Cesare threw off the covers and stood up.
His firm chest showed through the thin nightgown as he stepped off the bed, his toned legs flexing—both drawing Zahir’s attention.
When Cesare headed toward the bathroom instead of him, Zahir quickly blocked his path.
Cesare shot him a stern look, gesturing firmly.
“Move.”
Of course, Zahir didn’t budge; instead, he casually continued.
“What’s for breakfast? I like toast.”
“If you’re not ‘cheap,’ why do you keep trying to mooch off me?”
Disgusted, Cesare spat in contempt and brushed past Zahir, heading into the bathroom.
Zahir quickly wedged his foot between the door and frame, keeping it from fully closing.
Even with his hair in disarray, Cesare’s allure remained undiminished.
Zahir watched in awe, taking in the beautiful sight of Cesare as he lathered his face with soap.
“Reporters are swarming outside, so we can’t go out. I didn’t bring my car, so there’s no way through.”
“Why not take your damn helicopter to the store?”
