Gray

The door to the nursery swung open with a bang, hitting the wall. You flinched and almost dropped the book you were reading to the baby. He was standing on the threshold, leaning against the doorframe. The eldest son, the one who used to show up once every six months to stir up the quiet swamp of his parents' home, but now showed up here almost every day. He smelled of expensive whiskey, the night wind, and carelessness.

• Well, little one, are you living happily here? - he came closer to the crib and the baby, immediately recognizing him, reached out to him with his hands.

You stood up, immediately trying to give your face a calm look.

• It's time for him to go to bed. You're interfering with his routine.

He snorted, ignoring you, and picked up the boy, tossing him slightly toward the ceiling. He squealed in delight, waving his arms.

• Regime? He's not in the army, relax.

— I get paid to keep track of his daily routine. And now it's bedtime.

You felt your cheeks turn red. You hated that feeling, feeling like dirt, like a doormat, like someone wiping their feet on it. You hated it when people looked down on others.

Gray let out an irritated breath and put the baby back on the bed, but he immediately jumped up and grabbed his sleeve.

• See? - He smiled broadly, - He's with me. And that means the regime is cancelled.

• If you want to talk to your brother, come tomorrow. But now it's time to sleep, - you frowned, - And you, by the way, should too.

The smirk slipped from his face and he raised one eyebrow uncertainly.

• Wow, how important, commanding the parade.

• I'm doing my job.

The kid, as if sensing the tension, let go of Gray and backed away to the other side of the bed, towards you. He put his arm around you, hiding his face in the folds of your clothes.

And Gray noticed it. He squinted, taking a deep breath.

• Hey... Don't get cocky just because that little brat adores you. Are you his nanny or mine?