Nanny Undercover

Chapter 3: Lots of Talking

"Hello," Goldie said briefly to the three people in the office as she entered.

The man behind the desk was dressed in a suit, formal and darkly handsome. The couple sitting on the sofa holding hands were middle-aged and looked at her, equal parts hopeful and anxious.

"How did they look?" the woman asked. "Were you able to get any pictures you could show us?"

Goldie shook her head. "I'm sorry, Ms. Velasquez, it would've looked too suspicious, but I promise, after I move in, I'll have plenty of opportunities as their nanny to take photographs of them."

"It's criminal," the man declared. "We're their grandparents, we shouldn't be kept from them like this. Maggie wouldn't have wanted it."

"We know," the man behind the desk interjected smoothly. "That's why you hired us, right? Ms. Sorenson and I are going to take care of this for you, we give you our word."

Goldie, too, nodded. "He's definitely in trouble," she told them. "There's no way he can take care of them on his own, he needs me."

"He's a terrible man, Mr. Edwards, like we told you, a rock star, living a horrible lifestyle, and already dating some model, with our daughter not even six months gone," Sofia Velasquez said, pulling out a handkerchief and making the sign of the cross. "He's simply not an appropriate caregiver for our granddaughters."

"I don't think he's dating that woman, if it makes you feel any better," Goldie said. "He doesn't have the time." Goldie told them of the plan for her to move in the following morning. "So I'll be right there, ready to document anything he says or does that shows he's unfit to parent them, okay? Don't worry. And I'll be reporting to Mr. Edwards, every week."

The Velasquezes left shortly after, and Goldie let out a sigh of relief as she closed the door behind them.

"How did such a nice couple end up not being able to see their own grandchildren again?" she asked. "Edwards?"

He looked up from where he was making some notes on a legal pad. "How many times have I asked you to call me by my first name? Is it so hard to call me Griffin?"

Goldie remained silent.

He considered her question. "Hm? Oh. You know, the usual. They're devout Catholic, but forgot to raise their daughter to be, so she picked a guy who wasn't, then she lived in sin with him, which upset them, which upset her, and so on. They were against the surrogacy, yada yada yada, and the daughter died before they had a chance to make up, so now the guy, Ormonde, feels like he'd be going against his dead wife's wishes if he lets them see his daughters. Something like that."

He grinned and gestured at himself. "Enter moi, to solve the problem and earn beaucoup bucks while doing so."

"Kinda gross, don't you think?" Goldie said.

"Kinda lucrative," he retorted. "Which is what you should be thinking, since I sign your paycheck." He looked at her with a little more interest, giving her his full attention. "You up for a drink? Talk about all this some more?"

Goldie looked back. "What is there to talk about? I got the job, I'm in. I start gathering dirt tomorrow, and I'll send whatever I find your way."

Griffin rose from his desk, looking at her speculatively. "Come on, just a drink. You owe me one, remember?"

Goldie sighed again. "Dammit, Griff, we've been through this already. Why do we have to have the same conversation over and over? No thank you. To the drink and to anything else."

He was moving toward her, so Goldie simply left, closing the door and quickly exiting the outer office, taking the stairs instead of the elevator. She usually went to the gym or jogging every other day, so she was in pretty good shape, though she knew that was going to have to change after she moved into Jeff's place.