CHAPTER 1: THE NEW JOB

"So… did you get the job?" Maria whispered in her ear as she went past her toward her locker at the end of the room.

"Why are you whispering? Everyone knows I have been looking for a new job since mami's injury" Isabella Fernandes replied to her friend and colleague, Maria as they changed into their work uniform that morning. 

"I know. But I'd like to think I would be the first you would tell when you get a job, right?" 

"Of course. You don't even have to ask"

Isabella replied.

Isabella and Maria were the closest of the three girls who waited tables at Antonio's, a diner Isabella had been working at for two years now while she studied part-time.

A hip injury to Maria Fernandes, Isabella's mother meant now she needed an extra job or a better-paying one to support her mother and herself while her mother recuperates.

Which was why she took a day off work the previous day to attend an interview for the job of a housekeeper in Malibu. It was when she reached the location that she realized it was the home of popular playboy multimillionaire, Mark Matthews.

That was the piece of information she couldn't keep to herself any longer as she dashed to Maria's locker, grinning in excitement. "Maria, you wouldn't believe who was hiring at the interview I went for"

Maria, guessing some sweet gossip was incoming, closed her locker in excitement and faced her with eager eyes. "Tell me please" she squealed.

"It was Mark Matthews. He is the one hiring a live-in housekeeper"

"No way, are you serious?" Maria asked with a shocked look on her face.

"Yes, I swear it's his house, '' Isabella confirmed.

"Wow Izzy, wait did you say live-in housekeeper" Maria questioned with great emphasis on the live

"Yes, I too only found that out when I got there"

"What are you going to do now? Would you be able to do that? What about your mum?" Maria questioned, the concern evident on her face.

"I don't know yet. I would need to get the job first which I doubt because I was the least qualified. The other participants seem to have done this kind of job for years." Isabella admitted with a look of resignation.

"Aww, don't say that. What if you get it" her friend continued, obviously trying to cheer her up.

"If I do, I still don't know if I would take it"

"Well, if it was me, I know what I would do," Maria said.

"Take the job?" Isabella asked, knowing her answer.

"Take the job and in 6 months, y'all would call me Mrs Mark Matthews," Maria said teasingly. 

That was Maria, always the fun and most daring of the two of them. Like many young women in Los Angeles, she had come, lured by big dreams and flashing lights, and yet five years later was still waiting tables at a diner.

"I wish" Isabella finally replied wistfully. "But Elites like him wouldn't consider people like us."

Sighing heavily, Maria answered "Sadly, you are right. But at least a girl can dream right?"

Yes, a girl could dream, thought Isabella.

As she headed out of the locker room, Isabella's mind drifted to the previous morning, as she wondered if she stood any chance of getting the job. With the pay nearly four times her current wage, she would loathe to miss out.

The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows as she hurried down the wet pavement, waving down a taxi the morning of her interview.

Her car, a loyal companion until that morning, had betrayed her with a sputter, leaving her no choice but to wave a taxi.

Isabella's gaze shifted to the selfie camera she was using as a makeshift mirror, allowing her to scrutinize her reflection. 

Her oval-shaped face was framed by straight, jet-black hair, cascading to a fringe that elegantly brushed her shoulders. Thick, well-shaped eyebrows added a bold contrast to her expressive, round, bright eyes, which sparkled with a mix of excitement and introspection.

Her lips, full and inviting, were adorned with a splash of bold red lipstick, a subtle statement that accentuated her self-assured demeanor. A long, slender nose complemented the harmony of her facial features, and the absence of heavy makeup only enhanced her genuine and authentic charm.

Isabella's attire, a white cotton long-sleeved shirt paired with slim jeans, subtly accentuated her curves, drawing attention to her hips and shape. A brown trench coat, a treasured find from a garage sale, draped casually over her shoulders, adding a touch of effortless chic. A pair of ballet flat shoes adorned her feet as she subtly checked her appearance

A taxi, its tires splashing through puddles, finally screeched to a stop. Isabella hopped in, giving a quick address to one of the most opulent estates in Malibu. 

