“You, of all people, know how much I’ve missed Cesare. More importantly, you’re hardly in a position to give me such ‘advice,’ are you?” he warned in a low voice.
His secretary seemed to realize he’d struck a nerve and lowered his gaze in silence.
But Zahir wasn’t finished; he scolded his secretary once more.
“Answer me. Don’t you even recognize your own mistake?”
“...I apologize, Your Highness.”
Only then did Zahir release the necktie and slump back onto the sofa.
Unable to find the same comfortable position as before, he noticed a cushion in the corner and pulled it into his embrace.
Suddenly, his expression softened.
‘Ah...’
Here, Cesare’s scent still lingered.
With his head nestled in the cushion, Zahir softened his voice.
“When Cesare wakes up, have breakfast ready for him. You remember his preferences, right?”
“...Yes, I do.”
The secretary’s expression turned sour.
