Page 20 of Billionaire Unbroken - Asher
As soon as she put my breakfast in front of me, I said gruffly, “Make yourself a plate and sit. You need to eat.”
Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “There’s not enough food.”
Annoyed, I got to my feet, found a plate, and filled it with the eggs, potatoes, and sausages that were still on the stove.
I grabbed utensils, a napkin, and plopped everything onto the table. “Eat,” I said firmly.
She looked flustered as she stammered, “B-but what if you want more?”
“Have I ever asked you for more food?” I asked as I sat and looked at the heaping plate of food in front of me.
She always served me a very hearty breakfast, probably way more than I needed.
“No,” she said cautiously. “But there could always be a first time.”
“There won’t be,” I replied as I motioned to her plate. “Sit and eat or you’re fired.”
She smiled. “You’re not going to fire me if I don’t eat.”
I cocked a brow in challenge. “I might. Sit. Grab some coffee if you want it.”
She sighed, and I knew I’d won this battle.
It was about damn time.
Even though I’d told her to buy enough food for both of us, she’d been doing things the same way she always did, and those habits needed to change.
It wouldn’t kill her to eat breakfast with me, and then I’d know for sure that she’d eaten something in the morning.
“I think I’ll take that coffee,” she said as she started a cup brewing for herself.
“You’re tired today,” I commented.
She sent me a surprised glance. “How did you know that?”
I shrugged. “It shows. Busy weekend?”
She nodded. “I was working on a project. I stayed up a little too late last night. I’m sorry. It won’t interfere with my job. I’ll still get everything done.”
My gut ached when I heard a small hitch of apprehension in her voice.
Hell, did she really think I was going to give her shit if she had one day when she was tired?
I had plenty of them because I didn’t always sleep well.
Tired or not, Sierra was way too anal about getting every single task done.
“Do you really think I’m worried that you’ll slack off?” I asked drily. “Nobody is perfect every single day. We’re human. I have days when I’m off and tired. I get my work done. I’m just a bigger asshole than usual.”
She smiled as she brought her coffee to the table and sat down across from me.
The table in the little kitchen nook was small. It only had two seats, but it was big enough for both of us.
“I’ll try not to be grumpy,” she said teasingly, watching me as I dug into my food. In a more sober voice, she asked, “Insomnia or nightmares?”
I watched as Sierra started to eat, eyeing her cautiously. “What do you mean?”
She swallowed. “Is it insomnia or nightmares that keep you awake at night? Maybe it’s not my place to ask, but I recognize some of the symptoms of PTSD. I was just curious.”
