Millionaire Needed Someone To Watch His Cat, The Woman Who Helped Soon Became His Everything
A Fateful Encounter
The flyer for a cat sitter caught her eye at exactly the wrong moment. Which meant, as fate would have it, exactly the right one. Tessa Parker had just been laid off from her job at the local art gallery. It was the third one to close in town this year.
She stood in the crowded coffee shop scanning the community bulletin board while waiting for her consolation latte. Then the handwritten note jumped out at her. “Urgent: experienced cat sitter needed for 3 weeks. Must love cats. Compensation extremely generous. Serious inquiries only.”
There was a phone number scrolled at the bottom but no name. Tessa hesitated. She wasn’t exactly a professional pet sitter, but she’d grown up with cats. She had watched her neighbor’s feline enough times. Extremely generous compensation sounded exactly like what she needed.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Tessa snapped a photo of the flyer with her phone. What did she have to lose? Her rent was due in two weeks and job prospects in the small coastal town of Bayfield were slim to none.
That evening, curled up on her secondhand couch in her tiny apartment, Tessa finally worked up the nerve to call the number. She half expected it to go to voicemail, but a deep, somewhat irritated voice answered on the third ring.
“Yes?”
The single word carried an air of impatience that made Tessa momentarily reconsider her decision.
“Hi, I’m calling about the cat-sitting position. The flyer at Harbor Coffee.”
There was a pause followed by what sounded like papers shuffling.
“Right. Can you come for an interview tomorrow? 9:00 a.m.”
“Um, sure. Where exactly?”
“I’ll text you the address. Your name?”
“Tessa. Tessa Parker.”
“Tomorrow then, Miss Parker.”
The line went dead before she could respond. Tessa stared at her phone. Whoever this guy was, his people skills left something to be desired. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and right now she was definitely begging.
The address she received via text led her to the north end of town the next morning. This was where the houses grew progressively larger and the ocean views more spectacular. Tessa’s ancient Honda Civic chugged up the winding road.
It looked increasingly out of place among the luxury vehicles that occasionally passed her. The GPS finally announced her arrival at a modern glass and steel structure perched on the cliffside. It was partially obscured by tall pines. Tessa double-checked the address.
She was convinced there had been a mistake. This wasn’t just a nice house. This was the kind of architectural marvel featured in design magazines. She parked her car in the circular driveway, suddenly conscious of her simple outfit: jeans and her nicest blouse.
This had seemed appropriate for a cat-sitting interview but now felt woefully inadequate. Taking a deep breath, she walked up to the imposing front door and pressed the doorbell. A tall man with dark hair opened the door almost immediately.
It was as if he’d been waiting. His expression was neutral as he assessed her. His intense gray eyes made Tessa feel like she was being scanned.
“Miss Parker?”
His voice confirmed he was the same man from the phone.
“Yes, that’s me. And you are?”
“Vincent Reinhardt. Come in.”
Vincent Reinhardt—the name sounded vaguely familiar, but Tessa couldn’t place it. She followed him into a stunning open-concept living area with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean. The space was immaculately decorated but had a distinctly unlived-in quality.
It was like a showroom rather than a home.
“Coffee?”
Vincent asked, gesturing toward a sleek espresso machine on the kitchen counter.
“No thank you, I’ve already had mine.”
He nodded and got straight to business.
“I need someone to care for Apollo while I’m away on business. Three weeks in Europe. The position requires you to stay here.”
Before Tessa could respond, something soft brushed against her ankles. Looking down, she saw an enormous Maine Coon cat with striking golden eyes staring up at her. Without thinking, she crouched down and offered her hand for the cat to sniff.
“Hello there,” she said softly. “You must be Apollo.”
The cat examined her fingers then butted his head against her hand, demanding pets. Tessa obliged, scratching behind his ears exactly where most cats preferred.
“He likes you,”
Vincent observed, sounding genuinely surprised.
“He’s usually wary of strangers.”
Tessa smiled.
“Cats and I have always understood each other.”
She continued petting Apollo, who had begun to purr loudly.
“What does caring for him involve exactly?”
“Feeding twice daily, fresh water, litter box maintenance. He needs his medication—heart condition—once in the morning with food. He enjoys being brushed, and he’ll let you know when he wants attention.”
As if on cue, Apollo flopped onto his back, exposing his fluffy belly. Tessa laughed but knew better than to fall for the classic trap. Instead, she gently scratched under his chin.
“What about experience?”
Vincent asked, watching their interaction carefully.
“I’ve had cats all my life until I moved into my current apartment that doesn’t allow pets. I’ve cat-sat for friends and family many times. I know how to administer medication and recognize signs of distress.”
Vincent nodded, seeming satisfied.
“The compensation is $10,000 for the three weeks.”
Tessa’s hand froze mid-pet.
“Excuse me?”
“Is that not sufficient?”
“No, I mean yes. I mean…”
Tessa stammered, trying to process the figure. That was more than she’d made in three months at the gallery.
“That’s extremely generous. I just wasn’t expecting that amount.”
Vincent shrugged.
“Apollo is particular about his care and this house has certain security requirements. The compensation reflects the responsibilities.”
He glanced at his watch.
“I have meetings the rest of the day. Do you have any questions before I make my decision?”
Tessa had a thousand questions, but she managed to ask about emergency contacts, Apollo’s routine, and home security. Vincent answered each question efficiently, revealing nothing personal in the process.
“When would you need me to start?”
“Tomorrow. I leave at 6:00 a.m.”
“That’s very soon.”
Vincent’s expression didn’t change.
“Hence the urgency of the flyer.”
Tessa weighed her options. Moving into a stranger’s home on such short notice seemed reckless. On the other hand, $10,000 would solve her immediate financial problems. It would give her time to find a new job without the pressure of imminent eviction.
Apollo made the decision for her by climbing into her lap and settling in, purring contentedly.
“It seems Apollo has voted,”
she said with a smile.
“I’ll do it.”
For the first time, Vincent’s stern expression softened slightly.
“Good. I’ll have my assistant prepare the paperwork.”
