Page 29 of A Sixpence For Your Shoe

In the morning, I am woken by my phone ringing and with one glance at the screen I remember that Masaccio said he was coming for breakfast today.

I completely forgot. Misha is taking up all of my time and all of my thoughts are just about her.

“Hello.” I answer with my voice lower than usual, not awake yet.

“Dad, I’m here.”

“I’ll open up now. Give me a second.”

The last thing I want to do is get out of bed. Misha is snuggled against me and sleeping peacefully.

Slipping my arm out from beneath her I grab my sweatpants and a T-shirt as I head towards the front door to open for Mas.

“Did I wake you?” He asks, eyeing me up and down. “Since when do you sleep past five?”

“Since when do I answer to you about anything?” I ask coldly.

He sighs. “I was just asking.”

Mas walks into the kitchen area and sets a brown paper bag on the kitchen counter. He pulls out four breakfast croissants. “I didn’t know if you wanted bacon or salmon. I got both.”

“Morning.” A sleepy voice comes from behind us, and we both turn to see Misha standing there in her panties and t-shirt not quite long enough to cover anything.

Her eyes go wide when she spots Mas.

“Oh.” She exclaims loudly. “Um.” She turns left then right and then bolts out of the kitchen.

Mas chuckles. “So, that’s why.” He says, amused.

“I said mind your own business. She is my personal assistant.”

“Ok, dad.” He nods, not pushing the topic.

We pull out three plates and while we wait for Misha to come back, I make coffee.

Misha walks in the second time in a pair of jeans and a crop top, making my skin beg for her touch. Fuck. She looks good.

“Hi.” She says again, blushing slightly. “Sorry, I didn’t know someone else was here.”

“I’m Masaccio.” He says, holding his hand out towards her. She shakes it.

“This is my oldest son.” I comment. “Would you prefer bacon or salmon?”

“Either. They both sound good.”

“I asked you a question, Misha.” I say sternly.

“Salmon.” She answers quickly and obediently.

“Good girl. Here you go. And here is your coffee. Go sit at the breakfast table.”

She takes them from me and smiles, her eyes twinkling as she glances at me and then quickly looks away.

Misha hurries from the kitchen and Mas watches her, his eyes tracing over her body. It makes me angry to see him admiring her that way. Angry and possessive.

“Do you want me to cut your eyes out of your head?” I warn him.

He rolls his eyes and sighs. “She looks so familiar. Do I know her? Did she work for you before?”