As the taxi wound its way through the affluent neighborhood, Isabella couldn't help but marvel at the grandeur surrounding her. The house where the interview was taking place stood on a hill, a sprawling mansion nestled amidst manicured gardens, which looked legendary in its exclusivity.

Pulling up to the wrought-iron gates, Isabella marveled at the sheer opulence that lay beyond. The intercom crackled to life, and she announced herself, a mix of nerves and anticipation coursing through her veins.

"Welcome, Isabella," a voice on the intercom replied, the gates swinging open with a creak.

The taxi dropped her off at the entrance, leaving her to navigate the cobblestone pathway that led to the mansion's imposing doors. As she approached, the intricate architecture of the mansion revealed itself, a testament to wealth and taste.

The door swung open, waiting for her was a lady. she stood there in tailored perfection, a stark contrast to the anticipation that filled the air. Her attire spoke volumes about her sophistication—a crisp, body-fitting suit in black, adorned with precise white stripes.

Her scrutinizing gaze met Isabella's, and an unspoken tension hung in the air.

"Ms. Fernandes, I presume?" She inquired, her tone carrying a hint of skepticism.

Isabella nodded, feeling a sudden sense of self-consciousness in the grandeur of the entrance hall. "Yes, that's me."

Her eyes lingered for a moment, a subtle assessment that left Isabella feeling exposed. "My name is Elizabeth, I will be conducting the interview. Please, follow me!" Elizabeth gestured, leading her through the mansion's ornate corridors.

With each step, Elizabeth moved with a practiced grace that hinted at a life of privilege and refinement. The fabric of her suit whispered as she approached, and the subtle clack of her heels against the polished floor echoed in the entryway. Her demeanor conveyed not just style but an air of wealth and connections that seemed to be woven into the very fabric of her being.

As they walked, Isabella couldn't help but steal glances at her surroundings. Priceless art adorned the walls, and the air was scented with the faint fragrance of luxury. The interview, she realized, would not just be about her qualifications but her ability to navigate the intricate dance of wealth.

Finally, they entered a tastefully appointed room where the interview would take place. Isabella took a seat, her gaze lingering on the elegant furnishings. Elizabeth assumed a position across the desk, a mask of formality settling over her features.

"Let's get straight to it, Ms. Fernandes,"

Elizabeth began, her tone businesslike. "You are aware that this is a live-in-housekeeper job, right?. You are the youngest person I have interviewed so far and lest I say, the least qualified"

Isabella had been unaware of the live-in part but it would do her no good to admit that to Elizabeth so she said yes.

"It says here you have never actually worked as a housekeeper"

"Yes," Isabella answered. "But I assisted my mom with her numerous housekeeping jobs over the years." All that did was lead to a sigh of resignation from the woman.

"I see," Elizabeth replied, unimpressed. "It says here you are currently studying at a community college. How do you intend to combine this with the job?" She asked with her eyebrows raised.

"I only attend evening classes," said Isabella. "I always work during the day while I go to classes in the evenings."

The questions that followed were precise and formal, leaving little room for the warmth Isabella was accustomed to. It was in the conversation that followed that Isabella had learnt who her potential boss was.

As the interview progressed, Isabella couldn't shake the absence of the elusive Mark Matthews. The rumors about his sudden disappearance from public life fueled the town's gossip mill, and she couldn't deny the flutter of curiosity in her chest. She hoped she might get a glimpse of him so she could tell Maria all about it the next day but she never saw him.

When the topic of her immigrant status arose, Isabella sensed a subtle shift in Elizabeth's demeanor. A brief flicker of wariness crossed her eyes, and Isabella knew she had become an unexpected variable in the equation.

The formalities concluded, and Elizabeth stood, her expression inscrutable. "We'll be in touch, Ms. Fernandes. You'll receive a call with our decision."

