(Mia POV) Sunlight dragged me awake. I turned away from the window, burying my face in silk pillows that smelled like lavender and money. My body ached from sleeping in a bed too big, too soft, too everything. The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. I forced myself up, padding barefoot across cold marble toward the dining room. The smell hit me first—eggs, toast, something rich and buttery. Robert stood at the table, setting down plates with careful precision. He looked up when I entered, and his face softened into something almost boyish. "You made this?" I stopped at the doorway. "I try sometimes." He smiled. Actually smiled. "To cook, I mean." I nodded and sat, putting the table between us like a barrier. The spread was ridiculous. Poached eggs with smoked salmon, hollandaise dripping gold over toasted English muffins. Fresh-squeezed juice. A bottle of Bellini sweating condensation. "Eat." His voice was gentle. I picked up my fork. The cutlery clinked against expensive china,
Last Updated : 2025-01-03 Read more