“For starters… they’re invisible?” I muttered. “You’ve basically made this place your personal nudist retreat.”
“Didn't know I was offending anyone,” he said, half-amused.
“You’re distracting the help,” I added, turning away. “For everyone’s sanity, please put on pants.”
Ten minutes later, we were in the store.
Of course, he made trying on clothes look like a damn campaign shoot. Rolled-up sleeves. Subtle smirks. The occasional button left undone just enough to ruin my focus.
I tried not to stare. Failed.
“Do you plan to walk around like that forever?” I asked, handing him a shirt. “Or is this an audition for Shirtless Chef: The Series?”
“I didn’t realize I needed wardrobe approval,” he teased, pulling on the tee effortlessly.
“You do now. You work for me.”
He laughed, and for a second, his walls slipped. Just a man trying on shirts—not a mystery wrapped in brooding.
And me? I was definitely in trouble.
And I had no recipe for how to get out.
4 ♥?Manav
I have no idea what to do with this girl and her obsession with my clothes.
She took me shopping. Bought me clothes. Gave me a job. I have no idea how that happened—or why I didn’t stop her. I’m notjobless,and I’m absolutelynothomeless. Yet here I am, letting her believe that I’m this poor, shirtless wanderer with nowhere to go.
I promised Roy I’d take care of his sister, but I didn’t sign up to be her chef. After what she pulled in the kitchen last time—trying to recreate some recipe from a cooking show—let’s just say it’s a miracle the house is still standing. She could easily burn the place down in minutes if she’s left unsupervised.
I’m not doing this for her. Definitely not.
I’m doing this to avoid the awkward—and frankly terrifying—conversation I’d have to have with Roy about why his house is now a pile of ashes. It’s pure self-preservation. Nothing else.
Not for her flustered “oops” or those wide eyes watching me like I’m a recipe she can’t figure out. Nope. Just damage control. A necessary intervention to preventRoy from disowning both of us.
“Sir…” Justin said from the other end of the line as I picked up the call.
“What did I tell you about no calls today?” I said, rubbing my sleepy eyes.
“Sorry, sir… Rocky Mehra announced that—”
“What?” I cut him off, annoyed to be dealing with this right after waking up.
“He’s gunning for the London deal. Says he’ll screw you over…”
I clenched my jaw. “No calls till tomorrow. I saidnocalls,” I snapped, getting up from the sofa.
I checked my watch again.Shit… I had, like, one minute to meet the sheriff! I grabbed a T-shirt, pulling it on quickly.
I can’t roam around shirtless anymore. The last thing I need is anyone else offering to take me shopping again.
____________
Damn… these dreams. I hate these sleepless hours.
I woke up in the middle of the night and downed a bottle of water. A quick glance at the clock—2 AM.Great.I couldn’t sleep.