Isabella left the mansion with a mixture of relief and uncertainty and even now, nearly twenty-four hours later, she still clung to an uncertain hope.

The grandeur of Mark Matthews' estate had left an indelible mark, and she couldn't help but wonder if her aspirations for a better-paying job were slipping through her fingers. "It looks like you would be waiting tables awhile," she thought.

Her journey to this moment had been marked by a series of challenges. Maria Fernandes, her mother, had suffered a hip injury in a peculiar incident involving an overly enthusiastic dog in the upscale neighborhood of Beverly Hills. The dislocated hip had forced Maria into a period of recovery, leaving Isabella to navigate the complexities of work and education simultaneously.

She soon found Antonio in his usual place behind the counter where he handed her the flier for the days' special menu as she headed to the tables to meet the first customer of the day.

…....

Five days passed in a blur of anticipation and uncertainty after Isabella's interview at Mark Matthews' estate. Then one morning, the call came while she was about to begin her shift at the restaurant.

"Isabella, this is Elizabeth." The voice on the other end of the line cracked to life.

The unexpected call brought a flutter of nerves. "Yes, Elizabeth?" Isabella responded. Her voice was a mix of anticipation and trepidation.

A moment of suspense hung in the air before Elizabeth's words finally broke through,

"Congratulations, Ms. Fernandes. You got the job. Mark was impressed with your interview."

A surge of disbelief and gratitude washed over Isabella. She stammered out a heartfelt "Thank you" before the gravity of the situation fully sank in.

"You'll be required to start next week. Monday, to be precise," Elizabeth continued, her tone crisp and efficient.

Monday seemed too close, too sudden. Isabella hadn't allowed herself to entertain the possibility of getting the job, and now reality crashed over her like a wave.

"Oh, and one more thing," Elizabeth added, injecting a note of formality into her voice. "Before you start, we'll need you to sign a non-disclosure agreement."

The unexpected request hung in the air, a silent pause stretching between them. "An NDA?" Isabella echoed, surprise evident in her voice.

"Yes," Elizabeth affirmed. "It's a standard procedure for everyone who works closely with Mark. His personal life is strictly confidential, and he values discretion."

Isabella hesitated, her mind racing. The sudden turn of events had left her breathless. "I understand," she finally replied, a mix of curiosity and caution coloring her tone.

"Good. Be here on Monday at 9 a.m. to sign the paperwork and commence your duties," Elizabeth instructed before ending the call.

Isabella sat in stunned silence for a moment before the reality of the situation settled in.

She had landed a job she never thought possible, and with it came the weight of secrecy, a cloak she must willingly drape over her newfound position.

With a sense of purpose, Isabella dialed her mother's number. The phone rang a few times before Maria Fernandes, her voice warm but weary, answered.

"Mami, I got the job!" Isabella exclaimed, her excitement palpable. She then went ahead and explained the call she got from Elizabeth to her mother.

A hesitant joy colored Maria's voice. "Oh, mija, that's wonderful news! But what about the NDA? What does that mean?"

Isabella sighed, knowing this part would be harder to explain. "It's a non-disclosure agreement, Mami. It means I can't talk about anything I see or hear while working there. It's standard for high-profile jobs like this."

Maria's enthusiasm dampened, replaced by a mother's instinctive worry. "Isabella, are you sure about this? What if your Mark Matthews is one of those millionaires with dark secrets? What if you put yourself in danger?"

Isabella couldn't suppress a chuckle; her mother's overactive imagination was always at play. "Mami, you watch too many soap operas. I promise I'll be careful, and it's just a job. Nothing bad will happen."

Maria Fernandes, though skeptical, conceded with a reluctant nod. "Promise me, mija. Promise me you'll be cautious and let me know if anything feels wrong."

"I promise, Mami. I'll be careful," Isabella assured, her voice filled with sincerity.