Page 32 of Filthy Rich Single Daddies

It sends another jolt through me, a mixture of anger and something else I can't quite name. Something I'm not ready to examine too closely.

I turn on my heel and leave, the sound of their laughter following me down the hallway like a taunt. My fists clench at mysides, the muscles in my shoulders taut with tension. Everything about this woman gets under my skin. Her brash confidence, her infuriating ability to push my buttons with nothing more than a glance or a word.

The sound of Theo's laughter and the kids' excited chatter follows me down the hallway, each step fueling my anger.

When I reach my office, I slam the door shut behind me, the sound echoing in the stillness. My sanctuary, the one place in this house where I can think clearly, feels stifling tonight. I cross the room in quick, purposeful strides, yanking open the cabinet and pouring myself a stiff drink. The amber liquid burns its way down my throat, but the fiery sensation does nothing to dull the irritation simmering beneath my skin.

She’s chaos wrapped up in a deceptively pretty package, and the longer she’s here, the more obvious it becomes that she’s a threat to everything I’ve spent years building.

Everything about her irritates me. She’s brash, sassy, and always pushing back against me.

And Theo? Don’t even get me started. His easy camaraderie with Skylar, his unflappable charm—he doesn’t see what I see. He doesn’t understand the danger she represents, the way she disrupts the balance I’ve fought so hard to maintain. He claimed her. Fucking claimed her, and just expected us to fall in line.

But what really gets to me, what twists the knife even deeper, is the way Cohen looks at her. Like she’s some kind of puzzle he’s dying to solve. Or the way Theo talks to her so easily, drawing out her laughter like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

And Cohen’s comment about sharing? No. Hell fucking no.

What I need to do is find a permanent nanny. End this ridiculous charade so I never have to deal with her again.

So why does the idea of her leaving make me just as angry as having her here every day?

The sound of laughter pulls me out of my thoughts. The kids. I throw back the rest of my drink and loosen my tie, heading to my bedroom. The plush carpet muffles my footsteps as I enter. The expansive space, with its muted grays and blues, usually offers a sense of calm. Today, it feels stifling.

I loosen my tie further, the silk sliding through my fingers as I toss it onto the bed. "Get it together, Austin," I mutter, unbuttoning my shirt.

The suits are necessary for work, but when it’s just the kids and me, I like to keep it more relaxed. Things have been chaotic enough since the divorces—what they need is stability, calm.

The room feels oppressively quiet. Too many thoughts swirl in my head, each one tugging at my focus like a tide I can’t fight.

As I change into a soft Henley and dark jeans, I can't help but think about the kids. Lucas' shy smile, Elodie's infectious laugh. They've been through so much.

I lean against the dresser, studying my reflection in the mirror. The man staring back looks tired, the weight of responsibility etched in the lines around his eyes. "They deserve some peace," I whisper.

I run a hand down my face and try to settle my mood. I don’t like to be this…this controlling force of nature with the kids. Okay, I can do this. I can endure her presence for one dinner to make the kids happy.

Padding barefoot out of the bedroom, I hear Skylar's voice, warm and encouraging. "That's it, Lucas! Now, what do you think happens next in the story?"

I pause in the hallway, out of sight, and listen.

"Maybe...maybe the dragon isn't really mean?" Lucas suggests, his voice hesitant but hopeful. "What if he's just scared and lonely?"

"Oh, I like that!" Skylar exclaims. "What do you think, Elodie?"

"Yes!" Elodie chimes in. "And the princess can be his friend! They can have tea parties and fly through the clouds together!"

Their laughter mingles, a sound so pure it makes my chest ache. I lean against the wall, closing my eyes.

"Damn it," I whisper, the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut. As much as I hate to admit it, Skylar might be exactly what the kids need right now. They deserve calm, stability. And that seems to be exactly what she provides them.

I clench my fists, frustration boiling inside me. Why did it have to be her? Why did it have to be this infuriating woman who gets under my skin like no one else?

Taking a deep breath, I steel myself and step into the living room. The scene before me—Skylar curled up on the couch with Lucas and Elodie on either side, all three engrossed in a colorful storybook—sends another pang through my chest.

"Looks like you're having fun," I say, aiming for casual but hearing the strain in my voice.

Three pairs of eyes turn to me, and I brace myself for whatever comes next.

Chapter 11

---