Playboy Prince, Single Dad (Love Is Priceless Book 4) Read online

“Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, nothing to worry about,” Dolores says. “Actually, I’ve had a couple of positive calls from parents recently. They’re all very impressed with the way you’ve incorporated cultural excursions into your tutoring.”

  I can hear a hint of a smile in her voice, and I have to admit, it makes me feel a swell of pride. Dolores is usually incredibly strict, and she doesn’t love deviations from the lesson plans she draws up for her tutors.

  “If you’d asked my permission to do it, I probably would have said no,” she admits. “But it seems to be working more effectively than I would have imagined. Children are actually enjoying the time they spend with a tutor during the summer. Very commendable.”

  So I’m not going to be chastised. Relief floods through me. But then, what is this call about?

  “Were you just calling to let me know that?” I ask. “I mean, I appreciate it if so.” But it does seem like the kind of thing that could have waited until morning.

  “No, that’s not all. I’m calling because I have a job to offer you,” Dolores says. “If you’re interested.”

  I’m always interested in new work, but…

  “I’ve already got a full schedule,” I remind her. “I can’t take on any more clients right now. Unless someone is canceling?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Dolores says. “But this is a bit of a special case. That’s why I’m calling you so late, actually. I just received the request fifteen minutes ago, and the client is hoping to have it filled quickly.”

  “Why me?” I know there are plenty of other tutors employed by our agency who have the bandwidth to take on more clients. They could probably use the money, too. Why am I being offered this job?

  “Well, to tell you the truth,” Dolores says, “the gentleman asked for our best employee.”

  I’m floored. I enjoy tutoring, of course, and I think of myself as pretty good at it, but I never considered that I might be the agency’s top employee.

  “Wow,” is all I can think to say.

  “I know your schedule is full,” Dolores says, “but we’d reassign your other clients to some of our other tutors.”

  “All of them?” I’m confused. “I could give up one client and replace them with this new one. I don’t have to completely clear my schedule.”

  Dolores hesitates. “Actually, that’s a bit complicated,” she says.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ll have to relocate to take the job.”

  “Relocate? To where?”

  I’ve lived in New York for my entire adult life. My attachment to the city isn’t exactly dramatic—Isobel, for example, identifies as a New Yorker more strongly than she identifies as anything else. Still, it is my home. My apartment is here. My friends are here. I’m not at all sure I want to leave.

  “Luxembourg,” Dolores says.

  “What?” I was expecting to hear New Jersey, or possibly even Chicago, but Luxembourg? “They want me to go to Europe?”

  “The gentleman is hoping to engage a long-term tutor for his eight-year-old daughter,” Dolores says. “He’s willing to pay generously and will arrange accommodations for you for as long as you’re in Luxembourg.”

  That was something to consider. If I didn’t have to pay for my own accommodations, I would be able to continue paying the rent on my apartment. I wouldn’t have to give it up.

  “What language do they speak there?” I ask. “Is it German? I don’t speak any German. I wouldn’t be able to teach the little girl.”

  “The father speaks English,” Dolores says. “The girl has a basic grasp as well, so you won’t need to teach her in another language. You can use your English to build on what she already knows. You’re well qualified for their needs, don’t worry about that.”

  “When do they want me?” I ask.

  “Immediately. As soon as you can come. The gentleman will pay your airfare, of course. If you agree to his terms, he wants to book a flight for you later this week.”

  “Later this week?”

  That’s impossibly soon. There’s no way I can wrap up all the business of my life in New York in the space of a few days. I’m going to have to tell Dolores no. I can’t do it.

  And yet…

  I look over at my computer, where the dating website is still pulled up. What have I really got going on here in New York? It’s not as if I have a boyfriend to stick around for. There are my friends, of course, and I love them and would miss them, but I wouldn’t be going forever, and we’re living in the age of the internet. We’d be able to stay in touch, and they’d be here when I came back. I’m not going to lose friendships if I go abroad for a while.

