The knock on the door came just as Liam was stretching lazily on the bed.
"Room service," a polite voice called.
He rose and walked to the living room where he was greeted by a staff member in a sharp uniform pushing in a polished cart draped with white linen. The aroma from the items on the cart filled his nose immediately.
The staff member laid everything out carefully on the low dining table by the window before bowing slightly and retreating.
"Merci, monsieur," Liam replied softly, fluently and flawlessly, with his World-Class Etiquette skill making his tone carry just the right balance of courtesy and warmth.
Once the door shut, he sat down before the spread.
There was nothing overly elaborate about the meal—just a plate of eggs benedict, a side of rösti potatoes crisped to golden perfection, smoked trout with a slice of lemon, a small basket of croissants, and a carafe of freshly squeezed orange juice.
But to Liam, it wasn't "just breakfast."
