Bourtigne was the kind of restaurant that didn’t have a sign out front. You either knew it or you didn’t, and if you had to ask, you probably wouldn’t get a table.

The interior was all dark wood and dim lighting, the kind of place that exuded a luxurious vibe and seemed quite proud of itself.

Salvatore was already there when Liam pulled up, which didn’t surprise Milo at all.

Milo was nervous to enter the restaurant. He looked so small, even compared to the waiter, who was dressed so neatly and nicely.

He glanced at Liam several times, and the man just nodded.

Salvatore was seated at a corner table near the window, his jacket still on, a glass of water in front of him and nothing else. He looked up when Milo walked in, then looked past him at Liam and tilted his head almost imperceptibly toward the door.

Liam caught the signal immediately. "I’ll, um... wait outside."

Milo glanced back at him, he didn’t want Liam to leave. Then he looked at Salvatore. "Can he sit with us?"

"He’s fine outside," Salvatore said simply.

Liam nodded respectfully and walked outside as fast as he could.

Milo pressed his lips together and slid into the seat across from him without pushing it. The two new guards stationed themselves near the entrance without being asked, quiet and practiced about it.

A waiter appeared almost instantly. Salvatore ordered without looking at the menu, something in a small portion, brief and specific. Then he looked at Milo.

Milo scanned the menu quickly. Everything was in French, and the descriptions were long. What was that food?

He looked at Salvatore, who had already ordered his meal, and swallowed hard. "I... I don’t know what I should get, Sir."

"The duck. Or the salmon if you don’t want something heavy."

"Uh... Duck is fine. Which one is it?" Milo tried to figure out what he should order.

Salvatore helped him.

Milo sighed and set the menu down. Then the waiter disappeared.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Milo looked around the restaurant at the other tables occupied by people having quiet, serious lunches, and then back at Salvatore, who was just watching him the way he always did, as if he were reading something.

"Why did you ask me to have lunch here?" Milo asked. The place felt way too fancy just for lunch for him.

"Didn’t I tell you to avoid junk food? Do I have to keep repeating it? Why the hell did you go to Chicken Palace? What are you going to get there?"

Milo gulped. "How... How do you know we were there?"

"I’ll know wherever you are. Just answer me."

"Uh... They have a lot of good food. And it’s not just junk food."

"It’s the same place, what you get comes from the same kitchen."

"But... it’s just food. I won’t die just because I eat it."

"Listen. I wasn’t asking you to starve," Salvatore said. "I was asking you to eat properly."

"But... It’s... Proper food. I was going to order beef. They have steak too."

Salvatore gave him a look that said he found that very hard to believe.

The water arrived, and Milo poured himself a glass just to have something to do with his hands. He was nervous.

"Sir, you don’t have to watch what I eat," he said after a moment, his voice quieter now, afraid it might make the man angry. "I’ve been managing just fine on my own."

"I know you have." Salvatore’s voice held no edge. "That’s not why."

"Then why?"

Salvatore was quiet for a moment, looking at him across the table. "Because you don’t take care of yourself the way you should. You skip meals, you eat whatever’s convenient, you ignore your body until it becomes a problem. I’ve seen it already in the short time you’ve been at the house."

He set his glass down. "Do you know how many times you’ve been sick? I’m not going to let that continue."

Milo opened his mouth, then closed it again. He didn’t have a good argument for that because it was largely true.

Before, Nero had just given him small portions of food to keep him skinny. And he’d started eating well at the mansion. But then, he ate everything he could find.

He just didn’t know why Salvatore was paying attention to it now.

"I eat," he said weakly.

"You eat poorly." Salvatore said it without any particular judgment, just stating it. "We’ll fix that. At the mansion, Luke will give you good food. Outside, you have to take care of yourself."

Milo looked down at the tablecloth. He felt that strange, familiar pull of wanting to push back but not having enough ground to stand on.

"You’re going to decide things for me? Even what I eat?"

"Yes, if I have to. I’ll make sure I take care of you, the way I should."