  I’ve got my career to think of, of course, but if anything this will be a positive move for me career-wise. The gentleman asked for our best employee. I feel as though, by taking this job, I would be cementing that status, showing Dolores that she could count on me to take on challenging jobs. After all, relocating to Luxembourg is a huge deal. Not everyone would do it. I have a feeling that most people wouldn’t do it. Especially not on such short notice. It’s enough to give anyone pause.

  Is it enough to hold me back, though?

  I realize, suddenly and with an overwhelming sense of liberation, that I want to go. I’ve always wanted to see the world. And sure, Luxembourg isn’t France, isn’t the overseas adventure I’ve always fantasized about, but it’s a lot closer than I’ve ever been. I’ve longed to see the parts of the world that have always seemed too far away to touch, and now an opportunity has fallen into my lap.

  I would be crazy to say no to this.

  “You can take some time to think about it,” Dolores says. “But not too much time. If you don’t want to take the post, we need to make the offer to someone else so that we can ensure the client gets his tutor in place quickly as per his request.”

  “How long do I have?” I ask.

  “I’d appreciate it if you could let me know tomorrow morning,” she says. “Ordinarily I’d want to give you more time. I recognize it’s a big decision. But this is a very high-profile client, and we don’t want to lose him by dragging our feet.”

  “What makes him so high profile?” I’m thinking of Mr. Li, who was such a high-ranking diplomat and yet never got any particularly special treatment from the agency.

  “It’s mostly the rate he’s agreed to pay,” Dolores admits.

  The agency makes ten percent of whatever I’m paid, so having a client who’s going to pay more would be good for both them and the tutor who takes the placement.

  And I’m curious now.

  “How much is he paying?”

  Dolores names a sum. It’s ten times what I get paid by a normal client, and for a moment I can’t speak. It’s the final detail I need to push me over the edge. From just this one client, I’ll be earning more than I make now from all my clients combined. I can’t say no.

  “I’ll take the job,” I say.

  Dolores laughs. “I thought you might, when you heard about the money.”

  I laugh along with her, not wanting to argue. But of course the money is only part of it. Already I’m itching to get back in front of my computer, to look up the details of Luxembourg. What is the climate like? How many people live there, and what languages do they speak? I make a mental note to buy a new memory card for my camera before I go, so I can make sure I have a chance to take all the pictures I want.

  “I’ll make the flight arrangements with the client,” Dolores says. “And I’ll email you the information. Just make sure you catch that flight, all right? We want to make a good impression with this man. This is the biggest client our agency has ever had, and if things go well, he may recommend us to his friends.”

  I nod automatically, even though she can’t see me. “Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ll make sure to represent us well.”

  “I know you will, Emma,” Dolores says. “You’ve always been a good employee, and there’s no one I would trust mo
re with such an important assignment.” She pauses. “You’d better go and pack now. I anticipate we’ll have you on a plane before the end of the week.”

  “Do you know how long they’re going to want me to stay?”

  “I don’t,” she says. “Consider it an indefinite assignment for now. But you can expect it to come to an end at some point. When you return to New York, I promise you’ll have your pick of clients.”

  I thank Dolores and hang up the phone, feeling slightly dizzy at the pace of everything.

  A few minutes ago, I was sitting in front of my computer feeling overwhelmed at the prospect of agreeing to an internet date. And now I’m going to be leaving my home and everything I know and traveling to a country I know almost nothing about, for who knows how long. It really gives new meaning to the idea of being overwhelmed.

  After taking a moment to gather myself, I get up and walk over to my computer. I hesitate for a moment, then close down my dating profile. There’s no reason to look for a match in New York now—I’ll be leaving. Isobel will be disappointed, I think, but I’m sure she’ll understand. This is a much bigger opportunity than the chance to meet some guy who liked my profile. I have to take advantage of it.

