Asher turned to look at his mother, who had a bright smile on her face as she reached the table, her eyes fixed on the girl having breakfast with her son.
Aria didn’t know if she was supposed to run, laugh, or better still disappear.
She smiled awkwardly as she stood up from her chair, bending her head at Asher’s mother.
She didn’t need a seer to tell her who she was. The woman was beautiful; she looked like she had been a model when she was younger – or still was.
Considering her exquisite and expensive taste, she looked so womanly, with rare features, just like her son.
“Hello, ma’am,” Aria said with a slight bow, painfully aware of the shirt she was wearing.
She suddenly regretted not wearing something else.
As she stood up, the older woman looked at her with slight surprise
