a deep male voice says, “Yes?”
My skin breaks out in goose bumps. I don’t know if it’s because of the sexy-sounding voice coming out of the speaker or because I’m nervous.
“Hi.” My voice is squeaky. I clear my throat and try again. I lean closer to the speaker. “My name is Daisy Smith. I’m, um, starting work here today as a maid.”
The line crackles again and then disconnects.
A few seconds later, I hear a loud clang, and the gates begin to slowly open.
When the gap is big enough for me to fit through, I slip in and head down the gravel driveway. Trees line my right side, and open fields are to my left with roped off paddocks surrounding scatterings of horses. The driveway is long and winding.
Finally, it opens out onto a paved courtyard with a manicured lawn to the left, and the house is straight across from me.
And what a house it is.
I’ve never seen a house this big in real life.
It’s beautiful. Brown sandstone bricks. Two-stories high with attic windows. Triple garage to my right.
It’s a house that people like me dream of living in but, in reality, will only ever get to clean.
Taking a deep breath, I walk up the two small steps and onto the covered porch, and I ring the doorbell.
I hear the chime as I take a step back and wait.
Heavy footsteps approach, and then the door swings open.
Oh, fuck.
Those are the first words that enter my head when I see the guy standing on the other side of the door because he is an oh-fuck kind of guy.
He’s tall. I’m five foot five, and this guy towers over me. He looks to be around my age, maybe a few years older. He’s wearing navy-blue trousers and a white shirt. The top button is open, the sleeves rolled up.
He’s built. Not bodybuilder bulky, but he clearly works out.
He has a deep scar on his chin and one cutting through his eyebrow, which is pulled toward the other in a frown. Roman nose. High cheekbones. Jaw like a razor. His hair is dark brown, collar-length, and swept back off his face. He looks like he hasn’t shaved in days. Everything about him shouldn’t work, but it does.