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“Are you usually a morning person?” I ask like an idiot. She giggles faintly.
“Where I’m from, you don’t have a choice in being a morning person or not. Your butt better get up and help out with the morning chores,” she laughs.
“Ah. I see,” I chuckle. “So you grew up on a farm?”
“Sadly, yes. Not a big farm though,” she assures me and I see her shake her head out of the corner of my eye. “I don’t think we ever had more than a hundred cows at one time.”
“That’s a lot of damn cows.”
“That’s nothing compared to the big farms.”
“Ah. I see.”
“That’s like your catchphrase when you don’t know what to say, huh?” she asks.
“Is it?” I laugh.
“Sorry. That was super rude,” she groans.
“Not rude at all. I find your honesty refreshing.”
It’s the truth. Not many people are this blunt with me. But then again, that’s my fault. Or maybe it’s my father’s fault since he created me into this monster. He taught me to rule with an iron fist and never show anyone my weaknesses or let them question my weaknesses.
“But still, I need to be more mindful,” she sighs. “You’re like a… Well, I’m not sure what your title is exactly; however, I know it’s an important one and scares the hell out of those who work for you.”
“Scares them?”
“Ugh. There I go again. Sorry. I got very little sleep and I’m nervous.”
“Relax, Mia,” I say, placing my hand on the small of her back. She tenses briefly and then relaxes in the next breath. We continue walking through the hallway, small-chatting about nothing of importance.
When we arrive at the dining room, the dining staff is lined up inside, waiting to serve breakfast. Mia looks around and blushes as I escort her to her seat. Once she is seated, I take my seat at the head of the table and signal for breakfast to be served.
Mia watches with wide eyes as the staff sets our places, serves the food, and fills our glasses. The staff acknowledges me and leaves the room. I pick up my fork but notice Mia is looking around the table at the empty chairs.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Do you always eat alone?” she looks at me with sad eyes.
“Not always,” I shrug. “Sometimes I eat with family. Other times with my closest friends.”
“Oh, good,” she smiles and grabs her fork. “I was starting to feel sad, picturing you eating all by yourself.”
She begins to eat as though her words weren’t the sweetest thing I had ever heard. She actually felt compassion towards me. Nico Santoro. When was the last time anyone truly gave a damn about me? I was heir to the Santoro Family and nothing more. My sole purpose for existing was to carry on the family name and follow in my father’s footsteps.
“Did I say something wrong again?” Mia’s soft words break my thoughts. I look over at her and smile.
“Your words were perfect. Just what I needed to hear,” I take a bite of eggs.
She doesn’t seem to believe what I’ve said but doesn’t question me. She simply goes back to eating. Another thing I like about her. Most women would nag me about what I meant, or ask if I was really telling the truth; not me. She lets my answers be just that– answers. No explanations needed.
After breakfast, we take a walk around the garden. Mia admires the flowers as though they’re the first time she’s ever seen flowers. I know that’s not the case, she just likes appreciating life like the sayingStop to smell the rosessays to do.
“Ooh. There’s even a swing?” she beams with a smile and heads over to the bench swing. “Doesn’t look like anyone has sat on it in a while.”
“That’s because no one has,” I laugh, walking over to her. I look the swing over. It’s covered in rust. “Don’t sit on it. I’ll have someone go buy a new one.”
I take my phone out and message Basque to have someone get a new swing for the garden within the hour. Once the message is sent, I put my phone back in my pocket. Mia is staring at me.
