Chapter 19: [1.18] A Trial by Fire
Vivienne set down her tablet.
"Let me make sure I understand. You’re declining the weekend residency requirement?"
"I’m saying it needs to be modified."
"This isn’t a negotiation, Mr. Angelo."
"With respect, Miss Valentine, everything is a negotiation."
Her eyes flashed. Annoyance or interest, I couldn’t tell. "The previous assistants accepted these terms without question."
"And where are they now?"
"That’s..." She paused. "That’s not relevant."
"It’s entirely relevant. Seven people took this job. Seven people quit or were fired. Maybe the problem isn’t the candidates. Maybe it’s the terms."
Cassidy laughed. "Holy shit. You’ve got balls."
"Cassidy, language."
"No, Viv, listen to him. He’s not wrong." She turned to me, something new in her expression. Grudging respect, maybe. "Seven assistants. All professionals. All with experience. All gone within weeks. And here’s this scholarship kid from nowhere, questioning our entire setup."
"I’m not questioning your setup. I’m protecting my interests."
"Same thing. And honestly? It’s refreshing." She grinned. The predatory grin I remembered from school. "Most people kiss our asses. You’re negotiating like we’re equals."
"We are equals."
"We’re really not."
"In this context, we are. You need an assistant. I need a job. Supply and demand."
"Except there are four other candidates."
"Are there?"
The sisters exchanged another glance. I caught something there. Something that suggested the other candidates weren’t actually serious competition.
Interesting.
"Let’s table the residency issue for now." Vivienne picked up her tablet again. "What other questions do you have?"
"Scope of duties. What exactly am I being asked to do?"
"Schedule management. Transportation coordination. Errand running. Academic assistance when needed." She paused. "Cassidy requires tutoring."
"I don’t—"
"Your GPA says otherwise."
"My GPA can kiss my sexy ass!"
"Cassidy."
Cassidy crossed her arms but fell silent.
"Academic assistance for one sister," I noted. "What about the others?"
"Sabrina and I maintain acceptable grades independently." Vivienne’s tone made it clear what she thought of "acceptable" versus her own performance. "Harlow occasionally needs help with mathematics."
"Numbers are hard!" Harlow protested. "They move around and stuff!"
I filed this away. One struggling student. One math-phobic student. Two independent. Manageable.
"Anything else I should know? Hidden duties? Expectations not listed in the job description?"
"Such as?"
"Previous assistants quit for reasons. I’d like to know what those reasons might be."
Sabrina spoke for the first time.
"They couldn’t handle us."
Her voice was the kind of voice you had to lean in to hear, even in silence.
I turned to her. "What does that mean?"
"It means what it means." Her purple eyes held mine. "We’re difficult. People expect heiresses to be pleasant. Cooperative. Grateful for attention." The ghost of a smile. "We are none of those things."
"I’m pleasant!" Harlow protested.
"You’re overwhelming. That’s different."
"I’m not OVER—"
"You offered him snacks fourteen times during after the five-hour stalking mission."
Harlow’s mouth opened. Closed. Her cheeks flushed pink.
"You TOLD her about that?!" Cassidy rounded on her sister.
"I tell Sabrina everything!"
"That was supposed to be COVERT!"
I watched this exchange with the same detachment I usually reserved for nature documentaries. Predators fighting over territory. Siblings being siblings. Chaos in a very expensive package.
Vivienne rubbed her temples. "Can we please maintain some semblance of professionalism?"
"You’re the one who wanted to interview him formally," Cassidy shot back. "The rest of us just wanted to see if he’d cry."
"Let’s refocus." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Residency requirement. We need to find a middle ground."
Vivienne recovered first. She was good at that, I was starting to notice. The mask sliding back into place.
"What do you propose?"
"I can do one overnight per week. Friday night into Saturday. Or Saturday night into Sunday. Not both."
"That’s significantly less than—"
"I’m aware. That’s my limit."
"The compensation reflects the original requirements."
"Then adjust the compensation. Or adjust the requirements. One or the other."
