This must be the housekeeper.
"Teresa, this is Lily Williams, part of the Interpol team helping us."
She turns to me, her eyes shining with appreciation. "Oh, you’re god sent, mi hija, I've been so worried. All these threats and nonsense— loco. I make you extra special breakfass."
"I don't usually eat breakfast unless I'm forced to," I say, shooting Blake a sideways glance.
"You like Mexican food?" She wiggles her eyebrows.
An amused grin stretches across my face. "I've never had much Mexican food, Mrs. Teresa."
"What you mean you never had much Mexican food? ¡Orale! We fix this, mi hija. You like sausage and potatoes?"
"I make you Chorizo con papas. You love it, trust me." She scoots to the fridge and removes several articles of food.
"I hope you can make enough for everyone, Teresa. There’s seven more still sleeping," Blake says, amused, as he sits next to me.
"Of course, Mr. Mason, but I make hers special." She turns and winks at me.
I've never met someone like her. Mexico wasn't kind to us during the four months I spent there a few years ago. I like this woman.
An hour later, I'm stuffed, sipping from a bottle of water. The team hasn't joined us, and Blake's still eating. Teresa turns to me, hands on her hips, face expectant.
"Well? What you think?" Her accent might be the single most adorable thing I’ve ever heard, especially mixed with her attitude.
"I can see why Mr. Mason hired you." I chuckle. "That might be the best thing I've eaten, ever."
She beams, pride and satisfaction saturating her face.
"Good. I leave the rest in the warmer for your team. Mr. Mason, I got to do laundry today, I'll be there if you need me," she says, strolling toward his bedroom.
Blake stands and picks up my bowl.
"I can get that."
"Relax. I got it," he says sternly.
"Thank you, Mr. Mason."
He drops the dishes with a loud clank, spinning around to glare at me. "If you call me 'Mr. Mason' one more fucking time, Lily, I swear to God, I'm going to lose my shit. Blake. Understand? Save that formal shit for your team’s benefit."
"Blake," I snap. "If you talk to me like that again, I'm going to lose my shit, which will be far worse than you losing yours."
His eyes narrow. "Fine, just stop with the formalities, please."
"When we're alone, fine. In front of the team, though, you're still Mr. Mason."
"Good." I look down at my hands. "I'm sorry about the incident with Miranda. It won't happen again."
"You have nothing to apologize for. I heard what she said. She won't be coming back here again."