Start what? I'm just eating my breakfast," I said, taking a deliberate, slow bite of toast. I didn't look at him. I focused entirely on the bread, savoring the silence.
Cassian cleared his throat. "We have a change of schedule. The site meeting is moved to tomorrow. We've been invited to the estate of Mateo de la Vega."
I paused, toast mid-air. De la Vega was a name you only heard whispered in connection to massive land holdings and political pull that could move mountains. "Cool," I said, not looking up. "Have fun with that."
"You're my assistant," he said, his voice hardening. "You're coming. De la Vega is hosting an afternoon of riding and skeet shooting. It's a formality on behalf of my father, but a necessary one."
"Actually," I said, finally meeting his gaze with a sweet, vacant smile. "I'm taking a personal day. I'm very sore. And very tired. I think I'll stay here, watch some Spanish soap operas, and maybe take a four-hour nap in your very expensive bed."
