Alex smiled. “You’re the one inviting me to breakfast. You know the good spots—clean, tasty, and safe. I’ll follow your lead.”
Aitana smiled back. Just then, the shop owner’s wife came over with two steaming cups of soy milk.
“Mr. York, do you usually drink soy milk?” she asked gently.
She knew the Yorks were one of the wealthiest families in the country, worth hundreds of billions. Alex had grown up in luxury. Maybe he’d never had anything as simple as soy milk before.
“I do. I usually squeeze it myself.” Alex had never had soy milk outside his home or even in his own hotels.
Aitana nodded. “If I have time, I’ll make it myself, too. But usually, I just buy it outside. The auntie who cooks at home sometimes makes it fresh. Try this one—I think it’s the real deal.”
Alex took a sip and nodded. “It is. Real soy milk. Nice and rich.”
Aitana smiled. “I see the owner’s wife making it fresh almost every day. This shop does well because the owners are honest. They’d rather make less money than have customers feel unsafe eating here.”
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