Tickled by her own imagination, Alessia leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to Milo’s forehead.
His sleep-ruffled hair tickled her lips.
‘Morning,’ she said softly. ‘Breakfast’s on the table, honey. Aunt Veronica will take you to school later.’
Milo’s eyes fluttered open, still groggy from sleep.
His voice held a hint of protest as he murmured, ‘You’re leaving already? It’s only six thirty.’
Alessia brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, her smile warm and reassuring. ‘Mommy has to go into work early today.’
Her mind buzzed with the tasks that awaited her—she needed to organise her notes from the previous night, to produce a first draft of the cocktail party fluff piece, and to go over the order of upcoming interviews with Miss Hicks.
She was happy to be busy;
