“Someone can just lift the cabinet and cart it away.”
She kept a straight face, but her eyes gave away a slightly incredulous look, like I was being way too paranoid. “We can bolt it to the floor. Plus, I have a copy of the housekeeper’s driver’s license, her physical address, her passport… She’s not going to steal your stuff and run off.”
“All that stuff could be fake.”
She took a breath and slowly let it out. “Okay…if that’s the case, it sounds like it’s going to happen no matter what you do, so you may as well just do it.”
“Or I could not have a housecleaner at all.”
“Derek, a billionaire should have a housecleaner.”
“Why do you assume I’m a billionaire?” Did she look into me? Google me?
“Are you saying that you aren’t?” she countered. “Regardless of the exact number of zeros in your bank account, you need a housekeeper. It’s not just about keeping it clean and smelling good. It’s about keeping the place in good standing in case you ever want to sell it. Sometimes those rings around the toilet are permanent.”
“I’ll just get new toilets.”
“And put the others in a landfill when you could have just had them cleaned?”
I didn’t have an argument against that.
“You know how much bacteria must be living on the surfaces of this place since you don’t keep it clean? Think about your own health.”
I’d never considered that.
“I’ll put everything in the filing cabinet, bolt it to the floor, and all the other really important stuff can go in the safe.”
“I don’t know…”
“We can even keep the office locked so the housekeeper never goes in there.”
“But that would still require me to put everything away, and I’m too busy for that.”
“I can do it.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want you touching my stuff.”
Her eyes slowly narrowed on my face. “I promise you, I’m not interested in stealing your work. Frankly, I don’t even understand it.”
“You don’t need to understand it to sell it.”
“Well, I won’t sell it,” she snapped. “Put a camera in there, then. If you’re this disorganized, someone could steal something, and you would never know because your stuff is all over the place. If you don’t find it, you’ll assume you lost it.”
“My stuff may be all over the place, but I know exactly where it all is.”
“Even if that’s true, we should get you more organized. Derek, I could be of much greater service to you if you trusted me.”
“I don’t know you.”
“Alright, fair enough.” She started to tap her pen against her notebook as she chewed on the side of her cheek. “Why don’t you work in your office? That way, you don’t have to carry your things in there every day?”
I shook my head. “Dining table is closer to the kitchen.”
“Okay. Then how about you carry your things to the office on the way to your bedroom?”
I knew she wasn’t going to let this go, so I needed to cooperate in some way. “Fine.”
She wrote everything down in her notes. “I’ll get that filing cabinet, and I’ll have a locksmith put a lock on your office door. We’ll need to go through your work together so it can be correctly filed into the filing cabinet.”
That should be fun…
She took my silence as an agreement. “I tallied up everything I can do for you and the time it will save you. You want to know the number?”
I didn’t have any faith that this would happen, so I shrugged in response.
She turned her notebook around and showed the items with the amount of time she’d allotted to each task. “Five hours a day. Five.”
I wasn’t so convinced. “I’m not sure how you’re measuring this allocation of time.”
“Think about it. If you never have to make dinner, do your dishes, do your laundry, can work on the drive—”
“Work on the drive?”
“Yes. I thought you should have a personal driver—unless you get carsick.”
“I don’t need someone to drive me around.”
“Your commute to the university, with traffic, is thirty minutes from here. From the university to New Jersey—”
“How did you know I worked in New Jersey?”
“Because Cleo told me.” She leaned forward slightly, her arms moving over her notebook. “Derek, I’m not snooping or prying. I will need to know about your life in order to help you. You understand that, right?”
I felt like I was married or something. There was a woman who had suddenly become an intimate part of my life, and I hated it. This was why I told my mom I didn’t want an assistant. I didn’t want someone in my business every goddamn day. “I’m a private person, Emerson.”
“And I will never share the details of your life with anyone.”
“NDAs are only so effective…”
“Not because of that.” Her eyes narrowed, like she was offended by what I said. “Because I would never want to do that to you—to anyone.”