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Three

"‘You what now?’" Samantha's voice suddenly became surprised. As the fast-moving car drove past the Empire State Building, a place that recently made my heart ache whenever I passed by, I gazed out the window.

"I'm looking at getting a babysitter's job," I repeated to Samantha, who had initially called to apologize for not making it to my place the previous day.

"‘A... a... babysitter?’" She seemed to choke on the words. "‘Grace, you are one hell of a hotcake in the publishing world, and you want to become a babysitter?’"

"I don't want to deal with that life for now. I need a huge break from reading lengthy manuscripts."

"‘And babysitting is your option? You could decide not to even get a job; you are that well-off.’"

"Samantha, I can't sit around doing nothing; you know that's never been my way. I want a distraction, and babysitting is my distraction. Well, for now, I'm not so sure I'll get the job."

"‘So, if you don't get the job, are you going to work at McDonald's?’"

"Samantha, just trust me on this one."

"‘Okay, girl. So who are you going to babysit?’"

"I don't know. They didn't specify."

"‘What if it's an old man?’"

"Well, we'll see how that works out, won’t we?"

Samantha exhaled loudly into the phone, as if to say, 'I'm tired of you, but I love you anyway.' "‘Okay, Grace. As long as this distraction ensures you don't spend all night drunk in a bar, it's not a bad idea.’" I smiled into the phone, relieved the 'trying to remind me of who I am' conversation was over.

"We're here, ma'am," my Uber driver informed me as he parked in front of a black gate. I thanked him and got out of the car, listening to Samantha give orders to one of the new interns at work.

When she returned to our conversation, I said, "Well, I'm in front of my destination now, and..." I moved forward to peek through the gate bars at the house I was about to enter. I frowned. "...uh, the house looks like a hotel. It's huge."

"‘Maybe they're just in town for a while and decided to stay at a hotel. Obviously, they're wealthy; at least you won't be getting lousy pay.’" I rolled my eyes at her words. A security guard passing by asked why I was standing outside, and I told him my purpose. He opened the gate, and I entered, still on the phone.

As the security guard led me to my destination, my eyes widened. The place was even larger than it appeared from outside. "‘Uh... Grace, are you there?’"

That snapped me out of staring at the tall, almost entirely glass building with a neon sign displaying the hotel's name. "Sam... I'm standing in front of the Hotel Pierre." It took a lot of self-control not to shriek, which would have been awkward. Hotel Pierre is one of the most exclusive in the country, a hotel for celebrities and the ultra-wealthy. I might be well-off, but I could never afford even the smallest room at this hotel.

I tuned back into Sam, who was chattering away excitedly. "‘Oh, I'm sure this family is rich. Go get that job, girl.’"

"I thought you said the job wasn't for me."

"‘Well, now it is. You might even earn more than you did at Elite.’" I could hear rustling in the background.

The guard escorted me past the hotel's front, where I could see exotic cars parked, waiting for their affluent owners. "I need to go now. Take care."

"‘You have to tell me everything later.’" I smiled again into the phone and ended the call.

"We're going to enter from the back; there are fewer eyes there," he said, answering the unspoken question in my mind. My imagination ran wild with what the interior might look like; I wouldn't be surprised if gold was a prominent theme. After walking to the building's rear, which had fewer onlookers but more cars parked just a few meters away, we entered through a door, facing an elevator shortly after.

Even the back of the hotel was lavish, with red carpet running the length and breadth of the ground. "After you, ma'am," the guard said, holding the elevator door open for me. A chime sounded as we entered, and the doors closed. He pressed a button labeled 'PH 5'.

We were going to a penthouse? This family must be incredibly wealthy. The elevator stopped and the doors opened to reveal a room with a green-carpeted floor.

As soon as we stepped out, the adjacent elevator opened too, and its few occupants, eyes glued to their phones, stepped out. They were all dressed in suits, so I assumed they were businessmen, deeply focused on their devices. They walked further away from the elevator and spread out, allowing me to see their faces more clearly.

I scanned the group, wondering if I'd recognize anyone from newspapers, the internet, or maybe the business weekly magazine. That was when my gaze landed on a particularly sturdy figure.

Okay... uh... this is the part where something between my legs drops, and I have to quickly pick it back up before I do something foolish.

