JEROME POV
Julia’s plate is already cleared, gleaming without remnants of the meal. I always find it charming how quickly she eats, her delightfully full cheeks stuffed with food as she savors each bite. It’s an endearing sight.
“Miguel mentioned your encounter with Vincent,” I say, gauging her reaction.
Her expression changes, and she freezes for a moment, swallowing hard as if the topic has lodged itself in her throat.
“I didn’t want to burden you with my problems,” she replies, taking a sip of her wine, the deep red liquid glistening in the morning light.
“You don’t have to worry, I handled it,” she adds, her voice steady as she sets the glass back down with a soft clink against the table.
I take a moment of silence,
“Go get dressed. I’m taking you somewhere.”
She blinks. “Wher
