Filthy Rich Single Daddies (Filthy Rich Harems #2)

1. Skylar

Chapter 1

Skylar

I t's the perfect kind of afternoon for a skinny-dip in the neighbor's pool. The cool water laps against my skin as I glide through the crystalline pool. God, this feels amazing. I arch my back, letting the late afternoon sun warm my exposed breasts as I float languidly. The golden rays catch on the rippling surface, sending shimmering patterns dancing along the pool floor.

After the day I've had, I deserve this little slice of paradise. My students were absolute terrors today, and the PTA meeting afterward nearly drove me to tears. The PTA treasurer, Karen (not her real name), wouldn’t stop trying to micromanage everything, as if my life weren’t chaotic enough already. But this—this is my sanctuary now.

I dip beneath the surface, relishing the silky feel of the water against my naked body. When I emerge, droplets cascade down my face, and I push my wet hair back with both hands. The sprawling houses around me are barely visible through the lush landscaping. Not that I'm worried about prying eyes—this house has has been vacant for months.

The only signs of life I’ve seen on the neighbor’s property lately have been the pool and lawn guys, showing up like clockwork to maintain a house that no one lives in. So, when I got home and saw this beautiful, empty pool going unused— again —I decided I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. Call it opportunism or a bad case of poor impulse control, but it’s not like anyone’s going to know.

I swim to the edge of the pool and rest my arms on the sun-warmed concrete, gazing out at the manicured lawn. A gentle breeze rustles the trees, the faint sound of distant traffic reminding me I’m not completely isolated. "If only my students could see Miss Deveraux now." I chuckle.

Then it hits me—if they could see me, my third graders would be seeing me naked. I grimace at the thought and drop my head into my hands. Maybe not the best idea, Skylar. But the thought passes quickly, the ridiculousness of it all drawing a reluctant laugh from my lips. What am I even worried about? Here, surrounded by walls of greenery, I’m untouchable.

The stress of the day melts away as I close my eyes and tilt my face toward the sky, replaced by a deep sense of contentment. I push off from the wall, executing a lazy backstroke across the length of the pool. My mind drifts, savoring the peace and solitude.

The sunlight filters through my closed eyelids, warm and soothing. A bird chirps nearby, its melodic trill adding to the ambiance. I let myself drift, weightless and free, the water cradling me.

A gentle breeze caresses my skin, and I sigh in pleasure. "Now this is living," I say to no one in particular. "Eat your heart out, step monster." The words are sharper than I intend, but the thought of my father’s wife stumbling upon me like this is too funny to ignore. Her judgmental, pinched expression would be priceless.

For now, at least, all my worries seem as far away as the horizon.

So, when a thunderous barking shatters my serenity, I’m startles to say the least. I whip my eyes open just in time to see a massive dog, all snarling teeth and wild eyes, barreling out of the supposedly empty house.

What the actual fuck?

"Holy shit!" The words burst out of me as my heart leaps into my throat. I freeze mid-stroke, treading water in the center of the pool, unsure whether to swim for the edge or stay put. The beast looks like it could swallow me whole, and I’d rather not find out if that’s on its to-do list.

Just as I'm contemplating my odds of outswimming Cujo, a deep, masculine voice cuts through the chaos. "Djinn, come!"

The dog halts at the pool’s edge, teeth still bared, emitting a low growl that seems to vibrate through the water. Relief floods my system, but it’s short-lived. Because now, I have a bigger problem. Stepping out from the shadow of the house, is a man. And not just any man.

No, this is the kind of man sculptors dream of chiseling from marble—tall, with a jawline that could cut glass, piercing blue eyes, and the kind of effortless arrogance that screams power. His shirt clings to broad shoulders, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal forearms that are almost indecently attractive. He's the kind of handsome that belongs on magazine covers, not in the backyards of suburban mansions.

He stops at the edge of the pool, and his gaze locks on me—wet, naked, and very much trespassing.

"Well, this day just keeps getting better," I mutter, half to myself, though the sarcasm does little to mask my mortification. As if the situation wasn't awkward enough, a striking woman with a tablet joins Mr. Tall-Blond-and-Frowning. She’s polished to perfection with a sleek ponytail, sharp blazer, and a look on her face that shifts from composed to wide-eyed as she takes in the scene.

Lovely. Just lovely.

I force myself to meet their gazes, fighting the urge to sink beneath the water and never resurface. "Lovely day for a swim, isn't it?" I call out, my voice dripping with false cheer.

I cross my arms over my chest, desperately wishing I had a towel, or better yet, an invisibility cloak. The water laps at my shoulders, cool against my flushed skin. I consider making a dash for the pool's edge, but what's the point? They've already gotten an eyeful.

