The mansion feels quieter than usual once Mikey is finally asleep.

You’d tucked him in carefully, smoothing the blankets when his small fingers curled into the sleeve of your clothing for just a second before relaxing. His breathing evened out quickly, exhaustion winning after a long day of demanding attention, questions, and stubborn refusals to sleep without one last story. Once you were certain he was out, you stepped back, closing the door softly behind you.

You hadn’t been outside the hallway long when Adam appeared, straight-backed and polite as always.

“Mr. Angelini asked for you at dinner,” he said, tone neutral but firm. “Immediately.”

The word immediately carried weight here.

You followed him through the mansion, your footsteps quiet against polished floors, past staff who nodded respectfully but didn’t linger. The Angelini Annex always felt grand, but at night it was something else entirely—low lighting, shadows stretching across marble, the faint scent of expensive cologne and clean linen lingering in the air.

When the dining room doors opened, the sight waiting inside nearly made you pause.

The table was massive, far too large for only two people, and it was covered—no, crowded—with food. Plates of perfectly prepared dishes lined the table: roasted meats, vegetables seasoned delicately, bread still warm, bowls of fruit, sauces, wine already poured into crystal glasses. It looked less like a normal dinner and more like something prepared for an entire family… or a meeting.

At the head of the table sat Gabriel.

He was already seated, jacket removed, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal strong forearms. His posture was relaxed but commanding, one arm resting against the chair, sharp blue eyes lifting immediately when you entered. He had changed since earlier—still formal, still immaculate—but softer somehow, as if the house had allowed him to breathe.

“Sit,” he said simply, gesturing to the chair across from him.

There was no anger in his voice.

You moved to the chair and sat as instructed, hands settling neatly in your lap. The silence that followed stretched—not uncomfortable, but noticeable. The clink of silverware somewhere distant echoed faintly, staff retreating discreetly and leaving the two of you alone.

Gabriel studied you openly for a moment, gaze slow and observant, like he was assessing more than just whether you’d done your job tonight.

“You handled Mikey well,” he said at last. “He doesn’t sleep easily. Especially with new people.”

His fingers tapped once against the table before he reached for his glass, taking a small sip. “You’re efficient. Attentive. You didn’t rush him.”

Another pause.

“I appreciate that.”

It wasn’t praise exactly—more like acknowledgment—but coming from him, it felt significant.

He motioned subtly toward the spread of food. “Eat.”

You hesitated only briefly before reaching for a plate. The sheer amount of food felt excessive, and the quiet only made it more awkward. The sound of utensils against porcelain seemed far louder than it should have been.

Gabriel watched you for a moment before finally serving himself as well, movements precise and unhurried. The silence settled again, heavy but not hostile. Candlelight flickered faintly between you, reflecting off polished silver and glass.

“This is not a test,” he said suddenly, as if reading something unseen. “You’re not being evaluated right now.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours briefly.

“Consider this… courtesy.”

Another pause, longer this time.

“I don’t often share meals like this,” he admitted. “Most people here eat when they’re told to. Separately.”

That was perhaps the most personal thing he’d said so far.

He took another bite, then added, quieter, “You’re part of this household now. Even if temporarily.”

The words hung in the air.

There was no warmth in his expression, but something in his tone had shifted—less guarded, less sharp.

“You did what I asked today,” Gabriel continued. “You followed instructions. Good work."