Significance

by Shelly Crane

  I stuffed my cell phone back into my over-spilling handbag and glared at the man's hooded eyes in the rear-view mirror. "I'm paying you to take me all the way up there." I pointed up the winding country lane.

  The driver shrugged. "I'm 'fraid I can't, lass. 'Tis too dark now and I don't want to be here at this time of day."

  I cringed at his Scottish accent. I didn't understand half of what he said. "It's only seven."

  He shrugged. "'Tis all dark."

  "What's the deal? Do cab drivers turn into pumpkins once it's dusk? You should've told me at the airport."

  The driver averted his gaze. "Ye're paying me for driving, not answering questions."

  Grabbing my handbag I opened the door. No point in arguing with him because it seemed like a lost cause already. A chilly wind ruffled my hair and turned my skin into goose bumps. This was freezing Scotland. Why hadn't I thought of wearing a coat instead of locking it up with all the other stuff? "Oh, for crying out loud." I knocked on the driver's window and waited for him to roll it down. "Are you helping with the luggage or what?" He just stared back at me and shrugged. "What is it then, yes or no?" He turned away, his eyes scanning the forest around us as if he expected someone with an axe to jump out any minute.

  "I don't believe this," I mumbled, opening the car boot and pulling out my suitcase, a big, ugly thing my brother Dallas gave me as a graduation gift. The thick plastic carcass was already heavy as hell. With my clothes and books in there, I could barely lift it. I hurled it up and let it fall to the ground with a loud thud, almost hitting my booted feet. This wasn't my day.

  Slamming the door shut, I grabbed the suitcase when the driver rolled down his window. "Ye paying now?"

  "I don't know what kind of taxi rip off you're pulling, but your company sucks." I opened my handbag and pulled out my wallet.

  "That'd be thirty," he said, unfazed.

  "You said it'd cost me twenty."

  He shook his head. "It's thirty."

  Frowning, I retrieved three banknotes. No point in arguing. The sooner I got going, the better. I was already late, and what sort of first impression is that? "You won't be getting any tip from me," I said, handing him the money.

  "Good luck, lass. Ye'll need it."

  "How far from here is it?"

  "Ten minutes tops," he said with a sympathetic smile. Unfortunately, his concern didn't stretch out as far as not dumping me in the middle of nowhere with no map, GPS system, compass, or working phone.

  I watched the cab turn and speed off in the direction we came from. Dragging my heavy suitcase behind me, I trudged up the narrow street. It was getting dark now. To both sides, tall trees filtered the light cast by the rising moon. No houses as far as I could see. No street lamp. Why the hell did I agree to arrive in the evening? What person in their right mind arranged for a summer temp to find this place at night anyway?

  Sighing, I quickened my pace; the sound of the suitcase rollers echoing through the eerie silence of the night. Several times I stumbled over stones and almost fell, but I kept walking up the hill. The wind grew colder by the minute. I switched arms. No way would I return to the airport. This job was my only chance to save up enough money for college. Without it, I'd swap marketing classes for lessons in how to prepare the perfect cheeseburger at the local McDonald's.

  Ten minutes later, I nearly bumped into what looked like a gate. I peered through the iron bars into the stretching darkness, and frowned. Could this be the McAllister mansion? I hoped so because my toes felt numb from the cold and my arms were on fire. How much longer could I carry this heavy thing Dallas called a suitcase?

  Blindly, I moved from one iron bar to the next, pushing to find an entrance. On the third try I heard a click and the gate opened. I grabbed my suitcase and pushed my way through quickly. Like on cue, the gate closed behind me. Someone was probably watching behind a security system screen, laughing their pants off at the way I had to drag my luggage like a dead elephant. I raised my chin a notch, straightened my shoulders and trekked up the jagged path, my heels clicking noisily on the cobblestones.

  The trees grew sparser, the path wider. Sensing someone's presence, I stopped, frozen to the spot. My heart skipped a beat. I turned, ready to scream as loud as my lungs would allow.

  "You must be Amber," a girl said.

  I exhaled. "You scared the hell out of me. I didn't hear you. Where did you come from?"

  The girl moved a step closer and lifted my suitcase in one go, as though it weighed nothing. "The woods," she said. "Let's hurry. He's expecting you."

  I gaped after her in awe. The way she ambled away, my suitcase tucked under her arm, she should be on the front cover of Weightlifter Magazine. If hiking in the woods gave one that kind of strength, then I was all for it. I'd hike until I dropped...starting tomorrow. Or maybe the next day, or the one after that. Truth be told, I wasn't into hiking in the woods at all. Or hiking anywhere, as a matter of fact. Who was I fooling? I was doomed with chubby arms and stumpy legs.

  We walked up the cobbled path until we reached a huge, gloomy mansion stretching against the black canvas of the night.

  "How did you get here?" the girl asked, opening a door.

  "Your splendid taxi service. I've no complaints at all." I shook my head. "The cabbie wouldn't come anywhere near the house."

  "Yeah, the locals are scared of their own shadows. You should've called. Someone would've picked you up."

  "I did, but no one answered." I followed her in, my hands patting the walls to find my way in the darkness. My foot caught in something thick and soft—maybe a rug—and I toppled forward, biting my tongue to keep back a startled yelp. Why wouldn't someone just switch on the lights?

  "Mind your steps," the girl said.

  "It's okay. I'll just use my bat radar," I mumbled.

  The girl made a noise that sounded like a chuckle. Eventually the lights flickered on and I squinted against the sudden brightness. I blinked several times before I peered in her direction: she was about the same age, tall, blonde and strikingly beautiful with flawless pale skin and ocean-blue eyes that shone a tad too bright. Skinny jeans emphasized her shapely legs and narrow waist. A thin top revealed strong arms and shoulders. Dressed in that skimpy outfit I would've frozen to death in the woods.

