Marc Nassar

"Hey, Kristina, I'm home!" I shout out over the sound of vacuuming before dropping my keys on the foyer table.

Seconds later Kristina comes bounding out of the living room. "Hola, Mr. Nassar!"

The vacuum stops and Leigh, my house cleaner and Kristina's daughter, emerges from the next room waving. "Hi, Mr. Nassar! Welcome home! I won't be too long in this room."

"No worries, Leigh. I'm heading upstairs." She nods in response and retreats back to her duties before I turn back to Kristina. "Are the girls here?" I ask.

"Yes, but it's nap time. Heidi will wake them up in one hour."

"Ahh, so I probably shouldn't wake them up to say hi?"

She shakes her head. "You may do as you wish, Sir, but they just now fell asleep."

"After taking hours to put them to bed?"

"Exactly. Thank you for not waking them," she says before smiling.

I chuckle. "Alright, can you get me when they wake up? I'll be in my office."

I need their hugs and kisses after the busy morning I've had. Today was one of those days where everything just went wrong. A new judge is pressing me for everything under the sun, and the DEA is breathing down my neck about one of my clients. I don't even remember the last time I came home early from work but I figured it'd be more comfortable to finish up at my home office and see the girls even if it's just for a little bit.

Kristina nods. "Of course. I'll be in the dining room interviewing the new cook, but will mention it to Heidi."

"That's right! I forgot that's happening today. What time do they get here?"

"Well, I saw on the monitor she's already here." Kristina glances at her phone. "But she might be having trouble at the gate. She came up to it a couple of minutes ago but hasn't moved. She hasn't even pressed the call box."

"Alright, well, I'll let you go out and handle it. Thanks. Let me know if I'm needed."

"Of course. Thank you."

We part ways. Kristina heads out the door while I head up the carpeted stairs to my office.

I hope whoever this new cook is will mesh well with the rest of the staff and the girls. The last cook quit given how challenging it is to feed my daughters. Nina and Laila went to a birthday party last year and all hell broke loose when they tasted sugar for the first time. Now they are addicted like it's cocaine and they'd rather go on a hunger strike with martyrdom type flags, war paint, and pitchforks, than eat food that doesn't make their teeth hurt.

As I head up the wrap-around stairs, I glance out of the large paned window and catch sight of Kristina walking across the front lawn toward a blue car at the front gate. I freeze.

Where have I seen that car?

The answer hits me like a brick to the stomach.

What the...?

My skin tingles with discomfort as I quickly grab my phone and fumble around to pull up the security feed from the front gate. The video appears and my stomach tightens when I see her again. The beautiful woman who stuck herself to my mind all day yesterday. The camera is angled from the side of the gate, so I have a direct view of her in her car.

Did she follow me here?

I try to take in everything that's happening. Her lips are moving and...is she in pain? She's moving her head from the steering wheel to the headrest with a grimace. My stomach pulses and I briefly glance up, looking through the glass of the window beside me. Kristina is walking through the side door of the gate.

I raise the volume on my phone as the girl tracks Kristina walking toward her car. She smiles and rolls the window down.

"Hola, Miss! Is everything okay?" Kristina's voice filters through my phone.

"Hi!" The young woman responds in a cheery voice that seems forced based on how she looked a couple of seconds ago. "Yes! Yes, everything is okay! So sorry, I um, I uhh, was just wondering if I'm at the right place."

"What's your name?"

"Celeste Peters," the woman responds.

"Celeste," I whisper into the air, tasting how the name feels on my tongue. Slightly salty with a bit of bite.

"Ahh, yes. Welcome, Ms. Peters. You're at the right place. I'm Kristina. Let me open the gate for you and you can park in front of the house."

Celeste's eyes grow wide but she still maintains her smile. "Thanks so much!" She starts waving. Her smile falters and morphs into a look of horror when Kristina leaves her.

