Zeus appeared from the bathroom, towel hanging low around his hips, his wet hair slicked back.
He paused, eyes flicking between me and Zoraya like he was watching two halves of some broken mirror.
“Zoraya spilled wine on her dress, Sav,” he said, voice flat and precise like he was reading a report, not delivering a verdict. “She asked for the robe. I told her it was fine. End of story. Don’t make it one. No issue.”
Zoraya smiled at him like he was the only person in the room worth smiling at.
“Thanks for the robe, Zeus. You’re a lifesaver,” she said, voice silky, eyes gleaming.
He nodded, “You should be more careful with the wine next time.”
She laughed, a light, careless sound that made my stomach twist.
“Yeah, yeah, boss,” she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “I’ll try not to drown my clothes again.”
Zeus’s gaze slid back to me. “I don’t want to hear you start with this drama, Savannah. We’ve got bigger problems than a robe.”
I tried to say something—anything—but the words tangled and died in my throat. He stepped closer, kissed my forehead with no warmth at all, more like a cold command.
“We’re starving, babe,” he said. “Get something on the table. You’ll eat too.”