Perfect Scandal

Chapter 3

Riley stood at her counter, arms crossed over her chest, watching Alistair fumble with the baby bottle left with the baby. The baby, whom they'd now been caring for an hour, sat on the small, quilted blanket on Riley's living room floor, watching the two adults with wide, innocent eyes. Riley's initial rush of concern and a sense of duty had worn off, leaving her with an odd mix of regret and annoyance.

"What are you doing?" she finally snapped, unable to hold back her irritation as Ali attempted to screw the bottle cap on backward.

He looked up, his expression caught between a sheepish grin and genuine confusion. "I'm trying to feed her, obviously."

Riley let out a sharp sigh and walked over, snatching the bottle from his hands. "You're going to end up feeding her air at this rate. Give me that."

As she worked to fix the cap, Alistair's eyes lingered on her, a faint smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. He looked oddly at home in her simple apartment, despite the absurdity of the situation. He leaned against the kitchen counter, arms folded, his tousled hair still bearing the carefree touch of last night's party.

"Are you sure you're not her father?" Riley asked abruptly, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. "Because if this is some kind of elaborate prank or secret reveal, I'd like to know now."

Alistair's eyes widened, then a slow grin spread across his face. "Are you serious? Me? Her father? Riley, I think you've spent too much time reading those celebrity gossip columns."

"Well," Riley said, straightening up and giving him an appraising look, "you *are* a famous actor, and I'm pretty sure you've dated more women than I can count. So, yeah, there's a pretty big chance that she could be yours. Maybe someone decided they couldn't handle the Hollywood life and left her for you to find."

Ali chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "First of all, I'm always careful. And second, I think I'd remember if I had a child."

"Would you?" Riley raised an eyebrow, skepticism painted across her face. "People can be forgetful, you know."

"I'm not *that* forgetful." He leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a playful murmur. "Besides, between the two of us, you're the one biologically equipped to have a baby. Maybe this is your way of telling me something."

Riley's jaw dropped, and for a moment, she stared at him, speechless. "Me? Do I *look* like I've just given birth, Alistair? Seriously? You think I'd go through labor, what, two days ago and now I'm just hanging around my apartment studying for the convent?"

"Hey, stranger things have happened." Ali shrugged, the grin on his face widening. "And are you really planning to become a nun? Because I'm pretty sure your temper alone will set the church on fire as soon as you step inside."

Her eyes flashed dangerously. "Are you implying that I have a bad attitude?"

Ali chuckled, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just saying, if being a nun means patience and humility, you might want to work on those first."

Riley felt the sting of his words, though she didn't let it show. "If I really had such a terrible attitude, I wouldn't be here, would I? I wouldn't be helping you with *your* baby problem when I could be spending my time focusing on things that actually matter to me. Do you think I care about your reputation or how many people think you're the Hollywood sweetheart? No. I don't."

For a moment, there was silence between them, interrupted only by the quiet gurgles of the baby, who now seemed amused by the tension in the room. Ali's smile faded as he looked at her, an expression of surprise and something more profound crossing his face.

"You're right," he said finally, his voice softer. "You didn't have to help, but you did."

"Exactly." Riley set the now-fixed bottle down and took a step back, arms crossing again as a defensive barrier. "So don't lecture me on attitude, Alistair Gomez."

Ali's face lit up again with that infuriating smirk. "You know, most people call me Ali."

"Well, I'm not most people," Riley muttered, but the corner of her mouth twitched despite herself.

He watched her for a moment longer, then nodded, the teasing look replaced by a hint of genuine gratitude. "Thank you, Riley. Really."

She didn't respond, instead choosing to kneel down and pick up the baby, who squirmed happily in her arms. For a moment, the room was filled with an awkward silence that stretched and shifted into something more comfortable. The baby's tiny fingers grasped at Riley's sweater, and she glanced at Ali, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that had nothing to do with the baby's presence.

"Look," she said, shifting her gaze to the infant, "you should call someone. Child services or... whatever people call in situations like this."

Ali's playful expression hardened into something more serious. "I know. I will. I just wanted to make sure she was okay first."

Riley nodded, understanding flickering in her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but Ali spoke first.

"And you really think she could be mine?" His voice had softened, and now there was a vulnerability in his eyes that took her by surprise.

Riley looked at him for a moment, seeing past the polished actor persona and into the man who had shown up at her door, desperate and out of his depth. She sighed. "No, Ali, I don't think she's yours. But someone thought you were the right person to take care of her. And that counts for something."

Ali let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and smiled, the kind that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. "Good. Because I don't know what I'd do if she was."

Riley smirked, the tension in her shoulders easing. "You'd probably panic, run to your neighbor, and accuse *her* of being the mother."

He laughed, the sound filling the small space and chasing away the last remnants of unease between them. "Well, it worked, didn't it?"

Riley rolled her eyes, a reluctant smile spreading across her face. But just as quickly as it appeared, it faded. She placed the baby back in the basket and turned to face Ali, her expression serious. "This is your responsibility now, Ali. And I'm not a part of it."

Ali's smile faltered as she took a step toward the door. "Riley, wait—"

"No," she said, her tone firm. "I don't care about your reputation or what people think of you. But I won't get involved in something that doesn't concern me. Take care of her, call whoever you need to call, but leave me out of it."

Before he could say anything else, Riley walked out of the room, leaving him standing alone with the baby. The door clicked shut behind her, and for the first time that morning, the silence felt heavy. Ali looked down at the baby, who gazed up at him with wide eyes, a tiny hand reaching out as if to grasp the tension lingering in the air.

"Why did she left? isn't this her apartment?"