the sitter | lewandowski

one

1 ; call me Robert
a/n (2020) : ok just gonna repeat it so everyone knows, I wrote this when I was like 16 and my writing was not optimal but this is a cute lil story so just read at your own discretion😭

Saoirse woke up on Monday, August 4th, with only one thought on her mind: shit. It was almost noon, and on her first day as Robert's babysitter, she was late.

No, it wasn't the man himself that she was babysitting. But when someone'd rang on his doorbell and left, leaving him to curiously open it, he was greeted with a bittersweet surprise—a baby girl, more than half a year old, simply sitting there in a basket—what on earth was he supposed to do?

At first he was going to put her up for adoption. After all, there was no reason for him to believe that the child was his. It was probably some random woman who'd searched up his address on the internet until she actually got it, and then decided to leave the baby on the steps.

Yet still, a day or two passed by in which Saoirse's mother, Roisin—Robert's next door neighbor—cared for the baby girl.

Robert knew, by the end of those two days, that there was no way he could deny that the baby—named Nova, by whoever'd left her on his steps—had his eyes and his hair color. And after Roisin managed to find a photo of a younger Robert on the Internet and then compared the two, it was simply decided; Nova was his daughter and Robert Lewandowski was officially a father. (Just to make sure, yes, there was a DNA test).

But he was a single one at that. Which posed an issue: if he was never home, then how on earth was he going to care for the baby? He would've offered to pay Roisin, but the mother was already a working woman herself; after all, she was barely in her forties. And he could've asked his personal assistant, but she was practically the one who babysat Robert.

So Roisin volunteered her daughter, the oh-so-lovely Saoirse—who Robert had always found peculiarly intriguing in appearance, however he had never spoken to her—to do the job.

Now, when I say peculiar, I don't mean odd—in a bad way, anyways. However Saoirse looked different from all of the other girls her age; appearing mature with a relaxed and cool facial expression that gave off the impression that everything to her was rather blasé.

Standing proudly at five feet and nine inches, Saoirse was on the thinner side, but one wouldn't really look at her and immediately classify her body as that—thin or skinny. Her legs were long and she had a confident stride along with long and flowy brown hair that was pin straight and parted down the middle, never to the side. She usually had slightly winged eyeliner to decorate her large and alluring blue eyes along with mascara to accentuate her long eyelashes, a thin nose and averagely sized pink lips.

A sixties girl, Robert suddenly realized. A flower child. She looks like the muse for a Beatles love song, or perhaps an innocent Rolling Stones groupie. She was the type of girl that you glanced at and the word lovely simply crept into your mind.

But she did not want this job. At only seventeen years old, Saoirse could think of much better ways to be ending her summer. Like, for example, sleeping in.

Which brings us back to the start: shit.

It was noon, and Robert said he had to be at the Allianz Arena by one because, as the CEO of the stadium's (and one of the team's) sponsoring company and a huge Bayern Munich fan, it was only right to watch the preseason match against Real Madrid.

So Saoirse quickly got up and threw on the first thing she saw in her very vintage-inspired wardrobe; a form-fitting but not tight black minidress that was her aunts in the late sixties and matching black knee-high boots were perfectly paired together on the seventeen-year old's figure before she was finally done with her makeup and ready to go.

Robert must've not been too in a rush, for he took his sweet time opening the door upon hearing the doorbell ring. When he did, however, open it, he was rather surprised with the sight that greeted him; Saoirse was certainly something different.

"Hi," Is all she spoke, in an accent from a country unbeknownst to Robert. The girl spoke poor German, so her and Robert communicated in English. "Sorry that I am late—is the baby ready for me?" With a forced eagerness, she strolled past him and into the house.

Robert closed the door and turned around, following her figure. Her outfit was so vintage it almost looked like it could be a costume, but someone like her could probably get away with this in public. "It's fine, just don't be late next time. Nova kept me so busy—"

"Which reminds me," Saoirse mindlessly interrupted the Pole. "Where is she? I've been...dying to meet her," She spoke, still forcing the smile on her lips.

Robert smiled proudly. "Well, I finally got her to sleep. You know, she's been up all night, so maybe you're lucky—she'll be out like a light for the majority of today. Anyways, a list of regulations and such regarding the caretaking of Nova has been pinned to my refrigerator. Until she wakes up, my house is your house—just, please, don't invite any boys over."

"Not to worry," Saoirse fingered one of the roses that sat in a decorative vase. "I've none to call."

Robert ran a hand through his short hair. "Well no girls, either. I left my niece in the house alone for a day once and she thought that she could get away with inviting her entire grade over."

Saoirse bit her lip. She remembered that night quite well; she couldn't sleep at all and ended up failing her maths test the next day.

Though she hated to admit it, that was probably why she wasn't looking forward to working for Robert. She had always felt a twinge of annoyance when it came to thinking about the businessman, for he always seemed to have something going on in that large mansion of his. Then again, that was before Nova entered his life.

"Right. Well," Robert looked at the shiny rolex that sat on his wrist. "I have a game to go to, the first of the season. I'm a huge Bayern Munich fan."

Saoirse rose her eyebrows. "So I've heard. What is it exactly that you do for a living?" She began to walk around the living room, trailing her finger along the wall.

Robert's blue eyes followed the teenager with a dash of curiosity—she seemed up to something. "I'm a CEO," He stated.

No wonder, Saoirse thought. She felt her entire body burn as she looked up at Robert. In her opinion, he didn't really look like the stereotypical CEO—his demeanor simply didn't scream Christian Grey or
Playboy. But she he did look like he could be a serious man.

Playfully, Robert spoke again. "What do you do for a living?"

Saoirse motioned to the room. "I do whatever you want me to, of course."

Robert smiled a little more. "I wish that I could chat some more, Saoirse..." After all, he didn't know the girl very well, and he was practically trusting her with his eight month old daughter's life. "However I really must get going. Thank you again, for doing this for me." Though we both know that you're doing it for the money, he thought. After all, he was paying the girl an extremely generous amount by the hour.

Saoirse nodded. Indeed, she was thinking the same thing—that she was only in it for the money—especially because, in all honesty, she had never quite caught onto all of the hype over adorable babies and cute children. But maybe I'll get something more from this than just money, she thought.

"It's no problem." She finally spoke, placing her hand on her hip. But what's a handsome man like you doing without a wife? "I hope you enjoy the match, Mr. Lewandowski."

"Please," Robert tore his blue eyes away from hers with the slightest hint of difficulty. His next words were ones he  didn't say often; especially to the people who worked for him—"Just call me Robert."