Dimitri POV

I had to double-check the address written on my note—it matched.

When I was contacted about a job, I expected somewhere run down, maybe in the warehouse district. Instead, it was the rich part of the city, upper-class families and large estates. The house was at least three stories high with a tall iron fence on all sides.

I wasn't even sure how the employer got my number, receiving a call the night before from a man who was straight to the point that work was available for me with high pay. Work was hard to find with my limited skillset, so I couldn't turn it down. Not without finding out more first.

I pushed the button on the intercom, noting the security cameras surrounding the building.

"Do you have an appointment?" a female voice called through the box.

"I'm Dimitri Belikov. I was told to come to this address." I didn't even know the name of the person hiring. If I wasn't so desperate, I wouldn't be here. I hated going into a situation blind.

"Come in," the voice replied, followed by the sound of the gate unlocking.

The brick building was old but well-maintained, and the meticulous landscaping led up the paved walkway to the large double doors. Everything reinforced that it was the home of a wealthy owner.

The door opened before I could knock, and a tall man with a serious expression waved me in. "Belikov," he confirmed, then continued after I nodded, "I'm Pavel; I spoke to you last night. Mr Mazur will meet you in his office." Pavel took off down the hall, and I was quick to follow.

I was surprised by the modern interior, everything with a slick and smooth finish. Though it was such a large house, there was no sign of anyone else; there weren't even family photos or anything that gave an idea to the people who lived there.

Pavel led me to another set of double doors, opened one side, and gestured me in. "Mr Mazur, he's here."

I was ushered in, standing before a large dark wood desk. The man who called me there sat in a leather chair with his arms crossed and a glass of scotch in hand. The older man lifted his eyes to me and reminded me of the piercing stares Babushka gave.

"Ahh, Mr Belikov, thank you for coming on such short notice. I've heard a lot of good things about you," Mr Mazur greeted, placing his cup down and straightening up in his seat. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions."

I felt off balance; clearly, he knew me somehow, but I didn't know him. "Thank you for considering me. Can I ask for more information about the job?"

"Of course," he nodded his head to the chair beside me and then retrieved a file with a photo attached to the front. "This is my daughter, Rose."

I took the file and sat down, studying the image of the beautiful brunette—her curled hair brushed over one shoulder and a smirk that looked like she was up to something. Opening the file, I found information on her, background details, a timetable, and a medical history. I kept my expression blank as I skimmed the pages.

"As you can see, she's had some…issues," he started, lips pressed together before he continued, "Rose has been through a lot in the past four years, and she is still struggling to move past it. I don't wish to be controlling, but I'm worried about her safety, and that is why I've asked you to come here today."

I eyed the timetable of therapist appointments and then looked over the medical history. Barely surviving a car crash at fifteen, admittance to the psych ward at seventeen, and then another to the hospital four months later for a suicide attempt. His daughter had lived a hard life.

I licked my lips, choosing my words carefully, "Is she a danger to herself?"

"No," he shook his head, "she has a habit of getting into bad situations, and I would rather not have any more happen."

I could tell there was more information that he was concealing. "What would my job entail exactly?" I was desperate for work but didn't feel best suited for babysitting a teenager.

"You would stay with her when she leaves the house, accompany her to her appointments and be available during set hours if needed. It would be a full-time job, and I would require you to live here."

"Here?" I repeat with raised eyebrows.

"We have separate living quarters at the back of the house that you would have to yourself, and you are free to do as you wish on your off time." Mr Mazur waved it off as if requiring me to move in was a simple task. He seemed to notice my doubt, "You will be paid substantially, and I will take care of any expenses for you to move."

He took a piece of paper and pen, scribbled on it and then folded it in half. "I believe this is a fair price," he offered, handing the paper to me.

I took it and glanced at the number. I swallowed thickly, forcing the shock from my face before I glanced back at him. The knowing look on his face told me he knew the power of money.

Usually, I wouldn't be easily swayed by a number, but that amount could easily solve a lot of issues for my family. Sonya was pregnant, and Karolina was struggling to pay for school for her two. I could buy my mother a new car and pay for Viktoria to go to university.

There was so much good I could do for them.

However, the amount he offered made me wary of the job.

"That's very generous," I replied, folding the piece of paper again and slipping it into my pocket.

"I won't deceive you, Mr Belikov, this won't be an easy job. But from what I was told of you, I believe you would be the best fit."

My curiosity got the better of me. "May I ask who recommended me?"

Mr Mazur gave me a sad smile. "I had the pleasure of knowing Ivan, he told me about you and gave me your number in case I ever needed your services."

My chest constricted painfully, the last six months unable to heal the ache that returned whenever I was reminded of Ivan. My best friend lost his life much too soon. I cleared my throat, "I see."

A moment of silence passed before he spoke again, "So what do you say?"

I was still reeling from the salary offer and the knowledge that Ivan was my recommendation. It made me strongly consider it, if he believed I was the right person for it then maybe it was worth taking.

