Chapter 11: Breakfast With a Stranger

I had never expected to share breakfast with a man who could make silence feel like a punishment.

But there I was, standing at the entrance of Alexander Blackwood's dining room, wondering whether I should turn around and pretend I had forgotten something upstairs.

He was already seated at the table.

Of course he was.

Alexander wore a perfectly fitted navy shirt, with the sleeves buttoned neatly at his wrists. His dark hair was in place, his phone rested beside his coffee, and a newspaper lay open in front of him.

A silver watch shone on his wrist.

He looked as though he had been ready for the day since sunrise.

I, on the other hand, was wearing black leggings, a loose cream sweater, and slippers. My hair was tied into a messy bun, and I hadn't even bothered to check whether it looked presentable.

He glanced up.

“Good morning.”

I stopped.

“Good morning.”

I walked towards the table and took the seat opposite him.

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then I looked at his plate.

“Do you always eat breakfast like you're attending a business meeting?”

He lowered his newspaper.

“What does that mean?”

“You look very serious.”

“I'm eating.”

“Exactly. You look like you're negotiating with the toast.”

His eyes remained on me.

Then, surprisingly, the corner of his mouth moved.

“Would you prefer I smile at it?”

I laughed before I could stop myself.

“Maybe. It might taste better.”

He returned to his coffee.

I reached for the menu card beside my plate. There were several breakfast options written in neat handwriting.

“Do you have anything normal?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Define normal.”

“Eggs. Bread. Tea. Something that doesn't sound like it belongs in a hotel for millionaires.”

“You're welcome to ask the kitchen for whatever you want.”

I looked towards the doorway.

“Can I have fried eggs and toast?”

Alexander pressed a small button beside his chair.

A moment later, a housekeeper appeared.

“Good morning, sir.”

“Miss Carter would like fried eggs and toast. And tea.”

I turned towards him.

“Actually, coffee is fine.”

He looked at me.

“You don't drink coffee?”

“Not usually. It makes me nervous.”

He nodded towards the housekeeper.

“Tea, then.”

The woman left.

I stared at him.

“You remembered that?”

“You mentioned it yesterday.”

I blinked.

I hadn't expected him to remember such a small detail.

“Thank you.”

He picked up his newspaper again.

“Don't make it a big thing.”

I looked down at the table, hiding a small smile.

It wasn't a big thing.

But it was unexpected.

Breakfast arrived a few minutes later.

My plate held two fried eggs, toast, and sliced tomatoes. A cup of tea sat beside it.

Alexander continued eating his usual breakfast of eggs, fruit, and black coffee.

I took a bite of toast.

Then another.

He glanced at me.

“Good?”

“Very.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I've eaten enough burnt toast in my life to appreciate good cooking.”

He looked at me.

“You cooked?”

“Of course. I couldn't afford to order food every day.”

“What did you usually make?”

“Whatever was available. Sometimes rice. Sometimes noodles. Sometimes something my mother taught me.”

“You enjoy cooking?”

I shrugged.

“I enjoy eating. Cooking is sometimes necessary.”

He gave a quiet nod.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Can you cook?”

“No.”

I nearly dropped my fork.

“You can't cook?”

“I have people who cook.”

“That wasn't my question.”

He took a sip of coffee.

“I can make coffee.”

“Congratulations.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Are you always this difficult in the morning?”

“Only when someone asks too many questions.”

“Then we're going to have a difficult arrangement.”

I smiled.

For a few minutes, the conversation became surprisingly easy.

I asked him whether he always woke up early.

“Five-thirty.”

I stared at him.

“Why?”

“Work.”

“That's not a reason. That's a punishment.”

He ignored me.

“What time do you wake up?”

“Whenever I have to.”

“That's not an answer.”

“See? It's annoying when someone does it to you.”

He shook his head.

I laughed again.

It felt strange.

For a few minutes, I wasn't thinking about the flash drive in my handbag, the threats on my phone, or the payment made to my father.

I was simply having breakfast.

Then Alexander asked, “Do you still intend to study interior design?”

I looked up.

“Yes.”

“Have you chosen a school?”

“Not yet. I had to put everything on hold when my mother's health got worse.”

He nodded.

“I spoke to Victoria.”

My fork stopped halfway to my mouth.

“About what?”

“She'll arrange a meeting with two colleges. You can review their courses and decide whether either suits you.”

I stared at him.

“You arranged that?”

“I said you could continue studying.”

“I know. I just didn't think you'd actually do anything.”

He placed his coffee cup down.

“If I agree to something, I usually follow through.”

I looked at him carefully.

“Thank you.”

“It's part of the agreement.”

There it was.

The contract.

The money.

The arrangement.

I looked down at my plate.

“Right. Of course.”

His expression changed slightly.

“Not everything has to be a negotiation, Amelia.”

“Maybe not. But that's how this started.”

He didn't argue.

And somehow, that silence felt heavier than the earlier ones.

When I finished eating, I reached for my cup.

Unfortunately, my sleeve caught the edge of it.

The tea tipped sideways.

I grabbed the cup, but not before a little liquid spilled across the table and onto the white cloth.

“Oh, no!”

I quickly reached for a napkin.

Alexander moved his phone away.

“Careful.”

“I'm sorry.”

The housekeeper appeared almost immediately.

“It's all right, Miss Carter. I'll clean it.”

My cheeks burned.

“I can do it.”

“Please, let me.”

I stepped back, embarrassed.

Alexander watched me.

“Are you finished attacking the furniture?”

I turned towards him.

“Don't start.”

“I was beginning to think the table had offended you.”

I stared at him.

Then I burst out laughing.

A real laugh.

His expression softened for a moment before he looked away.

“You should be more careful,” he said.

“I'll try not to destroy your mansion before lunchtime.”

“Appreciated.”

After breakfast, I returned to the sitting room with a book.

I had barely settled into the chair when Victoria appeared.

“Miss Carter, the colleges have confirmed that they can meet you tomorrow.”

I looked up.

“Already?”

“Yes. Mr. Blackwood asked me to arrange it.”

“Thank you, Victoria.”

She gave a professional smile.

“Of course.”

I hesitated.

“Can I ask you something?”

“That depends on the question.”

I smiled faintly.

“Is Alexander always like this?”

“Like what?”

“Organized. Serious. Impossible to surprise.”

Victoria considered the question.

“He wasn't always exactly like this.”

I sat forward.

“What was he like before?”

Her expression became guarded.

“People change.”

Before I could ask more, a voice came from the entrance hall.

“Alexander!”

It was a man's voice.

Deep, confident, and familiar.

Victoria straightened.

“That's unexpected.”

I looked towards the hallway.

A few seconds later, a man entered the sitting room.

He was tall, with dark blond hair, an expensive grey suit, and a friendly smile. He carried a leather briefcase in one hand.

His eyes moved across the room before settling on me.

He stopped.

The smile disappeared.

“Amelia Carter?”

I slowly stood.

“Yes?”

He looked at me as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Then he turned towards the staircase.

“Why are you living in Alexander Blackwood's house?”

My stomach tightened.

I recognized him now.

He was the man who had approached Daniel outside school.

The same man Daniel had described to me after the break-in.

And before I could ask how he knew my name, Alexander appeared behind him.

His expression turned dangerously cold.

“Get away from her, Sebastian.”