Page 19 of Billionaire Babysitter

Chloe nods to herself, and it’s my turn to narrow my eyes suspiciously. I don’t think I like where this scheme is going. The last thing I need is some surprise bomb.

“Uncle Lucas,” asks Chloe, batting her eyelashes sweetly. I steel myself for whatever request is going to be asked of me.

“What?” I say, trying not to sound too harsh.

“Please can you help me with a crafts project?” she says, pressing her small hands together like some sort of plotting raccoon.

I frown. Never in my life have I felt any particular desire to do arts and crafts, and I feel even less desire to do it with a child who’s going to get mess and glitter and paint all over. I’m already worried enough for my sofa as it is, without the added complications of sticky handprints.

“Are you sure you don’t want Sophie to help you?” I ask, glancing over to her in the hope that she’ll take my side and just agree to do whatever it is Chloe wants her to do. But Sophie completely ignores me, not even bothering to glance up from the dishes that she’s putting away to catch my eye or take pity on me. I suppose I can’t ask her to do too many things at once. She can help Chloe after she’s finished doing the washing up.

Chloe has other ideas, though.

She folds her arms and says, “No! I wantyourhelp! You never sit and do anything with us.” To prove her point she huffs loudly and frowns. It looks worryingly like she’s about to start crying. She glances over at Noah to try and get him on side but he’s too absorbed in playing with toy trains to pay the slightest bit of attention to his sister.

Caught on the spot like a panicked deer, I say, lamely, “I’d love to help but I have an important meeting in ten minutes. I really can’t miss it, and wanting to sit and play just isn’t an excuse that flies in the business world.”

Chloe lets out a groan of disappointment. “But you had a very important meeting this morning. And yesterday. And the day before. You can’t havethatmany meetings to go to.”

“No,” chips in Sophie. “There have been lots of meetings recently. Uncle Lucas is a very busy man, and a lot of people do want to speak to him.”

Finally! Someone’s on my side. A warm rush of relief washes down my body, relaxing me so much I don’t see the punchline coming.

“—But the good thing about being the big boss is that you get to schedule meetings whenever you want. Wouldn’t it be nice if Uncle Lucas would change some of his meetings so he had some time to play with you?”

“Yeah!” cries Chloe. “We want to play! Please, Uncle Lucas.”

“Please,” echoes Noah, finally paying attention to the conversation again, getting the smug nod of approval from his sister.

“I can’t!” I snap, too harshly.

Sophie folds her arms in disapproval. “Well, if you’ve got ten minutes to spare, you could come and help me load the dishwasher.”

“What?” I say, blinking as I try to comprehend.

“You heard me. I made dinner, so it’s only fair that you come help me wash up.”

I want to tell her that I don’t wash up, but I also don’t particularly feel like facing her wrath.

Wordlessly, I get up and saunter into the kitchen. If there’s one thing I won’t be accused of, it’s laziness. Usually, I’m resourceful in getting my house tidied, not lazy.

Sophie watches me, eagle-eyed, as I make my way over. I know she’s waiting to see what I’ll do next, but she should know by now that I never back down from a challenge. She should alsoknow that I’ve never once in my life loaded a dishwasher. But how hard can it be? It’s just plates. It’s just stacking.

Anyway, I can do anything. Everything is a case of mind over matter.

She gestures to all the plates in the sink, raising an eyebrow at me. I raise my eyebrows in return, head for the sink, and immediately touch something slimy. I recoil at the sensation, nausea rushing up my throat. I’m starting to realize why Yolanda always wears rubber gloves for everything. Having to touch all this with your bare hands is vile.

Still, I’ve committed to this now, so I grit my teeth and start slinging plates into the dishwasher, trying to shove as much stuff in there as possible. Sophie stops observing me so closely, so I figure I must be doing something right. The boost of confidence speeds me up, and it doesn’t take long at all before I’ve finished balancing pots on top of each other and piling in bowls and plates. “There,” I say smugly, heading back to the sink to wash my hands. “All done.”

Sophie scoffs when she sees my efforts. “You really think this is how to load a dishwasher?” she says incredulously. I stare at her blankly. She frowns hard, staring me down. “Noneof this stuff is going to get washed. They’re stacked too close together. You need to take some stuff out and try again.”

“I’m not a child!” I snap.

“Well, stop acting like one, then!” she snaps in return. “You should really learn how to do some of this stuff yourself. A child could do it better than you.”

A flash of rage hits me, and before I can stop myself, I hear myself saying, “If you hate it so much, why don’tyoujust do it?”

She glares hard at me, the atmosphere between us plummeting tens of degrees into freezing. “Fine,” she says, her entire body riddled with tension. If I weren’t so mad myself, I think I’d find her self-assuredness attractive. So many people just crumble before me, and she has so many times before, but now I’m seeing her stand up for herself and I’m finding myself drawn to her in a way I never have before.

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