A trolley rolled noisily along the kitchen passage, its wheels squeaking faintly against the tiled floor as it made its way toward Xavier's room.
Pushing it was Oliver.
He had been personally instructed by Xavier to prepare a delicious breakfast for his wife, Asher. The order had come unexpectedly, and Oliver hadn't been pleased—not in the slightest. Still, complaining wasn't an option. Especially not when the command had dragged him out of bed before dawn, at exactly 5 a.m.
He had been the very first server awake in the entire clan.
By the time the others were just beginning their duties, Oliver had already been deep into cooking. From before 7 a.m., he worked tirelessly, making sure every dish was perfect. When he was finally done, instead of handing it off, he was given another strict order: deliver it personally. No one else was to carry it.
So here he was.
Pushing the heavy trolley all the way to Xavier's door.