Finally, I held my hand out to Mr Mazur, "I'll take it."

He grinned and clasped my hand in his, "Wonderful. I will have Pavel get you the contract to sign and then I'll show you around." The smile on his face suddenly dropped, tightening his hold on my hand. "There is one other thing I need to inform you of before you start."

xXx

Rose POV

My head ached; a pounding I knew would only get worse unless I drank more. I threw my hand out blindly searching for the bottle I must have dropped after I passed out. Gripping the neck with my fingers, I lifted it into view and peered at it through half-closed eyes. There were only a couple of mouthfuls left, but it would do.

I swallowed what was left and then dropped the bottle back to the ground, wincing at the thump it made on the carpet.

It was still blissfully silent, with no endless chatter or the buzzing I felt when I did try to shut out the ghosts. Everything in the room spun and I felt a slight churning in my stomach, but it was worth it for the quiet.

I felt the closest to being normal when drunk. I'm sure Deirdre would have a field day with that one.

With a struggle and a slight chuckle, I stood up from my bed. I needed food, not enough to sober me, but just so I wasn't likely to throw up for the next two hours. I didn't need anything that might lead to me being taken to the hospital. There were too many ghosts there, and unless I was doped up, I wouldn't be able to block them all out.

I was still in the clothes from the day before, my hair stuck out in all directions from sleeping with it down, but none of it mattered. Abe would be at work, and most of the people who worked in the house avoided me like I was the plague.

The last maid who tried to befriend me ended up calling me a witch after I told her her sister's last wishes.

There was a point after I accepted that I could see ghosts that I would boldly tell people and try to fulfil the ghost's requests. All that got me was concerned looks and abandonment issues. I never bothered to tell Abe about the woman in an Edwardian dress in the library or the old man who always yelled in Turkish in his office.

There were more in the basement, but I never went down there.

Some would stay around because they had unfinished business, others because they didn't accept the fact they were dead. And then there were the ones who knew there was nothing good waiting for them on the other side, so they remained here.

I had to grip the railing on the stairs, my body sluggish as I made my way down to the first floor. Noises were coming from the main room, so I was sure to avoid it as I dashed—stumbled—to the kitchen. The blinds were open, and I squinted at the light, glancing at the clock to discover it was almost midday.

Abe must be back for lunch if he was in the main room. It just meant I had to be quick with grabbing food.

I had a collection of snacks in my arms when my name was suddenly called.

"Rose, good; I was wondering when you would get up," my father called cheerfully.

I didn't want to face him. He would be able to guess I was drunk, and then I would have to sit through another lecture. It was risky, but I tried to dash back to the stairs. I made it three steps before I smacked into a solid form—felt like a wall.

I yelped, my snacks fell to the ground, and I was about to follow them when a hand gripped my arm and yanked me back to my feet. My head snapped up, and I found myself face-to-face with an actual giant.

I broke from his grip with a snarl, "Watch where you're going!" I didn't know the guy, and that made me nervous. I dropped to my knees and picked up my food.

"You ran into me," the man pointed out, then crouched beside me. He passed me my bag of chips, and I snatched it from him.

"I apologise for her mood. She's unfortunately always like this," Abe claimed with an irritated look aimed at me when I glanced at him. "Rose, this is Dimitri Belikov."

I climbed back to my feet, leaning on the wall for support. Dimitri eyed me, giving me a once-over; he kept his expression guarded but had a look in his eyes that wasn't impressed.

"It's nice to meet you, Rose." His voice was deep and laced with an accent.

I pursed my lips, "Always nice to meet the new foreign labour. Can I go now?"

Abe made a sound in exasperation. "Dimitri here will be your bodyguard. From now on, if you leave the house, he will accompany you."

I almost choked on air. "Are you fucking kidding me!" I shouted, "I don't need a babysitter, old man!" I turned and faced Abe; my anger took over, and my current state of drunkenness made my emotions stronger and more volatile.

My father studied me; his eyes narrowed, "Are you drunk?"

"What's it to you?"

Abe's nostrils flared. "I am sorry this is the state you get to meet her," he began, attention on Dimitri, "It seems your first job is making sure that Rose doesn't leave the house, and then I request that you ensure she doesn't purchase any more alcohol."

I rolled my eyes at him. Abe didn't understand that I needed the respite. No one understood.

"Hope you enjoy watching a crazy person," I growled, then pushed past them. "Quit while you still can!"

I raced up the stairs, only fumbling once on the steps; I slammed the door when I reached my room and quickly locked it so Pavel didn't have a chance to do another room search for hidden bottles. I threw the food onto my bed with a huff, kicking at the mattress in anger.

I didn't need someone to follow me around and think I was crazy all day. I sure as fuck didn't need another set of eyes judging me every time I did something they thought was concerning. I didn't need to feel even more like I didn't belong.

I grabbed the remote for my stereo off my side table and turned it on, turning the volume up until it was defending. No one could hear me screaming my anger out.