Page 70

“You shouldn’t be eating breakfast outside the house. Lunch is understandable because you’re at work, but breakfast…” She shakes her head. “You have a home, Roman. You have a full staff, an incredible chef, and Sofía makes enough food to feed an army. You should actually enjoy the things you pay for instead of grabbing breakfast somewhere else.”

A reluctant smile threatens to appear. She’s lecturing me. Nobody lectures me.

“I happen to be a busy man,” I remind her. “Surely you don’t expect me to play house.”

I deliberately make my tone dismissive. I expect her to get pissed. Part of me wants her to. If she gets upset and leaves, it will be easier to keep the distance I’ve been forcing between us. Being this close to her is already testing my control.

Instead, she only smiles. “Of course I understand you’re busy. You have a lot of work. Even if you can’t manage both breakfast and dinner, maybe just one of them.”

Something uncomfortable twists in my chest. It feels too much like she’s lowering her expectations just to get a scrap of my time, and I hate that I’ve made her sound like that.

“I can’t promise that,” I admit quietly.

She nods without disappointment. “Can you at least take ten or fifteen minutes for lunch?” she asks. “That’s all I’m asking.”

I glance at the basket she’s holding. “What did you bring me for lunch?”

She begins setting out the food, laying out neatly packed containers one after another until the coffee table is covered with food.

I look at the spread before looking back at her. “You didn’t have to do this.”

She shrugs. “I wanted to.”

She finishes arranging everything before handing me a plate.

“Aren’t you eating?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I already had lunch.”

“So this is all for me?”

“Mhm.”

I glance toward the basket. “Are you going to wait, or do you have somewhere else to be?”

She settles comfortably into the sofa opposite mine. “I’ll wait,” she says. “I can take the dishes back with me.”

“You could leave them here,” I say. “Someone will send them back to the house.”

“No need for that, they can be sent home.” She smiles again. “I don’t mind waiting.”

She pulls out a sketch pad from her bag and settles back against the sofa. “I’ll just get a little work done while you eat,” she says.

I study her for another long moment before finally giving in. I pick up my fork and take the first bite of the grilled chicken and roasted vegetables. “This tastes great.”

“You have Sofía to thank,” her eyes not leaving her sketch pad. “Ever since she found out I was bringing you lunch, she put a lot of care into preparing this meal.”

“Yeah, she always knows what I like to eat. But anyway, what are you drawing?” I ask between bites.

“Just a sketch. Something that came to mind.”

I close the lunch basket after finishing the last bite and lean back against the sofa. Aurora has gone quiet, one leg tucked beneath her, completely absorbed in the sketchpad resting on her lap. A loose strand of hair keeps falling across her cheek, and every few seconds she blows it away without looking up.

Her pencil moves in quick strokes, stopping only when she narrows her eyes at whatever she’s trying to capture.

“Can I see?”

Her head snaps up. “No.”