“You are supposed to care for an infant, not dress like Winnie the Pooh,” I snap.
Her face scrunches. “Winnie the?—?”
“Half naked and oddly proud of it,” I clip.
She gives me a blank look.
“Get out,” I say flatly, knowing that if she’s not decently dressed, then she’s not the right person to trust with this baby.
The second candidate is shown in. She’s obviously Russian and even dresses a little like Babulya. Oh God, how I wish Babulya was here right now because she’d know exactly how to care for this baby.
Candidate two is maybe around seventy or even eighty. But I frown as I notice that she smells strongly of…boiled cabbage.
“I believe in a strict Russian diet,” she says, thumping her chest with conviction.
“Er, good,” I reply. “The boy will need strong meals. His father told me that he’s eating soft foods now.”
“Babiesmusteat my stew. Borscht, borscht, and more borscht! If they don’t like it, they wait until the next meal!”
I stare at her. “You mean…you starve them?”
“Not starve. Just demand mandatory obedience!”
Leon lets out a small wail in Igor’s arms, looking horrified even though he probably doesn’t understand any words yet.
“No,” I snap. “This is a baby, not a recruit forSpetsnaz. Leave please. And close the door on your way out.”
The final candidate arrives a few minutes later.Please, God, let her be the one...
The woman doesn’t even glance at Leon when she comes in. She sits, pulls out her cell phone, and starts scrolling.
“My only question,” she says without looking up, “is do I get paid extra per diaper change? And double if the baby shits?”
“That’s what you want to ask?” I croak.
“Diapers are gross.” She shudders dramatically.
I rise slowly, towering over her. “You know what else isgross? The sight of you still sitting there. Leave!”
She flees after a roll of her eyes.
And by the time the door slams, my patience is completely gone. Leon has stopped crying only because he’s fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion, his tiny fingers gripping Igor’s shirt.
I look down at his scrunched-up face and sigh. Turning to my men, I snap, “You two, figure out a schedule. Diapers, bottles, meals, and naps.”
“What…?” Yuri stutters.
“Watch the baby until the mother arrives!” I order Igor and Yuri.
They stare at me, stunned.
I scowl. “What? You think I’d trust a stranger with him?Over my dead body.”
“Hold on! Where are you—” But Yuri’s voice peters out when I level a glare at him.
I need to get myself together. To find something to bring me back to a calmer level. “Guard that baby with your life, understand?” I growl.
“But—”
