Page 31 of Filthy Rich Single Daddies

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink. Instead, she sits up straighter, the movement so subtle it’s almost imperceptible, but I see it. It’s a challenge, one I recognize immediately.

"It turns out they didn’t have any homework and they requested another story," she replies smoothly, her gaze steady and unwavering. "Unlike some people, I find it difficult to deny them simple pleasures."

The barb stings, but I refuse to let it show. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest, the fabric of my tailored suit pulling tight across my shoulders. "And you always do exactly what the children want, is that it?"

Skylar's lips curve into a sardonic smile, and the sight sends another jolt through me. Damn her. "Oh, Austin," she purrs, "if I always did what others wanted, I wouldn't be here at all, would I?"

Her words linger in the air between us, charged and heavy. Another pang in my chest, sharper this time. I ignore it, focusing instead on the way her slender fingers toy with the edge of the book. Why does everything she does infuriate me so much?

"Uncle Austin," Elodie pipes up, her small face peering around Skylar's arm, her wide eyes hopeful. "Can Skylar stay for dinner? Please?"

I open my mouth to refuse, but Lucas jumps in before I can speak. "Yeah, please?" His grin is so earnest, so full of admiration, that it twists something inside me.

I force a smile, but it feels brittle on my face. "I’m sorry, bud, but it's time for Miss Deveraux to head home."

The words have barely left my lips when twin cries of protest erupt from the children, their voices high-pitched and pleading.

"No!" Lucas exclaims, his brown eyes wide with dismay. "C’mon, Dad! Please?"

Elodie chimes in, clutching Skylar’s arm like a lifeline. "Pretty please? We're almost done with the chapter!"

I look at Skylar, silently willing her to decline. To pack up her things and walk out that door. To come back tomorrow just as I’m leaving and vacate my sanctuary the moment I return home.

But there’s a glint in her eye that tells me she’s not going to make this easy for me. She tilts her head, studying me with an infuriatingly calm expression, as if daring me to put the children’s happiness second.

I harden my gaze, silently demanding she make an excuse and leave us in peace. Leave me in peace.

But she doesn’t. Of course she doesn’t.

I know she can read it. I know she’s aware that I don’t want her here, invading our space any more than she needs to be. But, I also know that she’s not going to give me what I want. She is, however, going to make the children very happy.

So, why doesn’t that make me happy?

"Well," she drawls, "I suppose I could stay. If it's not too much trouble, of course."

I struggle to maintain my composure, caught between the children's eager faces and my burning desire to see Skylar walk out the door. The tension in the room is palpable, and I can feel my carefully constructed control slipping away with each passing second.

Every glance from Lucas and Elodie tugs at the fraying threads of my resolve, their innocent excitement chipping away at the walls I've worked so hard to keep intact.

Just as I'm about to put my foot down and insist on Skylar's departure, Theo's voice cuts through the thick silence like a knife through butter, shattering the moment with his usual nonchalance.

"Come on, Austin," he says, sauntering into the room with that infuriatingly easy smile of his, hands stuffed casually in his pockets like he doesn’t have a care in the world. "Let the kids finish their story. And, of course, we would love to have Skylar stay for dinner, right?"

The muscles in my jaw tightens as I turn to glare at him. Of course, Theo would side with the children. Of course, he'd swoopin at the last second, playing the role of the laid-back uncle, and undermine my authority without a second thought. He always has to be the fun one, the favorite.

That’s never bothered me before. They need that, need his lighthearted happiness. So, why is it suddenly a problem?I’ll tell you why. Skylar Fucking Deveraux.

"I'm sure Miss Deveraux has other plans," I grit out, keeping my eyes locked on Skylar. She meets my gaze with that maddening smirk, the one that makes my blood boil and my pulse quicken in ways I refuse to acknowledge.

"Actually, my evening is wide open," she says smoothly, her tone light and full of challenge. "I'd be delighted to stay."

Her words hang in the air, a gauntlet thrown down between us. The kids' cheers erupt around me, a cacophony of excitement that only fuels the fire burning in my chest. I can feel control slipping further and further from my grasp, and it’s infuriating. She’s infuriating.

"Fine," I manage to say, the word bitter on my tongue, each syllable laced with frustration I can't fully conceal. "But just for dinner."

The kids erupt in cheers, and I feel my control slipping even further. Skylar's brash confidence, her ability to push my buttons with just a look or a word, it's all too much.

Lucas and Elodie leap to their feet, their laughter filling the room as they chatter excitedly about what Skylar’s presence might mean for the rest of the evening. Skylar, for her part, looks positively triumphant, her smirk deepening as though she’s just won some unspoken battle between us.

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