Even as warm as she was, I couldn’t bring myself to smile in return. I didn’t even think my facial muscles worked like that anymore. They, like my heart, broke the moment I’d found Nova in pieces. But I didn’t argue with her as she led the way upstairs. Otto was given a room two doors down from mine, and then she opened the door to my own room.

With the promise of bringing food, Maria left me in the luxurious suite that overlooked the back gardens of the estate. The sun was barely peeking above the horizon, but it cast a soft glow over the shrubs and flowers while a fountain bubbled gently in the center. Turning from the sight, I gave the room a once-over. A huge, four-poster bed with white sheets, comforter, and pillowcases. A small desk with a chair, a wardrobe, a simple dresser with a mirror on top, and then the door to the ensuite. It felt like a hotel room. Clean, but boring. Lifeless.

Much like myself.

Except for the cleanliness. I stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower, wanting to wash away the stickiness of the flight and the alcohol I had started to sweat off. The jets of the shower were powerful and beat against my sore, tired muscles as the water poured over my body.

On autopilot, I went through the process of washing myself before turning off the water and grabbing a towel to wrap around my waist. Taking another out of the cupboard, I used it to dry off as I walked into the bedroom.

A tray was sitting on the small desk. A glass of orange juice was beside a plate with scrambled eggs, lightly browned toast, and slightly crispy bacon. I frowned at the texture of the meat and the color of the bread. They were exactly how I liked them. Even the eggs were perfectly scrambled the way I preferred.

Figuring Garret had informed the housekeeper of how I liked my breakfast, I pushed down the sudden restlessness that filled me and picked up a slice of toast. For months, food had tasted like ash, and I’d had to force down each bite I took. I was surprised when I actually tasted the lightly buttered toast and perfectly salted eggs.

If Maria was the one who’d cooked my breakfast, I might have to take her home with me just so I could eat and Mom would stop worrying so much about me.

Once all the food was gone, I drained the glass of juice before picking up the tray and placing it outside my door. Turning toward the bed, I flipped off the lights and dropped down onto the mattress, tossing the towel aside.

The softness of the sheets made me groan in appreciation. Pulling the covers up to my waist, I bunched up the pillow under my head and closed my eyes. The vodka was still lingering in my system because sleep took me in no time.