Skylar's Pov
"And you came here expecting that, seriously?" He looks utterly traumatized, his face pale like he's just seen a ghost and that ghost was me.
"Actually, I changed my mind once I got here and saw the place...this is just crazy," I shoot back. The whole situation is insane, and I'm not the one who made it this way.
"I umm..." he stammers, but he's immediately cut off by another sharp baby scream from deeper inside the house, followed by the little girl's voice yelling, "Daddy!"
"Just come in, let's talk," he says, lifting Cassian up and propping the wriggling boy against his hip like a sack of potatoes. "And try not to touch anything," he adds, his voice tight with a mix of stress and warning.
I roll my eyes so hard it's a miracle they stay in my head. I follow him inside, and my feet stop on their own as I'm greeted by a grand, luxurious foyer. It's all high ceilings and sparkling chandeliers, with golden accents on the banisters and mirrors that I can swear are real gold. It's the kind of money that feels old and heavy.
The baby's cries don't stop; they just get louder and more frantic. Rhys rushes into another room, setting Cassian down in an equally massive living room filled with expensive-looking white furniture that seems like a very bad idea with small kids. Daisy is back again, her little body hovering near the doorway, staring at me as I cautiously take a seat on the edge of the couch.
She's not staring at me with the desperate, hungry eyes the kids in my apartment building use, the ones that are always hoping for a snack or a dollar. This is something much deeper, a pure and unnerving curiosity.
Once I'm settled, she walks right up to me without a hint of fear. "Hi... I'm Daisy," she announces, her voice clear and confident.
"I'm umm....Skylar," I reply, feeling strangely off-balance.
"Are you the new mommy?" she asks, tilting her head.
My throat goes dry at the way she says it, so simple and direct. "Was there an old one?" I ask, my own voice a little rough.
"Not really but Uncle MacPherson told Daddy to get a new mummy while he's gone," she explains, as if discussing the weather.
Great, I almost forgot what a great asset a talkative kid can be. They would always spill anything to keep a conversation going, even without getting a treat for it. It's pure, unfiltered intel.
"And where is your daddy going to?" I ask, keeping my tone light. I note how Cassian has heroically managed to slither down from the vintage couch and is now army-crawling towards the hallway.
"To work," Rhys answers sharply, walking back into the living room with the crying, chubby baby hoisted in his arms as he skitters towards the kitchen. "Cassian, I can see you!" he yells, his voice more tired than angry, causing Cassian to freeze and retreat from his escape attempt.
Once he's disappeared into the kitchen with the baby, the cries somehow intensify, and I can hear Rhys cursing under his breath, a low, frustrated stream of words.
"What is going on in there?" I mutter, more to myself than anyone.
"Lou is just hungry," Daisy informs me cheerfully.
"Hungry?" I ask.
"Yes, Daddy feeds him whenever he's crying," she explains.
"Like, all the time?" My eyes go wide as the girl nods with a bright smile, like it's the most obvious and natural thing in the world to do. I quickly get up and head towards the kitchen, my heels clicking a rapid rhythm on the floor.
"What are you doing in here?" he hisses the second I cross the threshold. He's trying to mix a bottle of formula with one hand while the baby screams in the crook of his arm.
"And what are you doing to that innocent kid?" I fire back.
He takes a step towards me, trying to ward me off. "I've got it, okay? He just needs to eat. Just wait for me in the living room."
An unmistakable, pungent stench hits me right then, and my heart almost falters seeing how red and scrunched up Lou's face has gotten. He's going to swell up in pain at this rate if that diaper isn't changed.
"Just give him to me," I roll my eyes, reaching for the baby.
"Why? You're not suddenly a babysitter, are you?" he snaps, pulling Lou closer.
"I never said I was," I counter.
"Then why do you want him now?"
"Just get me fresh diapers and wipes. Now."
"Oh, so now you're the expert? He's just hungry. I'll feed him and then clean him, as always," he insists, his voice rising with frustration.
"Just give the baby to me!" I scream, my voice cutting through the infant's wails.
"Look, you've made him even angrier. Just leave, please," he pleads, looking genuinely panicked.
I ignore him and turn to the doorway where Daisy is watching with wide eyes. "Daisy, get me wipes and diapers, please!"
"On it!" she yells, her little legs dashing out of the kitchen.
"Seriously, Daisy? Don't listen to her!" Rhys calls after her, but it's too late.
"Just trust me, old man," I say, turning back to him.
"I'm not old," he retorts, looking offended.
"Fine then," I roll my eyes as I carefully but firmly take Lou from his arms. The baby keeps crying at the unfamiliar contact, so I start hushing him with soft, nonsense words, the way I've seen the tired women in my apartment building do. I'd been a nanny for a hot minute about three years ago, right before my first real crime. I never really came to terms with that job, but maybe I could use that rusty skill set now.
Slowly, I take him back to the living room with Rhys following possessively behind me, a dark cloud of anxiety. Daisy hands me the wipes and a diaper with a triumphant smile. I lay Lou on a clean blanket on the couch and get to work. I unbutton his onesie, and the situation is confirmed. Daisy gags dramatically as I take off the old diaper.
A small, satisfied smile curls on my lips as I finish cleaning him up, securing the new diaper and wiping the dried, failed milk-feeding experiments from his face and neck. After he's fresh, I lift him back onto my chest, rub his back in gentle circles, and his sobs slowly, miraculously, die down into shaky little breaths.
"She just made him stop crying without feeding him, Daddy," Daisy announces, her voice full of awe.
"Yeah.." Rhys lets out a long, defeated sigh. "I saw that."
I give him a stare that says 'I told you so' as clearly as if I'd shouted it. He frowns and sinks onto the couch next to me, the fight gone out of him. "How did you know he wasn't hungry?" he asks, his voice quieter now.
"His diaper was full, for starters. And you can't just keep feeding a kid every single time he cries, do you want to kill the boy?" I ask, not bothering to soften my words.
"I didn't intend that," he says, rubbing his hand over his face. He looks exhausted. I notice now, for the first time, that there's no wedding ring on his finger. And now that I'm looking, I see there are no wedding photos in the house either, just a few framed pictures of him and the kids. "It just works most of the time, okay?" His voice calls me back to the present.
"Sure," I sigh, adjusting Lou on my lap. I support him with my arm to help him sit up. He's a handsome baby, there's no denying it. He looks like another version of Rhys, but with startling green eyes, possibly the only gift from his mother.
"Well, apparently I'm stuck with you currently," Rhys says, breaking the silence. "I'll pay the same price. Would you babysit them for today?"
I look at him, a slow grin spreading across my face. "Well," I say, mimicking his accent just a little, "That isn't in my original scope of work, so you'll have to give me extra."
"Are you that obsessed with money?" he asks, sounding genuinely curious and a little disgusted.
"Umm...yes? I wouldn't be here if I wasn't," I state, because it's the simple truth.
"How much extra?" he asks, bracing himself.
"Probably ten thousand?" I throw out the number, expecting a fight.
He just stares at me for a second, then shrugs. "You've got yourself a deal."
I gasp, my cool facade cracking for a second. "What are you? Some British drug lord?"
He sighs and rises to his feet, his expression closing off. "More than that, but don't get too curious. The curious ones get bitten first."