Cook for us

Elara's father approached with measured steps, his presence commanding, the kind that filled the space without effort.

His silvered hair was neatly combed back, and his piercing gaze scanned me as though he were weighing my worth with each passing second. I straightened instinctively, offering a polite smile and extending my hand.

"Sir," I greeted, keeping my tone calm and collected. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Aaliyah."

He hesitated for a moment, then took my hand in a firm shake, his expression unreadable.

"Lord Montrose," he replied, his voice deep and deliberate. His gaze shifted briefly to Elara, who stood beside me, her posture stiff and formal. "I see my daughter has been keeping interesting company."

I chuckled softly, hoping to ease the tension. "I hope that's a compliment, my lord."