Page 25 of Filthy Rich Single Daddies

"Who the fuck are you?" she demands, recovering quickly. Her eyes dart past me, trying to see into the house. "Where's Austin?"

I tighten my grip on the door, using my body to block her view. Behind me, Djinn lets out a low growl. "I'm afraid Mr. Rhodes isn't available right now. Is there something I can help you with?"

The woman's face contorts, a mix of fury and disbelief. "You're kidding me, right? Another one of his little playthings? God, you're barely out of high school!"

I roll my eyes. I’m twenty-five, thanks. I keep my voice level as I respond. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the property. If you have any concerns, I'd be happy to pass them along to Mr. Rhodes."

She seems to realize her game isn’t working and changes tactics.

Brielle narrows her eyes as she gives me a once-over. A smirk plays at the corners of her perfectly painted lips, and I brace myself for whatever she's about to throw my way.

"So, you're the new flavor of the month, huh?" she purrs, her voice dripping with venom. "Tell me, sweetheart, which one of them are you fucking?"

I feel my cheeks flush, but I refuse to let her see she's gotten under my skin. Instead, I let a slow, lazy smile spread across my face. "Oh honey," I drawl, channeling every ounce of sass I possess, "why limit myself? I'm fucking all of them. And let me tell you, they are unbelievably talented."

The shock on Brielle's face is priceless. Her jaw drops, and her complexion turns a vibrant shade of red that reminds me of the roses in Birdie's garden. For a moment, I almost feel bad for her. Almost.

"You little slut!" she shrieks, her composure completely shattered. "You think you can just waltz in here and take what's mine?"

I roll my eyes, my patience wearing thin. "Last time I checked, people aren't property, Brielle. And from what I understand, you gave up any claim to this family a long time ago."

Her face contorts with rage, and she launches into a new tirade of obscenities. I stand my ground, refusing to flinch as she hurls insult after insult at me. Inside, though, my heart is racing. What have I gotten myself into?

"You're nothing but a gold-digging whore!" Brielle screams, trying once again to push past me. "You think they care about you? They'll use you up and throw you away, just like they did to me!"

I plant my feet more firmly, using every ounce of strength to keep her at bay. "I'm not here for money or status, Brielle," I say, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. "I'm here to do a job, and right now, that job is keeping you out of this house."

She scoffs, lunging forward. Her manicured nails digging into my arm as she tries to pry me away from the door.

Pain shoots through my arm as her nails dig in, but I refuse to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, I meet her wild gaze with a calm, unyielding stare.

"Brielle, I suggest you take your hands off me," I say, my voice cold and sharp. "Now."

For a moment, she hesitates, her grip loosening just slightly. But then she seems to double down, her manic energy flaring again.

"You don't scare me," she hisses, her face so close to mine I can smell the faint hint of alcohol on her breath. "You have no idea who you're messing with."

I arch a brow, my lips curling into a smirk. "Neither do you."

Brielle’s face twists into a mask of rage, her grip tightening once more. Before she can launch into another tirade, I jerk my arm free, stepping back just enough to put some distance between us while keeping my hand firmly on the door to block her entry.

"You need to leave," I say firmly, my voice like steel. "This is private property, and you're trespassing."

Her laugh is sharp and bitter, cutting through the tension like a blade. "Trespassing?Trespassing?" she repeats, her voice rising to a near shriek. "This is my family!Myfamily! Who the hell do you think you are, playing gatekeeper like you belong here?"

I tilt my head, letting her words roll off me like water off a duck's back.

Brielle's eyes narrow, a calculated gleam replacing the wild fury. "Fine," she hisses, her voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "You want to play tough? I'll call the cops. You can't keep me from my son."

My heart skips a beat, but I force my face to remain impassive. I've dealt with manipulative parents before, but never quite like this. I take a deep breath, centering myself.

"Austin would have mentioned if you were due for a visit," I say, my tone clipped and professional. "He didn't. So, unless youhave court-approved visitation scheduled for today, you have no right to be here."

Brielle's nostrils flare, and for a moment, I think she might actually lunge at me. Instead, she reaches for her phone, her manicured nails clicking against the screen.

"You think you're so smart, don't you?" she snarls. "We'll see how smart you are when you're explaining to the police why you're keeping a mother from her child."

I feel a bead of sweat trickle down my spine, but I stand my ground. This woman is used to getting her way through intimidation, but I refuse to be another one of her victims.

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