Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Alesso
“Ithink Isolde changed her license plate,” Oliver complains as he glares at his computer.
Grant and Lucas went to Indianapolis a few hours after Isolde left, and Oliver has been twitchy ever since. I don’t blame him, because I took three new short-term clients to be able to kill time. They’re people who need their books cooked but don’t need much beyond that.
I’m good with money, bookkeeping, and money laundering, which makes me invaluable to clients. Typically, the short term clients are people trying to cover up a major fuck up or who are going to be audited soon. I can make things appear to all be above board in a believable way.
My finger bounces to music only I can hear as I work, while Oliver attempts to find Isolde.
“Why don’t you look for some type of disaster?” I suggest. “An explosion, mass murder, maybe some fire.”
Oliver makes a noise that doesn’t sound very polite as I chuckle under my breath and continue working. It’s almost noon and while Isolde hasn’t checked in, I didn’t think she would yet.
She’s on a job, and I would prefer that it have her full attention.
“I just got a hit on the news,” Oliver says. “There’s a fire in Illinois. It’s in the middle of nowhere so it doesn’t look like it’ll spread, they say.”
“How many dead?” I ask drolly. That’ll really help me know if this is my omega’s work or not.
“They can’t tell but there were bikers shot in the yard and naked women crying when the firefighters arrived. Now, the police are saying they aren’t sure what’s going on, but they’re investigating,” Oliver says.
“I doubt that Isolde would allow this to be pinned—”
“Shit, I see her,” he interrupts.
“At the fire?” I ask, closing out my programs and shutting my computer. It doesn’t sound like her to be at the scene of the crime.
That’s just not smart.
“At the gate,” he says, hitting a key to turn off his computer and standing in one smooth motion.
“Oh!” I explain, setting my computer next to his on the table and following him to the front door. He opens the gate with his phone, and we walk out to meet her as she rolls up the drive.
“Did something go wrong?” I muse, watching as she puts the SUV into park and shuts off the car.
Not only is she back early, she also jumps out the driver side door as if her hair is on fire.
“Kitten?” Oliver asks, coming closer.
And then we hear it….a tiny person is screaming.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Isolde croons, appearing flustered as she tears open the rear passenger door. “You’re coming out of there right fucking now.”
She quickly undoes the straps of the car seat and lifts a baby with blonde hair and a scrunched up nose. Tears are streaming down the baby’s face and my heart begins to pound with confusion.
A bambina.
“What’s going on, topolina?” I ask.
“I’ll tell you,” she says breathlessly. “First, this little girl is probably an orphan and she’s mine now. She started crying fifteen minutes ago, and I was so close to getting here that I kept going.”
I can either choose to freak out or accept it.
“Can I hold her?” I ask, holding my arms out. “Grab your things and let’s see why she’s so mad. I don’t know the first thing about this little girl, but we can figure it out together.”
Oliver takes a deep breath, and I can see the moment he faces the same choice I just made.
“Okay, Kitten,” he whispers. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” she sighs, carefully giving the baby to me with a blanket wrapped around her. The winter weather is cold, but the warmth of the thick blanket will help until we get inside.
“Does she have a name?” Oliver asks after her as she crawls into the SUV to grab her bags.
“Nope. I almost burned the house up around her,” Isolde confesses, getting back out and shutting the door. At the look of horror on our faces, she nods. “Yeah, that’s pretty much how I feel about it.”
She strides into the house without a glance back at us and we follow her. Woefully out of my scope of skill, I hold the bambina in my arms, awkwardly rubbing her back as she continues to cry.
Isolde walks straight toward the kitchen and begins to make a bottle for the bambina, appearing to know what she’s doing.
“Have you been around babies before?” Oliver asks slowly.
“No, but I have a great memory. I watched someone make a bottle, so now I can at least manage this and change a diaper. The rest is up in the air,” she grunts. “Let’s go to the living room and I’ll explain. Then you can tell me if you can roll with this or not.”
“Roll with this,” Oliver echoes.
Shifting the baby to my left arm, I smack the dick over the head to reboot him. Maybe it’ll work.
“Stop being broken,” I hiss as she leaves the room. “The bambina is a deal breaker for her. I can feel it here.”
I lift the baby up and down, but I mean my chest. It’s difficult to speak with my hands when they’re a little full.
“Bambina… Ah, fuck. This is insane, but if she feels attached to this baby, then there’s nothing more to do. I guess you’re ours,” Oliver says, addressing the bambina and I.
“Where’s my baby?” Isolde calls out from the living room.
