Sire

Chapter Eight

Emiliano buttoned his shirt with practiced ease, pulling on his pants and smoothing them over before glancing at the bedroom mirror. He ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to adopt a composed expression. Confidence, even if false, was better than the chaos currently spinning in his mind. He’d already made quite the impression on Mia—one he wasn’t eager to repeat.

With a deep breath, he stepped out of the bedroom and strode into the living room. The sight of Mia’s absence gave him a moment of pause before he remembered her last flustered words about waiting outside. Emiliano let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he approached the door.

He opened it to find Mia standing a few feet away, arms crossed, her back turned. She glanced over her shoulder when she heard the creak of the door, her stance relaxing when she saw he was fully dressed.

“Would you like to join us for breakfast?” Emiliano offered smoothly, his tone warm.

Mia raised a brow but allowed a small grin to creep across her face. “As long as you keep your clothes on,” she quipped, laughing at her own joke.

Emiliano let out a laugh of his own, shaking his head. “Deal.”

Mia followed him back inside, settling into her usual spot on the couch as though she owned the place. Emiliano made his way to the kitchen, glancing around in search of breakfast options. It didn’t take long for him to realize Fia’s kitchen was…lacking.

“Does she not stock her fridge?” he muttered under his breath as he opened the near-empty refrigerator. He moved to the cabinets, finding little more than a few cans of soup and an unopened jar of peanut butter.

“She’s not much of a cook,” Mia said with a shrug, as if reading his thoughts.

“Can’t cook, or doesn’t want to?” Emiliano asked, casting a glance over his shoulder.

“Doesn’t like to,” Fia’s voice cut in as she emerged from the bedroom, looking freshly showered and dressed, her hair still damp. She gave him a mock glare.

Mia grinned and leaned back on the couch, her voice taking on a teasing tone. “If her grandmother saw the state of her cabinets and fridge, she’d have a fit. Fia would be in so much trouble.”

Fia narrowed her eyes at Mia in mock indignation. “Well, thank goodness the good Lord called her home, then, huh?”

Emiliano, who had been inspecting the last cabinet, turned to look at Fia with a soft, amused smile. “Okay, so this is what we’re going to do: we’re going out to breakfast. My treat.”

Mia practically jumped off the couch, already grabbing her bag. “Sold!” she chirped, grinning at Emiliano. As they headed for the door, she leaned closer to Fia, but her not-so-quiet whisper carried straight to him. “I like him. He’s good to both of us.”

Fia rolled her eyes, nudging Mia playfully. Emiliano’s lips twitched with a faint smile as he held the door open for them both. If nothing else, he was determined to keep the mood light—because soon enough, the weight of the truth would come crashing down.