Mr. Rochester rifles through the pages. “I confess I didn’t look this over very carefully before you were hired. I read the references you sent. The one by your social worker. Very nice. The one by your current boss at the store. Excellent. A couple families where you did occasional babysitting. Everything seemed stellar, and the agency itself came highly recommended, so I considered it enough. Why would I need to know your entire life story?”

“You don’t.”

He gives me a half smile. “It’s interesting reading, I’ve come to find out. The straight A student. You never had a problem with turning in your work. Even when your father died, you kept on getting straight As. Valedictorian of your middle school and high school.”

“Everyone grieves differently.”

“That’s true. Paige Rochester attempts to freeze to death.”

His scornful tone makes a knot form in my chest. “And how do you grieve, Mr. Rochester? By acting like an asshole to your niece? It was your brother, after all.”

“And my sister-in-law. Don’t forget her.”

I stand up. “If you’re going to be disrespectful to the deceased—”

“Sit down, Ms. Mendoza.”

“They were your family. She is your family. They deserve better than to be—”

“I said, sit down.” He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t have to. I sit down. “You know nothing about my family. A few days with a rebellious child doesn’t give you a decade’s worth of secrets and lies.”

“I don’t need to know your secrets or your lies. I already know that little girl is hurting, and you aren’t helping her nearly enough.”

“Agreed.”

I open my mouth to continue my tirade before realizing what he’s said. “You agree?”

“Yes. I’ve known that I was too distant. Too abrupt. Too much of an asshole, to use your terminology. I thought getting a nanny would help, and the truth is, it has. You brought her down from that tree a lot quicker and painlessly than I would have.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

He continues paging through the manila folder. Apparently admitting you’re an asshole doesn’t make you actually stop the behavior.

Sure, I signed papers agreeing to every kind of background check imaginable. I did a blood draw and peed in a cup for the Bassett Agency, but he wasn’t interested in those things before hiring me. He’s only curious now because he wants to humiliate me.

And the worst part is, it’s working. It’s a cold churn in my stomach.

“It says here that you work at a diner. And a grocery store.” His gaze challenges me, dares me to tell him it’s none of his damn business.