Nicholas Davenport hated surprises.

He was a man who practised control in both his work and his private life, planning everything down to the last detail. It was how he had ensured his own success, building his company up from a small start-up to a multi-billion pound corporation. He lived and breathed control.

It was why the woman standing in the drawing room of his home was definitely a surprise – an unwelcome surprise.

Bright blue suitcases were sprawled around her feet while her hands toyed with the hem of her long sleeve t-shirt. Nick pressed his lips into a tight line and felt a frown forming between his brows as he took in the dirty blonde hair loosely knotted on top of her head and the worn bootleg jeans. Her eyes were riveted on the bookshelves which adorned each of the walls, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Her attention was captured so wholly the woman hadn't even noticed his entrance.

He could certainly understand the fascination, Nick thought as his eyes casually moved over the length of her petite form. There were over three thousand first editions lining the walls but he didn't think the woman's attention was truly on the literature.

And as he stared at the delicate figure before him, he didn't care much about the literature either.

In an instant, the head of the Davenport Empire felt off balance. Nick was no stranger to attraction. He had had many dalliances in his teens, had been well known for it. It had been all too easy. With his dark hair, powerful physique and wealth to match, women flocked to him. For years, there was rarely a magazine published without his picture on the front cover, some carefully selected woman clinging to his arm.

Nick shuddered. The women had served their purpose. He had used them and they had used him. The game had gotten old after a few years. There were only so many two dimensional relationships a man could suffer through before even they became cumbersome.

Yet even now Nick thought there was something truly beautiful about a woman when she thought no one was watching. It was the only time a woman was unguarded – no posturing or preening to get his attention. It was something which stirred the most primal part of his being.

Gritting his pearly whites together, Nick stepped fully into the room

"You are not Claire." He stated, taking a small amount of pleasure when the woman gasped and spun to face him.

Disaster struck only a moment later. In her haste to turn, the blonde's foot caught on the corner of one of the smaller suitcases. In the blink of an eye the petite woman was on the floor, peering up at him through her eye lashes. Her legs were hanging haphazardly over the top of her upturned suitcase whilst her hands were clutching desperately at the rug covered floor. Under his gaze, her alabaster white skin quickly turned an alarming shade of red.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my home?" Nick demanded, using his height to tower over her quaking form. "I do not take kindly to journalists invading my home all in the name of a headline. You have ten seconds to explain yourself before I call security."

"I-I." She spluttered, her hands scrabbling for purchase as she tried to pull herself upright.  "My sister."

Nick folded his arms across his chest making no attempt to help the woman out of her predicament.  When their gazes met, he raised his brows but kept silent.

"Claire is my sister." The blonde explained before dragging herself from the floor. "I'm Betsy. Sorry, I mean my name is Elizabeth Jones but everyone calls me Betsy."

The woman stepped close, too close for Nick's comfort, bringing with her the tantalising scent of vanilla. And then she was thrusting her hand at him, staring up at him expectantly with blue eyes so light they almost looked silver.

He stared down at her hand for several long seconds.

"And that qualifies you to be in my home?" he asked dryly, his eyes trained on the carefully painted sparkly pink varnish on her nails. "Qualifies you to run my house and look after my children?"

Betsy's face reddened as she stared up at the imposing figure before her. Never had she been made to feel so small, a difficult feat when she was little over five foot two.

Nick almost smiled at her bravado when she tilted her chin up and met his gaze stare for stare.

Dropping her hand back down to her side uselessly, Betsy offered a grim smile.  "No it does not. However my sister has been taken ill and will not be capable of work for several weeks."  She gulped loudly, her eyes shimmering with the barest hint of tears.  "She didn't want to let you down, Mr Davenport. I agreed to fill in. "

They stood silence.

Betsy's heart was pounding against her ribs as she stared up into the cold hard face of one of the richest men in Britain. At least that was what google had told her. Though google wasn't wholly accurate because none of those photos had told her this man was so far from human he could have passed for a robot. Only disdain had slipped through his mask during their entire thirty second acquaintance.

And this was the man who held her future in his hands.

Though she had agreed to do this job to help her sister, as she stared up into his cold and unforgiving face, Betsy acknowledged she needed the job for her own sake. 

"That was kind of you to offer but I am afraid that I simply cannot allow you to stay." Nick replied monotonously, his stare unflinching. "Every member of my staff is meticulously screened before the start of their employment. Your sister was no different. I will not make an exception for you." 

He inspected her with his dark brooding gaze. If she knew the thoughts running through his head, he was sure she would flee as fast as her legs could carry her. Not that Nick would ever voice them. His thoughts were for him alone; they were not his bed warmers and certainly not for strangers.

He shooed her away with his hand. "I will call my driver around and he will take you back to wherever you came from."