  Still battling the feeling that everything is slightly surreal, I head into my bedroom, reach up to the top shelf of my closet, and pull down my largest suitcase. I’ve got a trip to prepare for, and the clock is already ticking.

  Chapter 6

  Emma

  My plane touches down in Luxembourg three days later. The weather as I step out of the airport is pleasantly cool, a nice break from the baking heat of New York summer. For a moment I wonder what it will be like in the winter—and whether I’ll still be here when winter comes to find out—but the thought quickly flits out of my mind as I realize I have no sense of where I am or what to do next.

  According to the email from the tutoring agency, I’m supposed to be picked up here and taken to my hotel. But I have no idea who’s picking me up. Am I just supposed to get into a car with the first person who asks me? I really should have asked someone about this before I left home.

  “Ms. Clark? Emma Clark?”

  I turn. A stout man in a tidy looking suit and a driving cap stands several feet behind me holding a printed sign with my name on it. Relief washes over me, and I grab the handle of my suitcase and thread my way through the crowd to his side.

  “I’m Emma Clark.”

  “Lovely to meet you, Ms. Clark,” he says briskly. “I’m to transport you to your hotel so that you can dispense with your luggage, and then on to the manor.”

  “The manor?” That’s a pretty fancy way to refer to a home. “I guess that’s where our mutual employer lives?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He’d like to introduce himself today, and to give you the opportunity to meet the little girl as well. Then I’ll bring you back to the hotel.”

  “Will we be seeing a lot of each other, then?” I ask. “It sounds like you’ll be stuck transporting me every day.”

  “No hardship at all, I assure you, ma’am,” he says, tipping his hat. “My name is Karl. It’s a pleasure to be of service.”

  “And you don’t have to keep calling me ma’am,” I tell him. “Emma will be fine.”

  “As you wish, ma’am—Emma.”

  He pops open the trunk of the car, picks up my suitcase as if it weighs nothing, and places it in. Then he steps back up on the curb and opens the door, gesturing that I should get in. I take a seat, and the door is closed for me. I blink.

  I was expecting coming to Luxembourg to be an adjustment, of course. I was prepared for culture shock. But I didn’t think the bulk of my culture shock would come from being in a world of rich people.

  I’ve been around people with money before. I’m used to feeling awkward when I can’t keep up financially. But this is on another level. This is wealth like I’ve only read about or seen on television. This man’s entire job is to act as chauffeur, not only to his employer, but also to his employer’s employees. It boggles the mind.

  The city is built into and over rolling hills, and the hotel turns out to be no exception. Karl stops the car outside the stone building, between two rectangular columns, and reaches back to hand me a key card.

  “The master’s hotel,” he says. “Room number 1120 has been set up for you.”

  “The master’s hotel?” I ask. “You mean he owns it?”

  “Yes, ma’am. One of the highest rated hotels in the country it is, too. I believe you’ll be very comfortable here.”

  So he’s a hotel magnate. That explains the opulence.

  “Will you wait here?” I ask. “I won’t take very long.”

  Karl nods. “Of course. Take your time. When you’ve settled in, we’ll head over to the manor.”

  He holds the door for me as I exit the car. Then he hauls my suitcase out of the trunk and rolls it toward the door, which slides open as we approach. I convince Karl that I can take the suitcase to the room myself, and he begrudgingly hands the suitcase over and returns to the car.

  I find myself in a massive lobby with marble floors and a huge fountain at its center. A bank of elevators stands at the far end of the lobby, and I make my way across and press the button to summon one, dodging the bellhop who is assisting another guest.

  Of course, even the interior of the elevators is beautiful. The bottoms are made of glass, and as it ascends smoothly, I watch the lobby fall away beneath my feet. Before I know it, I’ve reached the eleventh floor, and I step out onto a plush gray carpet.

  Room number 1120 is at the far end of the hall, and as I open the door, I gasp. It’s by far the biggest hotel room I’ve ever been in, and I can see three doors that might lead to other rooms. The room I’m in has a kitchenette with a refrigerator, a stove, and a microwave, and I can also see a big flat-screen TV and a couch that looks immensely comfortable.

