Hiding his irritation, Cesare simply shrugged.
He had purposely avoided Zahir for the two days he was on board.
His manager was displeased with Cesare’s strange antics, but Cesare felt he had no other choice.
Why?
Because Zahir was always a bothersome figure — some might even say a ‘pain in the neck’ — to Cesare.
[Zahir al-Tamid.
That’s my name.]
Cesare’s mind was filled with images of the note and the butterfly mask.
Only God knew how overwhelming his feeling of disgust had been this morning.
With a sudden thought, Cesare’s gaze traveled from the top of Zahir’s head down to his feet.
Strangely enough, he couldn’t detect any of the pheromones typically found in a natural Alpha.
Perhaps Zahir always made a rigorous effort to conceal them, and he appeared to do so with considerable skill.
‘Apart from that, why didn’t I recognize his silhouette?’
Cesare felt a pang of regret, realizing that his careless indifference had led to this oversight.
