Page 8 of Billionaire Babysitter

I chuckle again at this. These kids are super cute. It’s taking me right back to summer afternoons looking after my younger siblings, cooking and yelling at each other and having the most epic fights you could possibly have before laughing it off like nothing had happened. “I think we can arrange that,” I say, glancing over my shoulder at Lucas. His face is unchanged, stern and overwhelmed.

“Yes,” he says, his voice clipped like he’s trying not to shout again. Unfortunately for him, yelling at kids isn’t going to get the same results that it does from employees. “I guess I can order something.”

“Awesome,” I say, then look back at the three kids. “And in the meantime we should clean up this mess and ourselves.” Noah nods emphatically. “Let me look at your hands,” I say. All three of them stick their hands out at me, wiggling their fingers. To my relief all I can see is batter — I’d rather not to have to deal with children with bits of ceramic stuck in their fingers. “All right, then. You know where the bathroom is?”

They nod with varying degrees of enthusiasm. I smile pleasantly at Chloe. One of the best ways to get small children to do things for you is to persuade them that they’re doing you a huge favor. It makes them feel useful. And there’s nothing more exciting to asmall child than feeling useful. “You can take your siblings to go and get cleaned up, right? I can trust you to make sure that you all get squeaky clean?”

Chloe frowns then nods with grim determination. “Okay… Um, what’s your name?”

I chuckle. “Sophie.”

Again, Chloe nods then turns to her siblings with militaristic certainty. She rounds them up and marches them away, leaving me and Lucas alone in his enormous kitchen.

“So…” he says, looking between me and the mess like he doesn't quite know what to do next.

I know I shouldn’t, but instinct kicks in and I grab some paper towels from the counter and a cloth from the sink, and I crouch to the floor to start cleaning up the mess. I have literally never seen such bad pancake batter before in my entire life. How did he get it so wrong?

As I start collecting the pieces of the broken bowl and putting them to one side, I find a suspicious black rectangle hidden amongst the carnage. Slowly, I hold Lucas’s phone up to him. “I guess this is why you didn’t get my message.” I have to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing. This entire situation is beyond ridiculous.

“Come and babysit for me,” he says. I blink in confusion.Is he kidding?But he still has the earnestness in his eyes and the kind of expression he wears when he expects his staff to just say yes to his every wish.

“Sir,” I say trying not to let him down too hard, “I think that’s a little outside my job description.”

He shakes his head. “Come on, for me. You're so good with them, and I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. I rely on you for everything else, don’t I?

I open my mouth and shut it again. I can’t really argue with that. But babysitting his brother’s kids…

“I’ll pay,” he says, a desperate glint in his eyes. “I’ll pay triple whatever your overtime already is. Plus the Christmas bonus. Three Christmas bonuses. Name your price.”

Now, that’s a tempting offer. It’s not that I really want to do this, but he’s playing me like I just played the children, acting like this is some big favor with a big reward at the end. And I really could do with the money…

“Fine,” I say with a sigh. “But I want that in writing.”

“Deal,” he grins. “I’ll get you to write up the contract.”

I shoot him a look but choose not to say anything. I’m not really sure there is a whole lot else to say. I throw another wad of paper towel at the mess and watch as the ooze soaks up. Then I look back up at Lucas and say, “Do you think they’re being surprisingly quiet?”

He frowns. We both listen for a moment and hear absolutely nothing. It’s suspicious. “Aren’t theymeantto be quiet?” he asks.

“Notthisquiet. Quick, let’s find them before they can make more mischief.”

CHAPTER 6

LUCAS

The disadvantage to living in six thousand square feet is the amount of space children have to get hidden in. Not a problem I ever expected to have, but one that is proving to be more troublesome than I ever could have imagined. It doesn’t help that all of the bedrooms are en suite, plus there’s an extra bathroom for guests in the living room. The kids could be anywhere.

Sophie and I split up. She takes the left guest bedroom, and I take the right one. We glance at each other before we enter the rooms. I open the door carefully and peer inside.

This is the room I assigned to the kids last night. I’m shocked to see that it’s not actually much of a mess. They haven’t made the bed, but I suppose that can be forgiven. All three of their suitcases are lined up at the foot of the bed like one of those awful novels about young children being evacuated from war and sent off to live in some country mansion with evil-villain-style adoptive parents. I guess it can’t be much fun being shoved off with some stranger instead of getting to stay at home withyour parents, so I don’t really begrudge them disliking me that much. And anyway, I can’t say I likethemvery much either.

I poke my head into the bathroom to find three toothbrushes scattered haphazardly on the surface. No sign of children, though.

I back out of the bathroom and head back to the hall, shutting the bedroom door behind me. A sudden flash of panic shoots through me as I imagine having to tell Jason that I’ve lost his three children. After all, the front door isn’t latched, and elevators can be operated by anyone. It’s not a pleasant feeling. I’m not the kind of guy who fails very often.

Sophie reverses out of the other bedroom seconds after me, wearing a similar frown. “No luck?”

I shake my head. They definitely came in this direction, so unless they really have made a break for the outside world, that leaves only one place they can be. “Those little bastards,” I mutter.

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