Their silence stretches for an eternity—or maybe three seconds—before the Adonis speaks, his tone clipped and accusing. “Who are you? And what, exactly, do you think you’re doing in my pool?”

I raise an eyebrow, trying to summon some bravado despite my very obvious disadvantage. "Your pool? I don’t see your name on it. This house has been empty for months."

His jaw tightens, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "I'm Austin Rhodes, the new owner of this no-longer-empty house. Your turn."

Crap. Of all the rotten luck.

I plaster on a strained smile, the kind I usually reserve for PTA meetings and difficult parents. “Longtime neighbor and pool enthusiast.”

“Also known as a trespasser,” he replies smoothly.

“Tomato, to-mah-to,” I quip, pushing wet hair off my face. "Well, Austin Rhodes, it seems we have a bit of a misunderstanding on our hands."

His eyes narrow, those impossibly blue irises darkening like storm clouds. "What I understand is that you're trespassing. In my pool. Naked."

I can't help it—I laugh. It's that or cry, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction. "Guilty as charged on all counts. Though in my defense, I had no idea anyone had moved in."

I toss my wet hair over my shoulder, ignoring the water dripping down my back. "Look, I live next door, and I've been using this pool all spring. No harm, no foul, right?"

Austin's gaze rakes over me, a mix of irritation and something hotter simmering beneath the surface. "I'd hardly call breaking and entering 'no harm’."

"Breaking and entering?" I scoff, gesturing to the open gate with my chin. “The gate’s been broken for forever, so technically, you should thank me for alerting you to a security issue.”

The woman beside him clears her throat, tapping furiously on her tablet. "Mr. Rhodes, would—should I get started on the master bedroom?"

He waves her off, his eyes never leaving mine. "Yes. Thank you, Amelia. I’ll be in after I’ve dealt with this… situation ."

I roll my eyes. "Oh please, don't let little old me disrupt your busy billionaire schedule. I'll just grab my things and be on my merry way."

"Not so fast," Austin growls, taking a step closer to the pool's edge. "We're not done here."

The tension crackles between us, electric and dangerous. I know I should be embarrassed—ashamed, even—but something about his authoritative tone grates on my nerves. I’m not some naughty schoolgirl to be scolded.

“Actually,” I counter, cocking an eyebrow, “we are. Unless you’d like to join me for a swim?”

His eyes widen fractionally, and for a moment, I think I've rendered the great Austin Rhodes speechless. Then his lips curve into a predatory smile that sends a shiver down my spine.

"Don't tempt me, trouble," he purrs, his voice like velvet over steel. "You might not like the results."

Oh, but I think I would.

I push off the wall with a lazy stroke, letting the water lap around me. “Look,” I say, trying for casual, “I didn’t know anyone had moved in. It was just a harmless swim. No big deal.”

Austin’s gaze follows me, his expression unreadable but intense. “No big deal?” His voice drops, silk and steel. “Breaking and entering is a crime. I could have you arrested.”

I roll my eyes. “Breaking and entering? Really? If anything, I was doing this pool a favor. It was practically begging for attention.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, to my surprise, the corner of his mouth twitches. Just slightly. That predatory smile is back, wider, and oh. Oh. It’s the kind of smile that could make a girl forget her own name. He studies me with an intensity that makes my skin tingle.

Then he tilts his head, his smile deepening. “You should count yourself lucky, trouble. If I weren’t in such a good mood today, this conversation might’ve gone differently.”

“Lucky?” I scoff, refusing to be intimidated. “Let me guess—this is the part where you threaten to call the cops?”

“Only if you leave without agreeing to replace the bottle of scotch I’ll need after dealing with this,” he drawls.

I laugh, the sound bubbling up unbidden. Damn him. He’s insufferable, but I can’t deny the spark crackling between us.

“Deal,” I say, my voice laced with defiance. “But only if you promise not to sick Cujo on me next time.”

“Djinn,” he corrects, his eyes glinting with humor. “And that depends entirely on how well you behave.”

“Oh, I never behave,” I reply, pushing off the wall with a smirk. “But something tells me you already knew that.”

As I glide away, I feel his gaze burning into me, electric and unapologetically intrigued. So much for peace and quiet.

The auditorium buzzes with excitement as I guide my students through their final bows. Glitter rains down from homemade banners, catching the stage lights and transforming the chaos into something magical. Parents cheer, siblings wave wildly, and the faint hum of a hundred simultaneous conversations creates a symphony of post-performance euphoria. I clap along with the crowd, my chest swelling with pride as my students beam under the spotlight.

"Great job, everyone!" I call out, my voice straining to rise above the din. "Remember to thank your families for coming!"

A few of the kids run up for high fives, their faces flushed with the adrenaline of a successful show. My heart melts as I see the pure joy radiating off them. Moments like these make the long hours of rehearsals and lesson plans worth every second.

