Page 17 of Single Mom's Daddies
Victor stiffens. “Absolutely not.”
“We can vet her,” Roman says.
“That’s another pair of eyes in the house. Another mouth. Another risk.”
“I’m not saying bring in a stranger off the street.”
“Any outsider is a risk,” Victor snaps.
“Not if we choose the right one,” I say.
They both look at me.
I shrug. “We get someone too old to give a damn. Someone with no reason to dig. Someone practical.”
Victor’s expression doesn’t soften. “Or someone who leaks everything they see for a payout.”
“Not if we scare her straight.”
Roman looks thoughtful. “We’d have to be careful.”
“Obviously,” I say. “But the kids are already learning too much, too fast. If Olenna won’t budge, we need someone to buffer them from the rest of this.”
Victor leans back, arms crossed. “Still think it’s a mistake.”
“Fine,” I say. “Let’s call it a calculated risk.”
That gets a grunt. A knock interrupts us. Lolita steps in, balancing a tray of refilled drinks and a look that says she’s heardeverything. She’s in black slacks and a white button-down, dark red lipstick perfect, hair swept into a bun that looks effortless, but I’m sure took loads of effort.
She sets the tray down, eyes flicking between us. “You boys need a nanny?”
Roman goes still.
Victor narrows his eyes. “What did you hear?”
“Just the part where you’re all slowly losing your minds because your kids are smarter than you. Hard not to hear it when you’re shouting, boys.”
I tilt my head. “You got someone in mind?”
Lolita crosses her arms and rests one hip against the wall. “Saffron Chase. Smart. Patient. Single mom. Works full-time at a pediatric office. Loves kids. Tough as hell. My best friend for over ten years.”
Victor scowls. “That’s nice. You left out the part where she has no idea who we are.”
“Does it matter? She needs to take care of your kids and mind her business. Which, for the record, she’sverygood at.” Lolita sighs. “Besides, everyone knows who you are. The tattoos are a dead giveaway.”
Roman speaks now, voice low. “And how do you know she can handleourkids?”
Lolita smirks. “You think your little monsters are worse than an eight-year-old or the sick kids in the peds office? Saffron doesn’trattle. She’s been through worse than whatever Mila and Alex can throw at her.”
That quiets us.
Victor still doesn’t look convinced. “Single moms come with complications.”
“She’s not looking for a boyfriend,” Lolita snaps. “She’s looking for a better job so she can take care of her daughter. And before you ask—no, she’s not a gossip. She doesn’t talk about her patients. She’s a private person. She barely talks about herself.”
“What about her background?” Roman asks.
“She’s clean. No record. Not even a parking ticket. Grew up local, close to her grandfather after her parents disowned her. He was born and raised here too. She went to college. Dropped out when she got pregnant. Has worked every day since.”
