The Uber ride to the restaurant was filled with laughter and lighthearted chatter as Emiliano sat between Fia and Mia, his towering presence somehow fitting seamlessly into the cramped backseat. The ladies buzzed with excitement as Emiliano promised that this breakfast would be unlike any other—overflowing mimosas and mouthwatering food at the city’s most exclusive spot.
When they pulled up to Maison Du Matin, the sleek, modern facade made Fia and Mia exchange wide-eyed glances. The large glass windows framed an interior of soft ivory and gold accents, chandeliers that sparkled like diamonds, and tables adorned with fresh flowers in ornate vases.
“Mr. Fancy Pants strikes again,” Fia whispered, nudging Mia, and they both burst into giggles. Emiliano smirked as he opened the door for them, gesturing grandly like a chauffeur.
“Don’t let the decor fool you,” he teased. “The food is the real star here.”
Once inside, they were guided to a secluded table near the floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a stunning view of the city skyline. The menus were heavy, embossed with gold lettering, and the options listed ranged from decadent truffle omelets to a selection of imported pastries.
Mia leaned over to Fia, whispering just loud enough for Emiliano to hear, “I can’t tell if we’re at a restaurant or an art gallery.”
Fia snorted, earning a raised brow from Emiliano. “He’s Mr. Fancy Pants. What else did we expect?”
Even Emiliano couldn’t hold back his laughter as they placed their orders: an assortment of pastries to share, mimosas, and their individual entrees.
As they waited for the food, the trio fell into easy conversation. Emiliano asked Mia about her work, and she launched into a story about a chaotic day at her job as a fashion buyer. She spoke animatedly, her hands moving as she described an incident involving a shipment of mislabeled dresses.
Fia chimed in with her own tale about the time Mia had called her in a panic to help translate an Italian invoice that turned out to be written in Spanish. Emiliano chuckled, noting how seamlessly their friendship seemed to flow.
“I don’t know what I’d do without her,” Mia said sincerely, reaching across the table to squeeze Fia’s hand.
“Me neither,” Fia agreed, a rare softness in her tone that Emiliano hadn’t seen before.
The food arrived, and their plates were works of art—eggs Benedict adorned with edible flowers, golden croissants flaking perfectly at a touch, and a fruit parfait that looked too beautiful to eat. The ladies gasped in delight, snapping pictures before digging in.
While Fia and Mia chattered about their meal, Emiliano’s mind wandered. His gaze lingered on Fia as she laughed, the light catching in her hair and making her look ethereal. But his thoughts darkened quickly.
How would she react when he told her the truth? Over the years, pop culture had shifted human perceptions of the supernatural. Movies and shows romanticized the idea of vampires, werewolves, and creatures that lurked in the shadows. But the reality was far grittier, far more dangerous. Would she believe him? Or would she recoil in fear?
His chest tightened as he considered the consequences of last night. The mark on her shoulder wasn’t just a symbol—it was a bond, an irreversible claim. And her body… her body would soon begin to change. The possibility of pregnancy loomed in his mind, and the thought terrified him.
“Are you okay?”
Fia’s voice snapped him back to the present. She was watching him with a furrowed brow, her tone laced with concern.
“Yes,” he replied quickly, forcing a small smile. “Just a lot on my mind.”
“Anything I can help with?” she asked, her sincerity catching him off guard.
Before he could answer, Mia returned from the bathroom, and the moment passed. Emiliano leaned closer to Fia and whispered, “We’ll talk about it later. In private.”
Fia nodded, understanding the weight behind his words, though a flicker of curiosity crossed her features. She straightened in her seat and smiled at Mia, who plopped back down, declaring she wasn’t nearly tipsy enough.
“Not tipsy?” Emiliano repeated, raising a brow. He signaled the waiter. “Let’s fix that.”
A fresh round of mimosas arrived, and the mood lightened again. Mia leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “So, Emiliano, tell me more about you. What’s your family like?”
He hesitated for a moment, then began to speak. “My father is… a strong man. Proud. Everything I’ve learned about business, I learned from him.”
His face softened as he spoke of his father, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small, proud smile.
“And your brother?” Mia asked, noticing the shift in his tone when he mentioned family.
Emiliano’s smile faltered, but before he could answer, Fia interjected, her tone sharp. “His brother’s an ass.”
Mia’s eyes widened in mock scandal. “Fia! You didn’t!”
“Oh, I did,” Fia said with a laugh, sipping her mimosa. “He was bad-mouthing Emiliano and trying to hit on me during our date, so I slapped him.”
Mia’s jaw dropped, her eyes darting between them. “You slapped his brother? During your date?”
“Yep,” Emiliano confirmed with a chuckle.
“In my defense,” Fia added, grinning, “he deserved it.”
The three of them burst into laughter, the kind that left them clutching their sides and wiping away tears.
An hour later, Mia declared it was time for her to go, thanking Emiliano for the meal and the mimosas.
“You’re welcome anytime,” he replied warmly, ordering her an Uber.
When the car arrived, she hugged Fia tightly and whispered something that made her laugh, then waved Emiliano off with a grin.
Once she was gone, Emiliano turned to Fia. “Ready to go?”
“Ready,” she said, though there was a nervous energy in her voice.
As they climbed into their Uber, the lightheartedness of breakfast faded. Emiliano’s chest tightened again as he prepared himself for the conversation waiting for them at her apartment. The truth couldn’t wait any longer.