Chapter 7 Earn A Quick Buck

Eden’s POV

Why the hell did I say that? I must be completely stupid or something. Of course, I never had a Clancy Doll’s House! Or at least Eden Winters didn’t. Eden Clancy has five.

It was my dad’s idea. He was such a weirdo; he absolutely loved spending his Saturday afternoons going to antique shops. Junk shops, if you ask me. I used to complain about it all the time. I hated going with him but he always insisted.

Then one day I saw the most beautiful, ridiculously old Victorian doll house and I begged him for it. More like demanded he buy it for me, actually.

I was a little bit spoilt. Bratty even. Not that my dad seemed to mind. He didn’t hesitate to buy it for me and then for weeks we spent every weekend working on it together. That house became the prototype for the first batch of Clancy Doll’s Houses, of which there were only five sold worldwide.

After that we did the same thing every summer. We’d go searching for the most beautiful antique doll houses until we found the perfect one. By the seventh year, we’d become quite the experts on doll’s houses and rather snooty about it and it took us forever to find a house that either of us were happy with.

“Do you know the story behind the doll’s houses?”

I blink, trying not to panic. I can hardly say yes but I’m a crummy liar.

“Mhmm… No.”

He looks momentarily disappointed, not that I know why.

“It’s sort of legendary around here,” he tells me quietly. “Derek Clancy and his daughter used to design them together. The originals are supposed to have pride of place in her bedroom. They only stopped when he and his wife died.”

I suck in a breath, trying not to show any emotion.

“Rumour has it there is a seventh unfinished house.”

“Really?” I manage to get the words out.

“Yeah but who knows if it’s true. It’s just a rumour. But you should definitely count yourself extremely lucky that you have one of those.” He lets out a whistle, leaning back in his chair smirking. “A tenner! As if it was going for a tenner.”

With a shake of his head, he glances down at his watch.

“I have a meeting,” he says, climbing to his feet. “You should go acquaint yourself with your work space. I’m sure Becky left a load of work for you to do.”

He sounds irritable, the easy tone of his conversation about the doll’s houses long gone. He grabs his suit jacket that is currently resting on the back of his chair and I practically gawk at him as he puts it on. It’s funny. Behind his desk he looked just like any other office worker.

Now, not so much. He’s toned to perfection, with powerful forearms and broad shoulders and suddenly I feel as short as my grandma.

He begins to make his way across the office and I go to follow after him but he pauses when he reaches the door, turning to face me.

“I really hope you’ll take this job seriously, Miss Winters.” I feel like he’s trying to get a read on me or something, like he’s trying to understand something about me. “No matter whether you came here because of the Clancy House or because you just needed a job, I expect you to meet the deadlines I set, to be professional, to have a brilliant work ethic. You will treat this job like it’s been your dream since you were a little girl.”

He eyes me up and down before letting out a deep breath. He takes me by the shoulders suddenly, pulling me towards a window the overlooks the busy department.

“The people out there,” he says, “hell, even Becky, you’re awful predecessor, had more experience than a lucky find in a charity shop. Even if it was a Clancy House.”

I go to move out of his reach but his grip tightens on my shoulders, as he says so quietly it’s almost a whisper straight into my ear, “they have degrees in design. They create masterpieces like that precious Doll's House every day. They work tirelessly, day in and day out to meet the deadlines I set.”

I tense, trying to hide the way my breath hitches in my throat or the way his breath against my ear makes a shiver run through me.

“It’s a family legacy,” he says, his tone cutting, “and it will not be tarnished by someone looking to ‘earn a quick buck’ or just pay the bills.”

I turn on my heels to face him, glaring daggers at him. I open my mouth ready to tell him exactly what I think of the Clancy family legacy but he doesn’t give me time to get the words out.

“I’m sure HR have already informed you but you are on a two month probation.”

Probation? Is he kidding me? I’m Eden Clancy.

I feel like shouting out my name in protest. What a pompous arse! How dare he!

“You know nothing about me,” I say far calmer than I feel.

“And that is why you have two months to prove yourself,” he says, before buttoning his jacket and leaving the room.