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"Such as?" she questioned.

"I make excellent tea,” he reminded.

"That's one thing,” she said, holding up a finger as though keeping count.

He chuckled despite himself. "I cook."

"You cook?" she asked.

"When necessary, yes, I can cook,” he said, almost sounding offended.

"I don't believe you,” she said.

"I make breakfast every Sunday."

"For who?" she asked.

"My staff." It was something that he started out of necessity when Maria got sick for a few months. He decided to give her Sundays off after that because he liked cooking for everyone. It made him feel as though he had a purpose.

She stared at him. "You cook for your employees?"

"They're family, not employees.” The words came naturally, because they were true. Maria, Luca, and the guards were his family. Every person under his roof mattered to him. He'd built this place to protect them.

Lily looked thoughtful. "I don't think I know anyone like you."

Soren poured steaming water into two mugs. "I hope not."

She laughed softly, and he handed her one of the mugs.

She wrapped both hands around it immediately. "Thank you." The gratitude in her voice felt disproportionate to a simple cup of tea. Which meant she'd gone far too long without anyone caring for her. That realization sat heavily in his chest.

Lily sat quietly, staring at the tea that sat untouched on the kitchen table. She seemed to be disconnecting from him again, and he hated that the progress that they had made over the last twenty minutes was going to just disappear.

“You should drink your tea," he said quietly.

She looked up at him. "What?"

"You need something warm,” he insisted.

"I've already ruined your night. I should just go back to my room,” she breathed. That was the last thing he wanted. If he let her retreat, she might never trust him enough to come to him again. And for some reason, that mattered. Having her trust had become important and he wasn’t about to send her back to her room to be alone—not tonight.

"You haven't ruined anything, babygirl,” he assured. He held out the cup of tea to her, and she didn’t take it. "Lily."

"I'm okay,” she lied.

"No." His voice remained calm. "You're trying to convince me you're okay." She looked down at the kitchen table.

"I'm trying to convince myself that I’m okay,” she corrected.

His chest tightened. He held out his hand to her. She took it and allowed him to pull her into his lap as he sat down in the chair next to hers. After a brief hesitation, she cuddled into his chest and damn if she didn’t feel right there. It was almost as though she was made to fit against him.

“Thank you,” she whispered. And for now, that was enough.

They sat in the kitchen like that for what felt like an eternity. He held her, gently stroking his hands down her back as she lay against his chest, and he had never felt so content. "I should probably go back to my room."

"You could,” he breathed.

She nodded. "I should."