The Billionaire's Secret Quartet

Alaric snapped back to reality and turned to look at her, only to find her staring at him with wide, round eyes, completely captivated.

There he was, clad in nothing but a towel around his waist, droplets of water trickling down from his hair, cascading over his chest and tracing the outline of his lean muscles, slowly making their way down and sketching every inch of his skin.

Hertha's gaze followed those droplets all the way down to the towel wrapped around his waist.

The path those droplets took left too much to the imagination, and Hertha couldn't help but click her tongue in awe.

Alaric, catching every bit of Hertha's expression, gave a roguish chuckle, "Looks like you're not quite done yet. Want me to unwrap and give you a better view?"

With that, he made a move to undo the towel around his waist.

Hertha took a deep breath, quickly regained her composure, and raised her hand to stop him, "Enough, Alaric. Unless you're aiming to be a eunuch, I suggest you stop right now."

make him halt his actions, chuckling, "Come on, it's not like you haven't seen it

you say that one more time, I'll make you taste

I'm starving." "What do you want? I'll whip something up," Hertha volunteered as she marched towards his kitchen, only to find the fridge as barren as a desert, save for

have an egg. How can

shouted back before closing the door, "I hardly eat

a moment; it made sense. Alaric, a man of privilege since birth,

remembered how greasy and unhealthy that could be. Alaric had just been sick and was still recovering. Greasy food wouldn't do his

might not end up together, Hertha

a friend, she ought

back," she

only to ensuring she