Page 21 of Abandoned By My Alpha Husband

"Your Majesty." The maid announced me quietly, then retreated. He glanced up. Barely a glance—his eyes touched my face for a split second, then dropped back to his papers. I stood in the doorway, gripped my skirt, then walked in and sat to his right.

"Morning," I said, curtsying the way I'd learned at the Gray house.

"Morning."

He didn't look up. I stared at his profile. Time had smoothed some of the youthful edges and added mature depth. Sunlight streamed through the windows, catching his fingers as they held the pen. I remembered those hands gripping my waist, pressing me into the couch. The heat of his fingers. His voice in my ear—"Remember who makes you this wet." My heart skipped. I dropped my gaze, picked up my teacup, and scalded my tongue.

"Do you always... eat this early?" I tried.

He turned a page. "Not always."

He'd answered. Not warmly, but it was a start.

"Then—"

"You don't need to worry about my schedule." He cut me off, voice flat, emotionless. "Eat. Don't wait for me."

My fingers tightened around the cup. "Okay."

He kept reading. I sat beside him, quietly eating. The chef had made eggs, bacon, toast, and a small bowl of fruit. It tasted fine, but I couldn't really taste it. Occasionally, I glanced at him. He never looked up. Like I wasn't there. Until a maid came in and whispered something in his ear. He set down his papers and looked at me.

"Liam's coming," Lucifer said. "He eats breakfast here every day around this time."

My heart pounded harder. "Okay."

He didn't say more. I gripped my fork, then released it. The door opened. A maid led in a small boy. Liam wore a blue shirt and shorts, hair still sticking up like he'd just woken up. He looked sleepy, but when he saw Lucifer, his eyes lit up. He called out "Daddy," then saw me—the light died instantly, replaced by wariness.

"What are you doing here?" He stopped in the doorway, little face tense.

"Liam." Lucifer set down his papers. "Come eat."

He didn't move. The maid knelt and coaxed him gently. He turned his head away, gripping the door frame. I took a breath, stood, and walked over. Crouched in front of him. He stared at me, lips pressed into a line.

"Good morning, Liam," I said softly. "I helped with your breakfast. There are things you like—"

"I don't want you to!" He cut me off and shoved me hard. I lost my balance, stumbled back, and caught myself with my hands. He didn't even look, just ran past and climbed into the chair next to Lucifer, and turned his face to the window.

"Liam—" Lucifer's voice stretched out, clearly displeased. "Apologize."

Liam said nothing. He climbed up without letting the maid help. A kid's way of showing he was upset.

I stood, brushed off my palms, and returned to my seat. The maid set breakfast in front of Liam—a bowl of oatmeal with honey and fruit on the side, soft toast, golden and fragrant, and milk in a dinosaur cup.

Food any kid would love at first sight.

But Liam glanced at it and pushed away his spoon. Lucifer looked down at him. "What's wrong?"

"Don't wanna eat."

"You barely ate yesterday, either."

"Just don't wanna," Liam mumbled. "Daddy, feed me."

Lucifer sighed, exasperated but firm. "Liam, what did I say? You eat by yourself now. And boys don't act spoiled."

Liam ignored him, squirming in his seat. "I want you to feed me."

His tone turned stubborn. Lucifer frowned. "No. Either eat or don't."