  I turned away from her, focusing my attention on the interior design. We were standing in a wide hall with a tiled floor, a thick scarlet rug and sparse furniture. It looked like any doctor's reception area minus the desk, sitting opportunities and white-clad nurses.

  "I'm Clare. You must be Amber," the girl said, smiling. Her voice was as smooth as silk, young but not too high-pitched. The tone was posh. The usual rich kid, I mused, the kind of girl everyone admired and envied.

  "Nice to meet you, Clare," I said, curling my lips into a smile.

  Clare turned toward a closed mahogany door and craned her neck. "Aidan might take a little longer. I'll show you to your room."

  I frowned. "Aidan?"

  Clare cocked a brow. "As in Aidan McAllister. He's dying to meet you."

  "Ah. My new boss. Of course. Is he your father?"

  Clare shot me an incredulous look. What was she waiting for? Was I supposed to say something? I wasn't making a good first impression here, was I? I should've researched my new boss on the internet, or follow him on Twitter to find out how he liked his bed sheets ironed and what he usually ate for breakfast. After all, this would be my job for the next two months. But I had been too busy missing my ex while letting Dallas fill out my application form.

  "Aidan's a friend," Clare said, eventually. "Come on."

  A friend could mean anything, but I didn't press the issue. There'd be enough time for that later. We climbed up the broad stairs to the first floor. Clare opened a door and let me in. She switched on the light and took a step aside. "Welcome to your new home."

  I stopped, scanning my new bedroom. It was spacious, the exact opposite of my former matchbox boarding school room in London. Thic
k plum-colored curtains covered half of the opposite wall. To my right was a huge, four-poster bed with numerous cushions in the same color as the curtains. The bed was so large it'd never fit into my former bedroom. If this was the Scottish standard I had a feeling I'd get used to it in a heartbeat.

  "I gather you like it?" Clare said, her voice betraying amusement.

  I cleared my throat. Like it? Was she kidding? It was breath taking. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

  Clare beamed as though I'd just complimented her on her fashion sense. "I'll let you unpack then and shall bring up your dinner in half an hour. Of course you can eat in the dining room, but I assume you're tired and may want some privacy before your first day of work."

  "Yes, that'd be great. Thanks."

  "Excellent. The TV remote control is on the night table. The bathroom's in there." Clare pointed at a door on the other side of the room. "If you need anything, I'm in the library, which is on the ground floor, the second door to the right. You can look around the house if you like, but the second floor is off-limits."

  Once Clare closed the door behind her, I walked to the bed and pulled the heavy bedspread aside. The sheet beneath was of a perfect white. I opened my suitcase and threw my clothes haphazardly into the closet near the window, leaving my books and various memorabilia in my suitcase. Neatness wasn't my strongest point, but what my new boss didn't know couldn't hurt him. From all the competition, funny that I should be the lucky one to land such a well-paid job. Whatever Dallas wrote on that application form, I could only hope he hadn't pretended I was a domestic goddess. That might just mean the end of my placement, and I really needed the money.

  I walked into the bathroom and reached for the light switch. The bulb flickered to life, revealing walls covered in white tiles with tiny, dark blue flowers. I peeked into the mirror above the washbasin and grimaced at my mousy brown hair that lacked a good cut, my chubby cheeks and big hazel eyes. Many called me pretty, but I knew I would never have that extra something that would make a guy fall in love with me. Cameron hadn't, or so he said before making it clear he wanted a break.

  Enough dark thoughts already. Pushing my mental baggage to the back of my mind, I sighed and opened a cabinet. A toothbrush, shower gel, lavender soap and moisturizing lotion occupied the upper shelf. In another cabinet I found white towels and a bathrobe. I stripped off my jeans, red jumper and underwear, and jumped under the shower. The hot water relaxed my aching muscles and washed away the invisible signs of a long day. Wrapped in a towel, I walked back to the bedroom, and sank into the clean scent of recently washed sheets, falling asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

  A thud woke me up in the middle of the night. Disoriented, I looked around in the soft light cast by the lamp I had forgotten to switch off. My head felt groggy as I threw a glance at my phone on the bedside table. It was shortly before three a.m. Everything seemed quiet, and yet I couldn't shake off the feeling that something or someone was in the room, watching me. For a moment I thought I glimpsed pale blue eyes staring at me from the door. I spun around, heart jumping in my throat. No one there. No picture frames on the wall to hide a spy hole either. Shivering, I walked to the window and peeked through the curtains. The moon hid behind thick rain clouds. The room had noticeably cooled down.

  I returned to my bed, pulling the sheets tighter around my shivering body, when I heard a thud outside my bedroom door. It was an old house and the rain and wind would make the wood creak, the living shapes of furniture simulating the threat of approaching danger, so nothing to worry there. Holding my breath, I listened for more sounds. The house was silent again. My bones felt stiff and tired, but any signs of sleepiness were gone. I slipped into my bathrobe, hesitating in front of the door. Should I really leave the comforting safety of my room and risk waking up my new employer? He might fire me for disturbing his beauty sleep.

  Oh, sod it.

  If I didn't check, I'd morph into an obsessive lunatic for the rest of the night. I crept to the door and opened it in one go, cringing at the squeaking sound of old hinges. The light from the lamp threw dark shadows on the thick rug covering the wooden floor. Mentally preparing myself to face whatever loomed in the shadows, I stepped into the cool corridor.

  The hall was empty.

  A Job From Hell by Jaden Scott is available through print and Kindle with Amazon and many other e-book avenues.

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  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1