The principal gets on the microphone, her voice cutting through the chatter. "Families, please come forward to collect your star performers! We'll release them directly to you."

I hustle to my designated area, where a cheerful, hand-painted sign bearing my name marks my station. I adjust it slightly, ensuring it’s visible from the crowd, and glance down at my clipboard. The organized chaos begins as parents filter in, some with flowers and others still wielding phone cameras.

"Lucas Rhodes? Lucas Rhodes?" I call out, scanning the sea of faces for the young boy's family. My eyes dart to the entrance, but no one steps forward. "Is Lucas Rhodes' family here?"

A familiar tune catches my ear. Is that... the Jaws theme? I shake my head, chalking it up to post-performance jitters. But then I see him, moving through the crowd like a shark gliding through water. The sea of parents part as if they sense his presence before they even see him.

Austin Rhodes.

And he’s not just here—he’s dressed to kill .

He looks positively edible in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my yearly salary. It hugs his tall frame perfectly, every detail screaming power and privilege. Our eyes lock, and suddenly I’m back in that pool, naked and vulnerable under his scorching gaze. My stomach flips, but I swallow hard, pasting on my best professional smile. Whatever he’s doing here, I refuse to let him see me sweat.

Game on, Mr. Billionaire. Game on.

His eyes are dark and intense, a mix of heat and something harder—disappointment? Anger? I can't quite place it, but it makes my skin prickle.

"Miss Deveraux," he clips out, my name sounding like an accusation on his tongue.

I lift my chin, meeting his gaze head-on. "Mr. Rhodes. What a...surprise to see you here."

Oh, shit. Rhodes. Lucas Rhodes. His son. He’s here for his son. That I teach. Well, isn’t that a fun coincidence? And thank God Lucas wasn’t with him when he caught me naked in his pool.

His jaw tightens, and I can practically feel the tension radiating off him in waves. It's clear he's not thrilled to find me in this setting, but why? Does he think I'm not good enough to teach his son? The thought makes my blood boil.

Even if my first impression was a little lacking…in the clothing department. It wasn’t lacking in chemistry.

"I wasn't aware you were a teacher," he says, his voice low and controlled.

I arch an eyebrow, unable to resist the urge to poke the bear. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Mr. Rhodes. Though I suppose that goes both ways, doesn't it?"

His jaw tightens, the muscles flexing in a way that’s both infuriating and…unfairly attractive. His eyes narrow, and for a moment, I think I've pushed too far. But then a small voice pipes up from beside me.

"Ms. Deveraux! Did you see my solo?"

I tear my gaze away from Austin to find Lucas beaming up at me, his eyes shining with excitement. He’s practically bouncing on his toes, his face glowing with pride. My heart melts a little at his enthusiasm, and I can't help but smile back.

"I certainly did, Lucas," I say, crouching down to his level. "You were absolutely fantastic up there. Your voice is getting stronger every day."

Lucas's smile widens, and he practically hops with enthusiasm. "Really? Do you think I could be a singer someday?"

I feel Austin's eyes burning into me, but I keep my focus on Lucas. "With talent like yours? Absolutely. The sky's the limit, kiddo."

Lucas looks like I’ve just handed him the moon. "Thanks, Ms. Deveraux!"

When I straighten, I can feel Austin’s gaze burning into me. I turn to find him watching me with an expression I can’t quite read. There’s something softer in his eyes now, though it’s fleeting—gone as quickly as it appeared.

Deciding to lighten the mood, I flash him a teasing smile. "You know, Mr. Rhodes," I say, injecting a playful lilt into my voice, "if you're interested in seeing more of my teaching skills, I offer private swimming lessons too."

Austin's lips purse, a muscle ticking in his jaw. I've hit a nerve, but I can't bring myself to care. Let him be uncomfortable. I'm done feeling ashamed.

"Lucas," Austin says, his voice tight. "It's time to go."

The boy hesitates, glancing between us before finally nodding. "Okay, Dad."

Austin takes his son’s hand, steering him away without so much as a goodbye. But as they weave through the crowd, Lucas turns back, waving enthusiastically.

"Bye, Ms. Deveraux!"

I wave back, my smile lingering even as the knot in my stomach tightens.

As they disappear from view, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My heart is still pounding, a mix of frustration and something I don’t want to name simmering beneath the surface.

"Well," I mutter to myself, tucking my hair behind my ears. "That went about as well as expected."

At least I didn't back down. But deep down, I can’t help but wonder if this is just the beginning. Because no matter how much I want to deny it, there’s no escaping the fact that Austin Rhodes is now a very real—and very complicated—part of my life.

He is my new neighbor after all.