Oliver turns and walks head first into the wall, leaving me to chuckle after him. He’s an idiot. We’re all very private, suspicious alphas. However, this baby is innocent.
Oliver is going to need to acclimate.
Getting my feet moving, I bring the bambina to Isolde, sitting beside her as she takes her and opens the blanket from around her body. A moment later, she encourages the baby to take the bottle, and then runs her thumb inside the diaper.
“What are you doing?” I ask, jaw dropped.
“I suspect that’s the easiest way to check for wetness,” Oliver drawls, making Isolde’s lips twitch.
“She’s wet,” Isolde sighs. “I’ll change her after she eats. Here’s how everything went.”
Isolde leans back, appearing completely comfortable as she does, explaining everything. I swear, my asshole puckered, packed up, and ran away as she gave every detail of how she killed Toad.
“You’re really fucking scary,” I whisper. I’m disturbingly turned on as I lean over to help her take off her shoes.
Now that I’m closer to her, I can smell the scent of smoke coming from her skin.
“I need a shower,” she admits, wincing. “The baby…dammit she needs a name. Let me finish telling you how I found her and then we can decide if you’re going to help me name her or not.”
Fuck me, she still thinks that we’re going to reject her.
“No,” I growl. “No, no! You seem to be forgetting something, topolina.”
“And what is that?” she asks, shifting in her seat, yawning. I’m not surprised that she’s tired. I am not above getting her to move in to offer her extra hands.
I don’t care if this isn’t my house. I live here, which means that I have a say in my omega moving in with us. Let’s be honest though.
Lucas will kiss me stupid if I manage to swing this.
“No one is walking away. Least of all me,” I say.
“I don’t know where anyone else stands on kids, but I have a large family.
I got to see them while I was in Italy and it was lovely.
Sometimes I miss how loud it all is. My apartment is too silent.
It’s nice to always have someone around while I’m here. ”
“I get that,” Oliver admits. “Not the large family, but living alone. I like being here. The only thing missing is you.”
“Pump the brakes,” Isolde squeaks. “Babies are messy, right?”
Rita walks in, grinning as she sees the baby.
“Cleaning messes is my specialty,” she shrugs. “There’s not much here that a little thing like that can break. Besides, Lucas would level this place without thinking for you.”
“Why do I have to hate this house so much,” Isolde groans. “It’s too big for me.”
“Fuck it, I’ll move in with you,” I decide. “Finish what you have to say, but know that a bambina isn’t going to make me run away screaming.”
“Oh,” Rita says, realizing how heavy this conversation is. “If it helps, Lucas is wonderful with children. Can I get you anything, Isolde? You look a little tired.”
“I didn’t sleep much,” Isolde says, another yawn almost breaking her jaw. “I would love some coffee, please.”
“Ah, have you eaten?” I ask.
“Not a thing,” she winces.
“I’ll put something together before coffee,” Rita decides, escaping the room.
“Finish the story so we can take care of you,” Oliver says.
Isolde looks down at the bambina, smiling as she sees the little girl is asleep. Lifting the bottle away, Isolde catches the dribble of milk that is escaping the bambina’s lips.
“I was only in the house as long as I was because I forgot my leather jacket in one of the biker’s bedrooms. Can you imagine if I’d done one thing differently…”
Isolde gasps as tears begin to slide down her cheeks, and that makes me freeze.
“She was in a fucking closet,” she sobs. “Someone stuck her there in the bassinet and completely forgot about her. Who does that?”
“Someone who doesn’t deserve her,” I decide. “I don’t need to know anymore. Do you, Oliver?”
“Nope,” he grunts, moving over to sit on her other side. “How do you change a sleeping babies’ diaper?”
Sobbing harder as she also smiles, she shrugs. “I expect…very carefully.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.”
Isolde moves her so that the bambina is laying across her lap while she still cradles her, and Oliver opens the bottom of her onesie.
“Why are there so many snaps?” he asks.
“I need to buy baby clothes,” Isolde confesses. “I want to burn this onesie. The snaps will make me insane.”
“We’re already on the same page. Now, let’s choose a name and then we can call Lucas and Grant to tell them they’re parents,” I say, the absurdity of the statement making me chuckle.
“This is…insane,” she hiccups.
Oliver manages to get the diaper on, but it’s missing one of her butt cheeks completely.
“Great diaper skills,” I tease him, moving over to tug it into place. “I’m not fucking with the buttons, though.”
Unanimously deciding that none of us will, I resume my position on the couch.
“Names,” Isolde murmurs. “What about Meara?”