Page 41 of Wild Angel

Who the fuck leaves a baby unattended? If I find out who was supposed to be looking after Princess, and she—or he—is still alive, then they won’t be for much longer.

“Let’s poke around and see if there’s something for you to eat,” I tell Princess, cradling her in my arms as I head into the small kitchen.

There’s only cow’s milk in the bar fridge. That, and a burrito bowl covered with plastic wrap.

“Christ,” I mutter, bouncing Princess on my hip a few times. “Okay, we need to find you something to eat. Best place for that is the kitchen.”

Princess gurgles happily at me as I take her down the hallway and back into the villa’s main kitchen.

The place is eerily quiet today, and it suddenly hits me why that is. Bryan is apparently still recovering from his bullet wound and Sergio left a few days ago. Savage mentioned something about a trip, not that I was fucking asking. I guess with only me and Savage to take care of, the villa might be running on a skeleton staff.

It’s only ten, but there’s almost always someone in the kitchen—cleaning breakfast dishes, starting with lunch preparations, fixing someone a sandwich.

But not the last day or two.

Princess starts getting a little fussier as I move around, so I put her in one of the big sinks.

“Can’t risk you rolling off the counter and cracking open your head,” I tell her when she gives me a curious scowl over the edge of the sink.

I stare at her for a moment, eyes narrowed. “You on solids yet?”

I judge her to be anywhere between five and six months old. Before she got really sick, Mom told me stuff about babies. But it was a long time ago, and honestly I can’t remember if it was six months or nine months before they were supposed to be weaned off breast milk.

Princess widens her eyes, giggles, and then tries to eat her foot again. I move it away with my pinkie. “That’stoosolid. Trust me.”

I glance around the kitchen, and my eyes settle on the fruit bowl. “Easy way to find out.”

Grabbing a banana, I mash it in a saucer until it’s little more than a paste, then I add some water to the mixture to thin it out.

It looks fucking disgusting, smells delicious, and Princess promptly starts making banana bubbles with her spit when I try and shovel it in her mouth.

“No, dumb dumb. It goes down your gullet like milk,” I tell her.

She can’t seem to grasp the concept. Most of the banana ends up on the linen serviette I tucked over her baby grow. But I think she eats some of it, especially when she stares up at me with massive eyes and moves her mouth like she’s sucking on a mint.

When she starts trying to avoid the spoon, I stop trying to feed her. Either she’s fed up with banana, or she’s full. I never got the hang of reading minds, and I’m not about to start.

“Where do you want to go now? Maybe outside? Get some fresh air?”

I turn, intent on heading into the living area and out through the glass doors that open onto the patio—but Caesar motherfucking Savage Domingo is standing in my way.

“Christ!” I yelp, nearly dropping Princess. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“What is she doing here?” Savage stares down at the baby like he’s just remembered she was supposed to supplement his dogs’ kibble.

I’ve seen Savage’s dogs.

Thankfully at a distance, and with a fence between us.

You can’t play fetch with Savage’s dogs. I mean…you couldtry. But they’d disembowel you before the ball left your hand.

“Princess was hungry, because whoever was supposed to be looking after her pulled a fucking vanishing act.”

Savage frowns. “I’ll make sure they’re punished.”

“Christ, I didn’t say that!” I cradle Princess to my chest, trying to burp her, not really knowing if it’s necessary after the one banana molecule I managed to get into her tummy. “I just…I wasn’t going to leave her there.”

His frown deepens. “Why does she smell like bananas?”

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