He raised his head to speak with the man in front of him, and I felt my breath stop for a second. His irises were so blue it seemed they could peer into your soul and reveal whatever you hold within. That blueness made everything else about him shine even more. His long lashes, fluttering as he spoke, made his eyes all the more beautiful. His square face, almost perfectly serious, completed his whole demeanor.

As I had observed earlier, the blueness of his eyes made his sleek hair even shinier. His black suit, too, was not exempt from this shine; it fit his body perfectly.

My gaze returned to his face, and I must say, Drunk Rose just fell in love, and she isn’t even awake!

The man is just so hot!

The guard beside me cleared his throat, prompting me to tear my eyes away from the incredibly handsome guy still engaged in conversation. I immediately composed myself, hoping I hadn’t embarrassed myself by ogling. I touched the side of my mouth to check for drool and, assured that I hadn’t embarrassed myself to that extent, I smiled.

"Sorry, I had to take a call." He had left my side to take a call? Wow, I had been deeply engrossed in ogling.

"Let's go," he motioned, and I followed him.

"Good day, Mr. Powers," he greeted one of the businessmen. When the devilishly handsome man looked our way, I felt my breath catch again, even though he wasn't looking at me. He briefly raised his hand in response to the guard's greeting, glancing at me before returning to his conversation.

Oh God! I hope I didn’t look crazily starved. As I wondered who he was exactly, the guard stopped in front of what I guessed was the penthouse entrance.

"You'll see a corridor leading to where people are seated. That's your destination. Just sit there until it's your turn." I thanked the man.

As soon as I opened the door, my eyes widened in admiration. The living room looked incredibly exotic. Thanks to the uncovered French doors that spanned the entire wall, I could see a great deal of the city. I took a moment to calm myself, considering the sheer amount of luxury before me. Near the doors, about five white couches were arranged around a center glass table.

Despite that arrangement, there was still ample space, including a grand piano placed close to the staircase, just a few steps from where I stood. There was so much space.

Wow, talk about money. I remembered my purpose and headed for the corridor on my right, admiring the artworks on the walls.

Soon, I heard chattering. I entered the room, which turned out to be the kitchen—also huge.

I took a seat just behind the first row of chairs with a few people seated in them. There were about ten of us in the room.

I took out my phone, as staring in awe at the enormous kitchen or chatting with the women in front of me was not my thing.

After a while, I was called to what the lady had termed the interview room. And I must say, their storeroom made a great interview space. It was spacious enough to accommodate an average office desk and two chairs facing each other.

"Good morning, Miss..."

"Sands," I replied to the middle-aged woman whose journey to old age seemed to have caught her by surprise, as more than half her hair was silverish. Her sturdy figure took a seat across from me.

"Miss Sands," she said, offering me a brief smile. "Have you ever babysat before?"

"No, never," I said. Not even as a teenager.

"Are you a university graduate?" I nodded affirmatively.

"Is this your first job application?"

"No, I previously worked at a publishing company as an assistant editor."

"Such a nice job. Why are you here then?"

"I, uh..." I didn't think it wise to portray myself as habitually late in an interview. But this family was obviously wealthy and could choose to look into my background. So, I guessed honesty was the best approach.

"I was fired yesterday."

"Why?" Her previously friendly voice turned concerned.

"I, uh... came late to work." My voice was so low, I felt deeply ashamed.

"Actually, it's my fault I was fired. The past two years have been challenging, and for some weeks now, I've been distracted by a not-so-good method, which has affected my work." My sad expression was genuine.

"And how can we be sure it won't affect this job if you're hired?"

Her lack of judgment in her gaze made me feel less ashamed.

"I want this job to be the distraction I'm seeking. It's much more decent and also a completely new experience."

"I see, that's all for now. Leave your details in the box outside and help yourself to some snacks on the island. Good luck." She nodded at me, and I thanked her, surprised she had invited me to take some snacks.

If only most interviews could end that way.

I went outside, took the file with my details from my bag, and dropped it into the box, debating whether to take some snacks. I didn't want to seem greedy.

Ah, screw it! What if I don't get the job? This might be my only chance to eat something from a super-rich family's kitchen. I did a little dance in my head as I walked into the kitchen.

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