Milo looked up at him, trying to figure out if that was a joke. Salvatore’s face gave nothing away, but there was something in his eyes that showed he was serious.

The food arrived before Milo could respond, which was probably for the best.

The food was good. Better than good, actually. Milo was three bites in before he realized he’d stopped thinking about the argument and started actually eating, and by the time he was halfway through the plate, he had to admit, privately and without any intention of saying it out loud, that Salvatore had a point.

It was the kind of meal that made everything else feel like it hadn’t been good enough.

Salvatore ate without comment, unhurried, not watching Milo the way Milo had expected to be watched. He checked his phone once, briefly, and put it away again.

"The office this morning," Salvatore said after a while. "How did it go?"

Milo swallowed. "It was fine. Liam explained most of it. There was a lot of talking about things I didn’t completely follow."

"Did you ask questions?"

"Yes, some..."

"What stopped you from asking more?"

Milo poked at the last of his food. "I didn’t want them to think I was completely useless."

Salvatore looked at him evenly. "You own the company."

"I know that, Sir. But..."

"Then it doesn’t matter what they think of your questions. They work for you. If you don’t understand something, you ask until you do. That’s how you avoid being taken advantage of by people who think you won’t notice."

Milo chewed on that for a moment. "I never thought about it like that."

"Most people who are new to this think that pretending to understand is the same as being competent." Salvatore reached for his water. "It’s the opposite. The ones who ask the most questions are usually the ones who end up running everything."

Milo was quiet, turning it over in his mind. "Liam says something similar, but when he says it, I feel like he’s just being nice."

"I’m not being nice," Salvatore said. "You just need to start understanding your new role."

Milo almost smiled at that. He looked down at his plate to hide it.

By the time the waiter came to clear the table, Milo had finished everything on his plate.

But the portion was small. It wasn’t enough.

Salvatore noticed it. "Order more."

Milo felt his cheeks flush. But he ordered anyway.

Three more dishes.

Milo looked at Salvatore, who was eating so little. "Aren’t you hungry?"

"I’d already eaten before I called you."

"Oh, so..."

"I need to make sure you eat properly next time. Or I’ll have to call you every time."

Milo smiled. "Can I do that?"

"It’s annoying. But I have no choice. For now, I’m serious about getting you to take care of your health."

Milo looked down. "I don’t know if it’s good or not. But I’m happy that you care about me."

"I do care about you."

Outside, Liam was leaning against the car with a paper bag and a coffee cup, looking considerably less hungry than he had an hour ago.

When he spotted Milo coming out, he straightened up and quickly tucked the bag behind him—a completely futile gesture since Milo had already seen it.

"Is that a baguette? Again?" Milo said.

"No," Liam said, sounding very unconvincing.

Milo glanced back at Salvatore, who had stopped just outside the restaurant door to speak briefly with one of the guards. Then he looked at Liam, who was holding his breath.

"You’re fine," Milo said quietly. "He didn’t say anything about you."

Liam let out a long breath. "I thought I was going to have to explain myself."

"You didn’t do anything wrong."

"I let you walk into that restaurant."

"Oh, don’t worry. I’m sorry I’m causing you trouble."

Liam smiled. He then leaned toward Milo. "The new guards are very serious," he said, lowering his voice. "They haven’t said a single word since we left this morning. Not one."

"I know." Milo had noticed. "I’ll get used to it."

Salvatore came down the steps and stopped beside Milo for a moment—not long, just long enough to straighten the collar of Milo’s jacket with a quick, matter-of-fact motion that was over before Milo could react to it.

"Go," Salvatore said.

Milo looked up at him. He wanted to say something, though he wasn’t sure what. "Thank you" felt too small for what the lunch had actually been. So he just nodded and let Liam steer him toward the car.

He was almost at the door when Salvatore’s voice came from behind him, low and even.

"Remember what I told you."

Milo paused with his hand on the door, hiding a smile against his shoulder. He got in without answering because Salvatore probably didn’t need one.

Roderick was waiting in his car, looking so bored. "Can we go now?"