Her cheeks ignited in a violent blush.
Zayn’s laugh—low, deep, completely entertained—filled the room. He ran a hand through his dark hair, still slightly damp from a shower, and shook his head.
“You make it too easy,” he said softly.
She glared, wishing she could sink into the mattress and disappear.
Zayn closed his laptop with a quiet click and stood from the bed with that effortless, predatory grace that always made her nerves tighten. “Breakfast will be served on the terrace in fifteen minutes. Refresh yourself and come down.”
Lena opened her mouth to protest, but he added, almost casually:
“The staff already moved your belongings here yesterday.”
Her jaw dropped. “You—You moved my things? Without asking me?!”
He paused at the bedroom door, turning his head enough for her to ca
