“What would you like to have for breakfast, sir?”
“Cereals would do,” Carlos replied without glancing up from his screen. He cracked his neck, reaching for his morning black coffee, just the way he likes it.
He’d decided to stay home today, so Taylan’s details were sent to his email, along with how Vincent’s haunting was going so far.
The bastard had fled, hiding.
In a minute, his cereal was bought before him.
“Sir,” The chef called, his voice slightly hesitant.
“What?”
“It’s about little miss. Recently she refuses to let me make meals for her.”
That's when he looked up. “Why are you just telling me this?”
“I’m sorry, I was following your order of doing what she wants.”
“Leave then. I’ll let you know whenever you are needed,” he ordered, and as the chef left, he took the cereal