Cassidy whistled low. "He’s really doing this. He’s actually negotiating down a ten-thousand-dollar salary."
"I’m negotiating sustainable terms. There’s no point taking money I can’t earn because the job conflicts with my other responsibilities."
"What other responsibilities?"
"My sister and my education."
She stared at me. They all did. Four pairs of purple eyes, reassessing.
"You’re not a normal candidate," Sabrina said quietly.
"I’m not a normal anything."
"No." A pause. "You’re not."
Harlow broke the tension by standing up and walking over to me.
Before I could react, she was perched on the arm of my chair, close enough that I could smell something floral. Perfume or shampoo.
"I like you."
"Uh."
"No, really! You’re honest! And you care about your sister! And you didn’t cry when Cassidy did her scary face!"
"I didn’t do a scary face."
"You totally did. Earlier. When he sat down."
"That was my face."
"Your regular face is scary, Cass."
"Thanks?"
"You’re welcome!"
Vivienne cleared her throat. "Harlow. Personal space."
"This is professional proximity!"
"That’s not a thing."
"It is now!"
I looked at Harlow. Then at the arm of the chair she was occupying. Then at the three sisters watching this exchange with varying degrees of exasperation.
"Is this a test?"
"What?" Harlow blinked at me.
"Sitting this close. Is it a test? To see how I react?"
"No! I just wanted to be friendly!"
"You’re violating multiple professional boundaries."
"Boundaries are for people who don’t hug!"
"Harlow." Sabrina’s voice was quiet but firm. "Give him space."
Harlow pouted but stood, returning to her original seat.
I took a breath.
These people are exhausting. And I’ve only been here for twenty minutes.
Seven assistants quit. I’m starting to understand why.
"Let’s settle this." Vivienne’s voice had shifted. "Mr. Angelo. You clearly have reservations about the position as offered. And we have concerns about your ability to commit given your other obligations."
"Fair assessment."
"So here’s what I propose. A trial period. One month. You work under the original terms, minus the full weekend residency. One overnight per week, as you requested. At the end of one month, we reassess."
"And the compensation during trial?"
"Full rate. Ten thousand, prorated for the period."
"And if I don’t work out?"
"Then you leave with whatever you’ve earned and we never speak of this again."
I considered this. The terms were better than I’d expected. Still demanding, but workable.
One month. I can survive one month of anything.
"One condition."
Vivienne’s eye twitched. "Another condition?"
"The NDAs I signed. They protect your family’s privacy. I want something that protects mine. My existence stays out of any public documentation. No records. No mentions. If I fail this trial, nobody ever knows I was here."
The sisters looked at each other. Some silent communication passed between them.
Finally, Vivienne nodded.
"Agreed."
"Then we have a deal."
I stood. Extended my hand.
Vivienne stood as well. Took it. Her grip was firm. Professional.
"Welcome to Valentine Manor, Mr. Angelo."
"Isaiah. If I’m going to be dealing with four of you, we might as well use first names."
"Very well. Isaiah." She released my hand. "Cassidy will show you to the guest suite. You’ll want to familiarize yourself with the layout."
"Now?"
"Unless you have somewhere else to be?"
I checked my phone. 3:47 PM. Iris was at her art club until five. The train back to Philly wouldn’t be for hours.
"I suppose I don’t."
"Excellent." Vivienne smiled. It didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Let’s see if you can last longer than the others."
Challenge accepted.
Cassidy stood, stretching like a cat. "Come on, scholarship boy. Time for the grand tour."
"My name is Isaiah."
"I know." She grinned. "I just like watching you get annoyed."
She walked toward the door. I followed.
Behind me, I heard Harlow’s voice, loud and excited: "I think he’s going to make it! I really do!"
And Sabrina’s response, quiet enough that I almost missed it:
"Maybe. If he doesn’t run first."
Run? From this?
Lady, I commute five hours daily and work until midnight. Running is the last thing on my mind.
The door closed behind us.
The tour began.