Mia
When I woke, it was to the sound of a child giggling delightfully and a light, warm breeze caressing my face. It was as if the little girl was teasing me, deliberately blowing air on my skin to annoy me with the intention of raising me from my slumber. I immediately knew who the culprit was. After all, this playful scenario had happened quite frequently since I’d arrived here in Los Angeles a few weeks ago, to live with the billionaire James Maxwell in his million-dollar mansion.
My eyes fluttered open, an amused smile playing across my lips.
“Morning, Aria,” I said softly.
The little girl giggled some more, pleased I was finally awake as she had wanted.
