By the time they made it down to the villa's dining room, the scent of breakfast had already filled the air—freshly baked croissants, scrambled eggs with herbs, and coffee rich enough to wake the dead. But instead of appreciating the peaceful morning, Mio was glaring daggers at the man sitting across from her.
Claude, of course, looked infuriatingly fresh. Hair neatly styled, shirt crisp, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the faint bruises on his arms. His smug expression only made Mio's eye twitch.
"You look grumpy this morning," he said cheerfully, pouring coffee into her cup as though she hadn't spent the past five minutes silently murdering him with her stare.
Mio crossed her arms. "I wonder why."
He smiled, entirely too pleased. "Maybe you didn't sleep enough?"
Her fork clinked sharply against the plate. "Didn't sleep enough? Claude, you're the reason I couldn't even walk straight when I got out of bed!"