  I want to take the time to explore the room, but it seems rude to keep Karl waiting, so I heave my suitcase onto the couch and take a moment in front of the full-length mirror to make sure I look decent. Nine hours on a plane have taken their toll, but my outfit isn’t wrinkled, and after running a comb through my hair and touching up my makeup, I feel presentable enough to meet my new employer.

  Karl is waiting for me downstairs, just as he said he would be.

  “How far away is the…manor?” I ask as we pull away from the hotel. It’s definitely going to take some getting used to, calling it that.

  “Outside the city limits,” Karl says. “The master’s very private when it comes to his daughter.”

  “That makes sense,” I say. “Most of my clients are the same way.”

  Finally, something familiar. Maybe this client, whoever he is, won’t be completely alien to me just because he’s wealthy. If he’s a parent who puts his daughter’s well-being above everything else, that’s something I’ve seen plenty of times before.

  About a mile outside the city, where the rolling hills are uninterrupted by buildings or people, we round a curve in the road and come suddenly upon a thick, wrought-iron gate. Karl reaches out the window and presses a button on an intercom, but to my surprise, he doesn’t speak into it. The gate just swings open to admit him. There must be a camera here, letting whoever’s in charge of this gate see who has arrived.

  We drive up a cobblestone driveway and into a semicircle driveway before a sprawling three-story stone house. I can see at once why it’s called a manor. The arches and columns are gorgeous, and it’s big enough to contain three or four of my parents’ suburban home.

  Karl stops the car. “You get out here, ma’am,” he says.

  “Aren’t you coming?” I ask. I’m nervous, suddenly. I don’t know where to go or what to expect.

  “I have to park,” Karl says. “Someone will be along for you. Ah, here she is now.”

  Sure enough, a plump woman in her mid-fifties is bustling down the front stairs and across the drive to the car. She opens the door and hold
s out a hand to me. Feeling strange, I take it and allow her to help me out.

  She nods her head to me in a gesture that isn’t quite a bow. “You are the tutor, yes?”

  “I’m Emma Clark,” I say.

  “Very good. I am Anne, the housekeeper. Please allow me to show you inside.” She places a hand behind me as if to guide me by the small of my back but stops short of actually touching me, while at the same time gesturing forward with her other hand. “The master is anxious to welcome you.”

  I nod, feeling overwhelmed. “All right. I’m eager to meet him too.”

  “Is this your first time in Luxembourg?”

  “It’s my first time outside of the States, actually.”

  Anne smiles. “Very exciting. I hope you will be very happy here.”

  She leads the way up the stairs and into the massive house, through a set of thick oak doors. Walking into the foyer, I feel dizzy. My hotel room is tiny compared to this place. The foyer is two stories tall and lined with columns on either side. Every step I take echoes off into some unfathomable distance.

  “This is unbelievable,” I whisper.

  Anne turns to face me, eyebrows lifted.

  “I’m sorry,” I say hastily. “It’s just that I had no idea I would be coming to such a magnificent house. It’s absolutely beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Anne nods. “The master is one of the wealthiest men in Luxembourg. You were not told?”

  “I wasn’t told anything,” I admit. “Just that he needed a tutor for his daughter, and that he wanted someone to come right away. I don’t know who he is or what he does for a living. Can you tell me more about him?”

  She looks uncomfortable. “That isn’t my place.”

  “I already know he owns the hotel downtown,” I say, hoping to ease her into the conversation. “Is that his primary source of income? Or is there something else? And what kind of man is he? Does he—”

  “Enough,” Anne says, shaking her head. “It is not appropriate for me to discuss these things. You will have your answers soon enough.” Seeing the undoubtedly terrified look on my face, her expression softens. “I know it can be intimidating to come to this house for the first time. You are not the first to be overwhelmed by it. Will you believe me if I promise you that things will be all right?”