I cleared my throat. “Fine. You’ll get my card.”
“Good. Now, we need to sort out the rest of this mess.” Violet took stock of the supplies Liam had bought. “I don’t even know where to start.”
I leaned against the doorframe. “Welcome to my world.”
She shot me a look but got to work.
“These nappies are too big. And you need more formula. And wipes. And a proper changing mat.” She sighed. “Do you have a pen and paper?”
I found a notepad and pen in a kitchen drawer and handed them to her.
“Thanks.” She took them without looking up. “We can order most of it online, but some things we’ll need right away.”
A strange mixture of relief and resentment churned in my gut. I needed the help—God knows I was drowning—but watching Julian’s daughter dismantle my kitchen felt like letting the enemy inside the gates.
“What?” Violet looked up from her list, pen paused mid-word.
I forced my expression blank. “Nothing.”
She studied me for a moment, then went back to writing. “We need to establish some ground rules.”
“Let me guess. No parties, no women, no fun.”
“I don’t care what you do in your free time,” she said, her tone cutting. “But I’m not here to be your maid or your cook or your entertainment.”
“Right. And to report back to Daddy.”
Her pen stilled. “Excuse me?”
“Come on.” I crossed my arms. “You think I don’t know how this works? Julian plants you here, you keep tabs on me, make sure I’m behaving like a good little driver.”
She set the pen down with deliberate care. “I’m here to teach you to be a parent, Griffin.”
“I know that.”
“Good. Then I’ll handle Hazel.” She picked up her phone and unlocked it. “You focus on your career, but you need to learn the basics of childcare.”
How hard could it be? I memorized race reports in my sleep, adjusted strategy on instinct, handled more pressure in a single lap than most people did in a lifetime. A baby wasn’t that different, right? Learn the mechanics, adapt to the conditions, execute.
Except one wrong move in a race cost me a position. A wrong move with Hazel would be far worse.
“You don’t need to worry about cleaning, by the way. I have a cleaner that comes in once a week.”
She didn’t look up. “Good for you.”
I smirked. “Was that sarcasm or relief?”
“A bit of both.”
Fair enough.
“And food?” she asked, typing away on her phone. “Because I’m not cooking for you, and I’m definitely not surviving off takeaway for the next four months.”
I crossed my arms. “I have a meal service.”
“Then add me to it.”
Hazel started fussing, and Violet’s nose scrunched up before a devious glint entered her eyes. I took an instinctive step back.
