Riven's Very Bad, No Good, Terrible Date Night
Character Key:
Riven (22): .The 22-year-old Head Enforcer, all muscle and menace, currently sweating over a baby monitor.
Juliet (Jules): Their 8-month-old sister, the tiny, drooling queen of the Fernandez empire.
Elijah (25): Big brother, Don, professional paranoiac.
So. This was it. Tonight was the night. Impress this girl Chloe—who, for the record, is literally an 11/10, and works at that bougie juice place downtown.
I'd been on the grind for weeks. Liked all her pics, commented the fire emoji on her stories, pretended to care about açai bowls, the whole simp playbook. Finally secured the invite. Her, her bestie Maya, and Maya's man.
Major. W.
And why was I on solo babysitting duty? Because Elijah is the most paranoid dude on the planet. We finally decided to hire a nanny. We found one. Background was cleaner than a surgically scrubbed floor.
Passed every check Leo could run, digital and otherwise. But no. Elijah had to do a "personal interview."
Which, for him, is a three-hour-long interrogation that probably involves a lie detector and a blood oath. So he's gone to Hong Kong, and I'm stuck with babysitting duty.
Thanks, bro.
The doorbell rang. Showtime ,baby.
I gave myself a once-over in the hall mirror. Black tee, tight. Jeans. No visible weapons. Looked like a normal, hot, definitely-not-a-dad guy. I took a breath and swung the door open.
Chloe stood there, looking criminally good. Behind her was her friend, Maya, and her polo-shirt boyfriend — Brad, Chad, Plaid, whatever.
"Riven," Chloe said, eyes sliding past me. "This is... bigger than I expected."
"Yeah, well. Family place." I stepped aside, my body doing a pathetic attempt to block the view of the baby-playpen behind me. Failed.
Chloe's eyes immediately locked onto the Jules 's toys. "Oh. My. God. You have a kid?"
The words hit me like a bullet to the chest. "What? No. Hell no," I sputtered, the denial way too loud and way too fast. "That's my sister. Jules. My brothers and I... we just have her tonight. It's NBD."
Brad/Chad smirked, putting a possessive arm around Maya. "Sure, man. 'Sister.' Heard that one before. Daddy daycare, huh?" He said it like it was a terminal disease.
My eye twitched. I wanted to introduce his face to the nearest marble countertop. But Chloe was watching.
"Something like that," I muttered, forcing a grin. "Who wants a drink?"
I was pouring whiskey—the good stuff, not the stuff we use to clean wounds—when it started. A soft coo from the baby monitor. Then a little fussy sound.
Everyone froze.
"The, uh, TV's on in the other room," I lied, my voice tighter than my jeans.
Chloe's smile was getting brittle. "Sounds... realistic."
Another sound. A full-on, ticked-off grizzle. Sh*t.
"Be right back," I muttered, abandoning the drinks and speed-walking to the nursery.
"Dude, not cool," I whispered. "We talked about this. You sleep. I get to maybe second base. It's a simple transaction."
I walked back out, thinking I could just hold her and play it cool. Nope. A cuddle wasn't cutting it. I had to bring the boss to the party. Big mistake.
The second Chloe got close, Jules's face scrunched up. She grabbed a handful her shiny hair and yanked. Hard.
I winced. "Jules, no! Let go, little menace." I started priing her tiny fingers open. This was it. The final nail in the coffin of my rizz. Game over.
But Chloe just laughed. "Oh, it's okay! She's just playing." She freed her hair and even patted Jules's head. "You're a fierce little thing."
My jaw almost hit the floor. Was... was she for real? She was being cool about it. Maybe I'd read this all wrong. Maybe she was a legit one.
"I'm gonna get us some more better drinks from upstairs," I announced, feeling the comeback. "The good stuff. Celebrate you surviving a baby attack.
Chloe smiled, all dazzling white teeth. "Perfect. We'll keep an eye on the little warrior."
I took the stairs two at a time, hope sparking in my chest. Okay, maybe I could still save this night. At the top of the steps, my eyes did a quick sweep of the hallway—an enforcer's habit. And that's when I saw it.
A thin line of gold glowed under the door to Elijah's study.
Huh. Cleaner must've left a light on.
Whatever. I'd deal with it later. Right now, mission: Impress Chloe was back on.
I was at the top of the stairs, about to head down with the expensive bottle of tequila, when I heard it.
Chloe's voice, low and venomous. Nothing like the sweet tone she'd used two minutes ago. This was a cold, sharp dagger.
"...absolute little baby witch. I swear to god. This is so disgusting."
I froze on the steps, my blood going cold.
Maya shushed her. "Chloe, he'll hear you."
"Please," Chloe scoffed. "He's so far up my a** he can probably see my tonsils. He's the ultimate simp. A Birkin for a bad dream type. A few months of pretending to think his gross little sister is 'sooo cute,' and I'll own this place. That Ferrari too." "
The word hit me like a slug to the chest.
Simp.
She thought I was a simp.
I saw red. Not like, metaphorically. The edges of my vision actually pulsed with it. My fist clenched so tight the bottle creaked in my grip.
The monster I keep on a leash, the one I only let out for business, snarled and snapped its chain.
Chloe was still talking. "..Then we can 'accidentally' lose the little beast at the park or something—"
I must've growled, because her words cut off.
She turned. Saw me. Her face did this crazy gymnastics routine from shock to fear to a sickly-sweet smile in half a second.
"Riven! Hey! We were just joking! I was saying how Jules is such a little firecracker, you know? A real handful!" She let out a fake, tinkling laugh that made my teeth ache.
I didn't say a word. I just stared. My face was a blank mask, but my eyes? I let her see it. Just a glimpse of the thing underneath. The thing that makes grown men cry for their mothers.
Her smile died. The color drained from her face.
"You," I said, my voice a low, dangerous growl I barely recognized, "are going to get out of my home. Right now."
"It was a joke!" she pleaded, real panic setting in.
"GET. OUT!" I roared.
The roar cracked like a gunshot. Not volume, but violence. It was the sound of a man who was one more word away from putting her in a coma.
They scrambled. Brad/Chad tripped over his own polo-starched legs. Maya dragged Chloe by the arm. The door slammed shut behind them.
The tequila shook in my hand. My whole body did. Not from rage, but from what almost happened.
I dumped the bottle, scooped Jules up, holding her tight against my chest, her head tucked under my chin. I could feel my heart hammering against her little body.
"I've got you," I whispered into her soft hair. "Always. I won't—ever—"
Then, a calm, familiar voice came from the doorway to the study.
"You passed."