Lurching forwards, Betsy's tiny hands clutched on to his arms. Panic struck fast. Inside her stomach was in knots and her heart beat rapidly; it was as if it trying to force its way out of her chest.

"No, please let me stay." She begged. Desperation wasn't pretty on anyone but as Jones' woman, Betsy couldn't find it within her heart to care. "Please, I need this job. My sister needs this job."

Dark eyes glared down at her hands.

Cheeks burning hot, Betsy uncurled her fingers from his expensive suit one finger at a time. She couldn't help but wince at the creases left behind on the black fabric. She held her hands in front of her in a gesture of peace but making no move out of his personal space.

Gritting his teeth together, Nick tried not to be affected by the way her eyes were shimmering or the way her lip started to tremble. The one thing he hated more than surprises was a woman crying. His daughter had already learned to twist him around her little finger like a pro with a few tears and a wobbly bottom lip.

Nick kept his face void of any emotion as he stared down at the delicate figure before him.  She was beautiful even with her face scrunched up in an attempt to hold the tears at bay. And that was dangerous – too dangerous.

"Miss Jones, I understand your predicament however I just -."

Nick's phone chimed loudly within his pocket.  Feeling somewhere between frustration and relief, he calmly slipped the handset from his pocket.  When the little blonde opened her mouth to speak again, he held a single finger out to the emotional woman before putting the handset to his ear.

He fought back a smile at the way the petite woman scrunched up her face in irritation. He was surprised she hadn't given in and stomped her foot on the floor. Her leg was twitching to do it too.

Nick pressed his lips together, taking in a deep breath to steady himself before he could find his voice.

"Nick speaking." He answered,

Relief was short lived as the words filtering through the handset were processed by his overtaxed brain. His assistant was the shining star in his firm. She was always calm in a crisis and yet right now she was one screech away from blowing his eardrums. If she was panicking, there was nothing happy about this call. His assistant's voice was getting shriller as the seconds passed yet only three words registered in his mind – merger falling though. 

Nick had been working for months with Markos Giannopoulos to make this deal happen. Months of meetings, working late and missing time with his children would all be for nothing if it fell through now. And then there was the money. At least twenty million pounds of his own money was dangling by a tenuous thread. His fingers tightened around the handset.

For several long seconds, Nick stood unmoving as he fought to find solutions to all of his problems.

"Calm down Tina." he spoke softly into his phone whilst staring down at the petite blonde before him. "I'll be with you shortly and we can get this straightened out. I just need to deal with a little situation here. Get the file ready and arranging a meeting with Markos for this afternoon."

Clicking off without another word, Nick slipped his phone back into his pocket. His face, he was sure, appeared calm and unemotional to his audience but inside he was in turmoil.  All of his carefully laid plans were falling apart. It made his hands clammy and his head throb. Nick hated the sensations – it was a sign of weakness.

He examined the woman before him.

"I am going to give you a chance here Elizabeth. Don't thank me for it."  He barked when the woman opened her mouth.

Betsy snapped her mouth closed so quickly her teeth clacked together. Her eyes were training firmly on his, blinking rapidly to clear the tears which had started to form. Nick winced but continued to meet her stare.

"I have little option here. I have urgent business matters to attend to and as a result I am in need of your services. As a result, you can have a temporary role in my household. This can be terminated at a moment's notice by either party. The Salary will be the same I offered to your sister. I will draw up a full employment contract for you to review later."

Turning on his heel, Nick quickly strode from the room calling over his shoulder. "Follow me, Ms Jones. We have no time to waste."

With a stupefied expression on her face, the small blonde stared at her retreating back in bewilderment. Betsy didn't know whether to laugh or cry. One second the man was turning her away from the job and the next he was telling her she could stay. She seriously wanted to kiss this Tina and thank her for distracting the man.

"Miss Jones!"

With a yelp, she hurried after her new boss as he strode purposely through his home. Her legs had to move twice as fast as his to keep pace due to the difference in height.  There was at least a foot difference in their height which no amount of speed walking could account for.

The imposing man glanced at her out of the corner of his eye but made no attempt to adjust his pace. If the slight twitch to his lips was anything to go by, Mr Davenport enjoyed watching her chase after him. As quick as it was there, the expression was gone from his face and she was once more looking at the blank canvas.

Counting the twist and turns, Betsy tried to keep track of their path through the humongous country estate. If she were to make it work, she would need to know her way around and fast but as the zig zagged through another set of corridors Betsy admitted defeat.

Instead she decided to enjoy the view, taking in her surroundings with fascination.

Everything was tastefully decorated, modern yet homely.  Thick carpets cushioned her footfalls and artwork adorned several walls she had passed. Yet, if the messy handprints and the childish scrawl on the bottom of the canvases were an indicator, the artists were his children rather than Van Gogh or Monet.