My heart starts beating harder than a judge with a gavel. This woman randomly bumped into my car yesterday and today is conveniently showing up at my home? What is her end game here?

"Leigh!" I shout out as I run down the stairs to the living room.

"Yes, Mr. Nassar." Her eyebrows are up as she steps down from a ladder.

"Can you please dust the new cook's room again to make sure it's up to specs? Your mom will be coming in there and asking about the, uhh, the, the thing. And you can just let her know it's been taken care of."

A valley forms between her brows, but she quickly hides her rightfully confused expression. "Of course, Mr. Nassar. Right away." She grabs her duster from her pack of cleaning supplies and moves past me.

The thing? I've saved people from a lifetime of prison with my words alone and now I'm saying phrases like 'the thing'?

I move swiftly to the front door and take a deep breath before opening it. Kristina is walking back up the lawn, while Celeste is driving up slowly around the bend. As Kristina approaches, she gives me the same expression Leigh just gave me. "Everything okay, Mr. Nassar?"

"Yes, everything's fine! I do need help with something urgent though. I think there's something broken in the cook's room. Leigh went there but can you ask her what's going on? I asked her to see if everything's alright, but it would be great if you can check for yourself."

She's about to interject, probably about the interview, but I continue before she can get a word in. "Don't worry about the candidate. I can usher her in, and start the interview while you check on things."

Kristina scrunches her nose, probably picking up on the load of shit I just spewed out of my mouth. "Are you sure? I can have her come with me to check so you don't bother yourself."

"No, it's fine. I don't mind."

She makes a face and then nods. "Okay, Mr. Nassar. I won't be too long."

"Thanks!"

"Her name is Celeste. Her resume is on the kitchen counter."

"You're the best. Thanks!"

She starts walking toward the side of the house with eyebrows still squished together and mutters something in Spanish.

I've never done anything like this before - involve myself in the affairs of the house besides asking for updates. It will probably be the main topic of gossip amongst the staff tonight. But I don't care about that right now. I cannot have a stalker coming into my home. I need to find out what is going on before anything gets out of hand. I grab my phone and text a past client, Melissa, who works for the CIA now.

Marc: Hey, Mel. Can you do me a huge favor? Can you look someone up for me? Her name is Celeste Peters.

She texts back right away.

Mel: Hey handsome! It's been awhile. I'll take a look and let you know what I find. 

I respond with a quick thanks to Mel as the familiar, bright blue car moves up slowly and stops behind my car. I'm standing behind the entrance's pillar so Celeste can't see me. The sound of the car door shutting and footsteps crunching against the gravel hit my ears.

I step out to meet her, forcing a smile to my face. "Hello again."

She jumps back and throws a hand to her chest. "Holy shit."

"What are you doing here?" I ask curtly.

As she rubs at her chest, I drop my gaze down briefly and I'm reminded of her pierced nipples. My gait toward her stutters.

Shit. I choose this moment to think about that again?

Clearing her throat, she stands up straighter and adjusts her slightly oversized olive green jacket. "I'm here for an interview."

"No, you're not." I stand in front of her with arms crossed. Up close, she's even more beautiful than I remember. Her eyebrows are thick and fill her angular face well, like artistic strokes on a canvas. Her round cheekbones are highlighted by a light smattering of freckles across them. The dark blue in her irises are like a stormy ocean that threatens to drown me in the middle of the night.

"Sorry, I know this is weird and a bizarre coincidence," she says while shifting on her feet. "I swear I didn't know you live here. But I do need to do this interview or else my sister-in-law will kill me." She sighs before continuing. "You don't have to hire me. Just let me do the interview."

What? "Are you stalking me?"

"What? No! I didn't know you live here!" She throws her arms in the air, revealing a sliver of skin on her abdomen, before she crosses them. "I came up to the gate and freaked out when I saw you stepping out of your car. And I almost left but I couldn't because my sister-in-law will never let me see my nephew again if I don't do this interview!"

