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“Congratulations for being one of the many Brits who consume unhealthy amounts of it.”
“You don’t. You prefer coffee.”
“Which is why my staff call me the Americanized Sterling behind my back, too. So we’re mates, you and I. Congratulations again.”
She stares at me while squeezing a packet of something green floating in a snot-like liquid. Please tell me she’s just checking it out of curiosity and not actually going to take that.
“Have your staff stayed in the mansion all these years?”
“All eleven Christmases of them without a single present from yours truly.”
“But why?”
“They come with the mansion.”
“But they’re people.”
“Extremely annoying ones with a sense of loyalty that resembles a samurai’s second hand. You know, the one that finishes them off after they disembowel themselves. In my case, if I choose to go, they would poison my coffee.”
“Why?”
“They hate that stuff. Last I heard, it’s considered blasphemy to prefer it over tea.”
“No, I mean why did you keep them?”
“I didn’t. They were technically fired eleven years ago, but they’re more stubborn than my ‘I couldn’t care less’ attitude.”
“Who pays them, then?”
“My brother, through my owned shares. He’s been managing the whole thing and probably bribed them with premium Chinese tea to be a thorn in my side.”
“They must’ve been so lonely, serving a mansion without a master.”
“Uh, hello? Did you miss the part where they drink tea to gossip about us?”
“You disappeared for eleven years, then came back out of the blue. You should be thankful they even welcomed you in.”
“There was a keyword you missed. It’smymansion.”
“That they lived in more than you. It’s such a beautiful property, but you abandoned it without looking back.”
“I don’t particularly get attached to places.”
“I noticed that.” Her tone softens. “I bet you don’t even consider your penthouse a home.”
“It’s just a house.”
“Then where’s your home, Daniel?”
Right in front of me.
Wait. What?
What in the actual fuck was that thought all about? I didn’t just think of Nicole as my home.
I simply didn’t.
“Nowhere,” I grumble, my grip hardening on the trolley.