Betsy bit her lip as snuck a glance at her new boss through her lashes. Nicholas Davenport was more complex than she could ever have imagined. Intimidating businessman and devoted family man? Somehow the two sides just didn't seem to fit together. 

"I will introduce you to the children now and then Ms Reed will explain your duties to you." He said, his deep voice breaking into the silence.

Nick paused suddenly in his stride causing Betsy, who had been only two feet behind him, to freeze with her nose just millimetres from her employer's back. He turned his head and glanced over his shoulder so he could meet her gaze. Due to the difference in height, the man was literally looking down at his nose at her.

Betsy jutted out her chin and stood as tall as she could under the intensity of his stare. He nodded his head before looking away.

"You will quickly learn that I am not a forgiving man Miss Jones. You have one week to prove yourself to me. This will be your only chance."

"You won't regret this, Mr Davenport."

He was quiet for a moment and when he finally answered, Betsy felt the words all the way down to her soul. "Be sure that I don't."

With that, Nicholas stepped to the side and allowed her to enter the room before him.

Gulping loudly, Betsy took a steadying breath before taking a step forward. And she entered into chaos.

Betsy closed her eyes and then opened them again. She wasn't hallucinating. It was real.

The kitchen was beautiful – what she could see of it at least. Flour coated the marble countertops, egg shells crunched underfoot and batter covered every available surface. A quick glance upwards revealed batter on the ceiling too.

And in the middle of it all sat two little children. They were giggling as they rubbed flour and egg into each other's hair.

Nick stepped into the kitchen behind Betsy, his body so close to hers she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. Absently she rubbed her hands up and down her arms to get rid of the goosebumps which had appeared.

"What has been going on in here kids?" Nick asked firmly, his voice taking on a slight rumble.

Nick's eyes surveyed the mess with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Minutes were all it had taken.  He had been gone just minutes. Finally his attention came to rest on the two children before him.

Immediately the children yelped, hands still stuck in each other's hair as they turned to face their father.

Betsy was speechless. She wanted to laugh at the expressions which appeared on those cherubic faces but at the same time she was in terrified. How could two small people create such a mess?

"We making cakes, Daddy," the oldest child replied, showing him her mixing bowl and spoon with pride. White powder clung to her cheeks and eye lashes but her clothes were surprisingly clean.

"Is that so?"

"Yes Daddy. And I let Tommy help me stir." She said proudly while her younger brother continued rubbing egg into her hair.

"That's nice of you poppet but where is Ms Reed? She was supposed to be keeping watch over you."

Here the little girl ducked her head, an admission of guilt. Her eyes kept darting to the door on the other side of the kitchen.

Betsy, without being asked, crossed the kitchen. With each step, bits of shell crunched as they were crushed underfoot. 

Sparing a quick glance over her should at the two children Betsy approached the door with caution. Two sets of messy hand prints were visible on the lower half of the door.  It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out who they belonged to. Eyes wide, she tried to turn the handle but the door wouldn't release. Planting both feet against the floor, Betsy used all of her body weight as she tugged on the handle.

With a groan the door swung outwards. An old woman fell through the doorway and straight into Betsy's waiting arms. Stumbling in her attempt to remain upright, the older woman grasped on to Betsy's arm in a surprisingly tight grip.

White haired with age rather than flour, the woman panted to catch her breath. She took a few moments to recover before she started to release her hold. And then she caught sight of the kitchen.

"Oh dear," she whispered.

Betsy winced as the claw-like grasp tightened around her shoulder once more.

"Indeed."

Ms Reed gasped, her free hand fluttered to her chest while her wrinkled face paled.

"I'm sorry Nicholas, I went to get some ingredients from the larder and the door closed behind me," she said in a fluster. "I was sure I had propped the door open before I went in. The handle has been causing me grief this week."

"I suspect two little monkeys are the source of this mischief." Nick stated, shooting a look at his two children who were standing side by side, the picture of innocence as they beamed up at the adults. With a shake of his head, he turned back to the white haired woman. "I have to get to the office. If you could help Miss Jones get settled in and the kids bathed?"

"Of course, Nick."

"Thank you. I will see you tonight." He turned on his heel and knelt down before his two children, uncaring about the mess on his clothes. He held out his arms and within moments he hand both of his messy little helpers wrapped up in his arms. "We'll talk about this when I get home."

Both children smacked wet kisses onto his cheeks and hugged Nick tightly. His chest ached and for a second he wavered. This was home, this was his family. Yet duty called.

Besides, Nick thought as he glanced over at his new Housekeeper, the only way to test the staff was to throw her right in at the deep end.