Familiar Strangers

Coming Home

Antonio's POV

Listening to her say she did not look for trouble, I almost believed her. Almost. Whether she looked for it or not, trouble had a way of finding her, and that was a problem.

She finished speaking and walked away, heels sharp against the floor. Still, I could tell she was not as angry as she had been this morning, or even last night.

Left alone in the cubicle, I looked down at the table. My face tightened at the sight of the meals. Spicy dishes. Onions everywhere. Exactly what I hated. My gut told me she had done it on purpose, but I had no proof. No one knew my food preferences, so I swallowed the thought.

I left the restaurant and went straight home.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. Marissa was not there. I went to the study to handle some work stuff.

By the end of the day, she still had not returned. Hunger gnawed at me, sharp and persistent.

I dialed a number, stepped out to have dinner with a friend and when I came back there was still no sign of her.

With a tired sigh, I went upstairs and called it a night.

Just like that, the weekend ended without Marissa ever returning. I guessed she was the type to hold grudges, and it only reinforced what I already thought. She could be irresponsible.

By Monday morning, I left the house for the office, pushing the entire incident to the back of my mind as if it never happened.

Exhausted from the day’s work, I headed home. When I pulled in and noticed an unfamiliar car, I knew immediately that Marissa was back.

Inside, she was stretched out on the couch opposite the entrance, snack in hand, the television turned up louder than necessary. When she saw me, she paused it and walked over.

“Have you had dinner?” she asked.

Well that was unexpected. Though we had breakfast together we have never had any other meal together. Just breakfast. Before I could answer, she turned and headed for the dining area.

I had eaten late, so I was not particularly hungry. Still, I followed her remembering that she liked company when she ate. I took my seat and joined in.

One thing about Marissa was undeniable. She could cook. Whatever discipline I once had with food completely collapsed once I tasted her meals. Maybe it was because I had never really had food that suited my taste before. Either way, I always ended up clearing my plate.

“Do you mind coming back early so we can have dinner together?” she asked.

I looked up at her, surprised.

“The person I usually eat with is out of town,” she added.

For a moment, I wondered who she meant, but I simply nodded.

It seemed we were back to our routine again. Maybe even something more.

had just finished eating and was about to leave when she called out.

“Antonio.”

I paused.

Hearing my name from her again reminded me of the other time she said my name and how it made me feel, I just couldn't put my finger on the little stir of emotion I feel at the sound of my name being said by her. Apart from my grandfather, she was the only one who called me that without hesitation.

In my world, names carried weight. Status mattered. Wealth mattered. Power mattered. I had taken over the company young, built a ruthless reputation, and earned respect even from people older and higher on the social ladder. Everyone addressed me carefully. Formally. With distance.

Yet here was this young miss, barely exposed to society, saying my name so easily. Hmm...maybe that was why she had no hesitation in calling my name.

I turned to her. She pointed at the plate I had just eaten from.

I glanced at it, then back at her, confused.

“You have to at least clear your plate,” she said. “I do it for you in the mornings because I know you’re busy, but from now on, during dinner, you should at least clear it.”

She kept talking, completely unfazed. I must say she's got guts, first casually calling my name and now ordering me to clear my plates.

“I know you’ve never done these things before, so I’m not even asking you to wash it. Just clear it.”

She sounded so casual about it, like she was setting house rules instead of correcting someone who ran an empire.

She was right. I have always had people handle things like that. Still, looking at the plate, I realized it was hardly a big deal. She cooked, after all.

With a slight frown, I picked it up, walked into the kitchen, and placed it in the sink. Then I headed upstairs.

“Goodnight,” she said behind me.

“Mm,” I replied, without turning around.

After freshening up, I retired for the night. Morning came faster than expected.

I got ready and headed downstairs, only to be greeted by a familiar aroma that wrapped around me instantly. Marissa was back. My stomach growled right on cue.

If this continues, I’m going to lose my physique. With the amount of food I’ve been eating lately, I’ll need to add more hours at the gym, I concluded as I walked into the dining room.

The table was already set. Three plates.

I raised an eyebrow as I took my seat, wondering if she was expecting a visitor or if Grandpa was stopping by.

Just then, Marcel walked in and greeted us.

“Good morning.”

“Hey, Marcel. Good morning,” Marissa said. “Have you had breakfast? I made extra.”

That explained the third plate.

“Oh no, it’s okay,” Marcel said quickly.

“But I already made it,” she insisted. “Do you want me to waste food?”

I stayed focused on my meal, though I could feel Marcel glance at me. I ignored him.

After a moment of hesitation, he finally sat down with us.

He took one bite and paused. “Miss, the meal is delicious.”

“Well, thank you,” Marissa replied. “You can join us for breakfast whenever you come to pick him up. I don’t mind, and your boss doesn’t mind either. Right, Antonio?”

I looked up at them briefly, then went back to eating.

“See,” she said. “He doesn’t mind.”

“Thank you, miss,” Marcel said.

“I told you, call me Marissa.”

And just like that, Marcel started joining us for breakfast.