I smoothed my hands along my tailored Armani suit before I ran my hands through my hair. The baby was sleeping in the middle of my bed and the clock was ticking down, inching endlessly closer to the time of my meeting.

Where the hell was this babysitter?

The agency told me someone would be over by 7:30. They said she had agreed to the live-in stipulation and was coming with her things, and I sent the driver promptly at 6:40 to pick her up. I was about to grab my phone and call the driver before a sound caught my ear –

• The lightest groaning and stretching.

I whirled around on my heels and watched as the baby shifted in my bed. I tip-toed over to the side of the bed as her big doe eyes fluttered open and I lost myself in the deep sea blue of her eyes.

She had Gracie’s eyes…

But that familiar sound started back up. The baby crinkled her nose and furrowed her brow, and the next thing I knew she was filling my room with the sounds of demons screaming just before she stopped.

She just… stopped.

She stopped, her face turned red, and then the sound of ketchup slipping from the nozzle of a bottle emanated from underneath her blanket…

… And the smell of a sewer filled the corners of my room.

“Jesus, fu–... seriously?”

I put my arm over my nose as the child continued to look up at me, and when she watched me turn my back, she started up that sound again. That crying, wrenching, gasping-for-air sound that could have convinced anyone on the city block I was stabbing her with a fork.

I looked at the clock just as it turned over to 7:30, and my blood began to boil with overboiling rage. I slammed my hand down onto my cell phone, and just as I went to scroll for my driver’s number, a heavy knock fell onto the door.

“About damn time,” I murmured.

I shoved my cell phone into my pocket and strode for the front door. The child was screaming and shitting in the middle of my California King-sized bed with satin sheets that cost more than that child’s current existence. So, when I flung the door open, the woman standing on the other side surprisingly trapped my eyes.

She was wheeling a massive suitcase behind her and her ratty purse was tucked up onto her shoulder. Her long legs fed into meaty thighs that gave birth to a waist any man would want to sink his fingertips into, and as my eyes panned up to her perky, solid breasts, my mouth began to water before I finally caught a glimpse of her skin.

Smooth and sun-kissed, bronzed from the summer sun and glistening in the natural light that shone around my shoulders.

But that damn crying ripped me from my juicy analysis when the woman came quickly up beside me.

“Where is she?” she said before she pushed by me.

I watched her dump her dirty suitcase onto my pristine hardwood floor, and her dark brown hair wafted weightlessly around her shoulders before her body took off down the hallway.

My long strides followed her, watching her as she worked her way into my penthouse suite.

Like she already knew where everything was.

She dipped into my bedroom, and when I turned the corner I saw her scoop the child off the bed before she crinkled her nose.

“Any diapers anywhere?” she asked.

It was when she looked at me that I caught the color of her eyes: brown with speckles of yellow that made her seem exotic in the morning sunlight that streamed behind her through the wide windows of my room. Her hair was haloed in yellows and oranges and her curves were accentuated by the beautiful New York skyline painted behind her body.

If she wasn’t my babysitter, I’d have her right where she stood.

“Sir?” she asked.

I ripped myself from my trance before I stepped forward and offered her my hand.

“Derek Blake,” I said.

“Madeline Albright,” she responded. She didn’t take my hand but, instead, bounced the child in her arms. The crying quieted down and I watched the child nuzzle into her breasts, and I wondered what they would feel like against my cheek before she asked me another question.

“Formula or breast milk?” she asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you have any diapers, and is she formula or breast-fed?” she asked again.

“One and I don’t know,” I stated plainly.

The look she gave me was a great one: confusion mixed with disgust with a little bit of hesitation thrown in for good measure. It came as no shocker that the child would quiet down for her. After all, this was her profession. I’m sure all children took to her just fine.

“Could you show me where that one diaper is, then?” she asked.

I turned and walked out of the room before I heard her steps patter up behind me. The child was cooing and spitting, and I felt an odd sense of relief wash over me at the idea of someone being here to help. It was obvious I had no idea what I was supposed to do, and having someone here to do it for me meant one less thing I had to worry about before this meeting.

Oh shit… I had forgotten about the meeting.

I showed her to the basket that was still in the kitchen before I slipped my wallet from my pocket and handed her a card.

“This card’s hooked up to my account, get whatever you need for her,” I said as I motioned to the baby. “I have a meeting I have to get to, so she’s all yours.”

“Wait a second,” Madeline said. “Does she have any allergies, or special needs, or supplements to take?”

“Honestly? I really don’t know,” I chuckled before I threw my hands up in the air.

“Well, where’s her nursery? Her crib? Her changing table?” Madeline rattled off.

“Really; I don’t know,” I shouted back before my hand landed on the doorknob.

“Well, where’s my room?” she yelled at me as she stood at the other end of the hallway.

“Choose any one that’s not mine! I don’t care!”

I stepped out the front door and closed it behind me before I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, I was out and away from this nightmare, and as long as the babysitter had access to funds I knew she wouldn’t bother me.

Probably.

“Ready to go, sir?” my driver asked me.

“Yes,” I breathed. I straightened out my jacket and started down the hallway, and just before I got to the elevator I heard her voice ricochet down the hallway.

“Did you even bother to name her?” the babysitter yelled out.

I whipped my head around to look at her as rage bubbled in the pit of my stomach. That child wasn’t my responsibility. Had I been there for her birth, of course I would have named her! I didn’t even know Gracie was pregnant! I didn’t know I had a daughter!

I didn’t know shit about any of this!!

“Of course,” I chuckled. “Her name’s Clara.”

And with that, I stepped into the elevator and left the babysitter to her job.