Every time she says something, a thousand more questions come to mind. Talking to her is like venturing into that Poppins lady's bag in that movie my girls forced me to watch last weekend - a bottomless pit of randomness. "What?" is all I manage to let out.

"She reads me better than her smutty romance novels, so I can't lie to her either!"

I shake my head, trying to make sense of it. "How can I believe what you're saying is true? What evidence do you have to convince me?"

She shrugs. "Evidence? I don't know what else to tell you. I feel like I've been more honest with you than with a lot of other strangers I come across." Her voice softens, with a hint of resignation.

My chest constricts. She reminds me of a lot of my clients when they're at their wits end. Something tugs at me, telling me she's being truthful. But I ignore it. "Do you often offer to show your tits to strangers?"

Rolling her eyes, she uncrosses her arms and throws them in the air again. "No! Like I shared with you yesterday, I didn't have anything else to offer. And like you can clearly see today, I'm in need of a job," she bites out. The softness is gone, replaced by something more venomous and more thrilling.

"Do you often use that tone with people you could potentially work for?"

She laughs, cutting the thick tension in the air with a knife. "Honestly, yes."

The side of my lips quirks up while I study her. She could be a stalker, but then why would she have left yesterday after hitting my car and then say I don't have to hire her now? In my experience, stalkers usually carry a strong sense of entitlement and can be socially unaware. Plus, they don't usually look like...her. She's like the fantasy woman a man would hope to be stalked by. They'd leave the door open for her to walk right in and do whatever she wanted to them.

Okay, so she may not be a stalker, but this feels way too convenient to be wholly innocent.

Then again, when have I ever cared about innocence?

"So can I do the interview, or what?" she asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

The sassy tone sends a little thrill of heat inside of me - something I haven't felt in a really long time. "Tell me something, Celeste." I emphasize her name and her brows shift up slightly. "How did you expect to pass the interview if you lied on your resume? Kristina calls references, you know?"

Her eyes grow wide and a hint of pink drapes over her cheeks. "Shit, you remember I said that?"

I nod and let my smile unfurl. This is quite comical at this point.

"Well, do you want an honest answer?"

"Yes. Always. Always honest."

She sighs and runs a hand through her hair. Her black hair picks up hints of blue under the sunlight overhead. "My sister-in-law Louisa and I made fake business websites when we were drunk one night last year. We get a few calls a week asking about reservations. We've kept it up since it makes us feel like we own a business. Who knows, maybe one day I'll own a brunch place called 'Morning Wood' with phallic shaped foods."

A guffaw escapes me, and she joins in laughing.

"Everything okay?" Kristina's voice startles me and I jump to face her, probably looking like a teenager who got caught sneaking his girlfriend in. Shit. I did not hear any footsteps approaching.

"Oh, yeah, hey, Kristina. I was just asking some questions to start, but we can go inside to, um, to..." My mind blanks. What the fuck am I saying?

"The interview!" Celeste says with cheeriness in her voice. "Thank you so much, Mr. um..." she trails off while looking at me, silently questioning my name.

"Marc with a C."

"Marc." When she says my name with her slight rasp, thoughts I should not be having spring to mind before she continues. "With a C. I appreciate all those nice things you were saying to me about my work ethic and overall professional demeanor. I'd be happy to finish the conversation with Kristina."

Her words pull the sides of my lips upwards. I turn to Kristina. "I'll sit in on the interview, if you don't mind, Kristina?"

Kristina eyes me for a moment as if I'm freaking her out, and honestly, I don't blame her. "Of course, Mr. Nassar. Celeste, please follow me," she finally says before turning to the front door.

Celeste follows behind her and I take a deep breath and follow after them. What has gotten into me? I can't hire this woman. I need to get back to work.

But I am too invested now and need to see how she plays this one out. Plus, Kristina is the best judge of character I know. I have to see what she thinks of her.

With the tingling across my skin, I wonder...why does it feel like I'm making a terrible decision letting this woman into my home?