"If you add a tattoo of my face on your body, it would be the most expensive art."
She inserted a smile at the end. Let her husband think of an answer whether to agree or not, even though it really wasn't something that was said seriously. Just testing the extent to which Abihirt could be talked to. The most patience—draining thing was when the man began to stare straight ahead. "Are you done with your office business?" Then asked, as if there was something to know and she didn't have a clue about what to say. "Yes, of course. What's wrong with you asking like that?" There was a sense of apprehension trying to nestle wildly in Barbara's mind. She wished she could be more calm when going through times like this. Abihirt didn't say much more, other than getting up to walk to the bathroom—almost, but then the man turned half a face and said, "Gloriya came because she asked you to persuade me to withdraw the report?" The topic of their conversation chMoreau's face instinctively looked up at one of the shelves attached to the wall. It was quite high. Perhaps she needed something just to continue searching, as there was no specific explanation of where Barbara had placed the object, though she had at least gotten a few clues. The faint sound of a cell phone vibrating drew Moreau's attention for a moment. She turned her head again. She frowned when she saw the odd smile on her mother's face. Barbara seemed to have just received a sweet message from someone and did not hesitate to show such a thing to the surface. Perhaps it could be attributed to Abihirt's invisible whereabouts. It was none of her business. Moreau never wanted to interfere with something that was on her list of possible descriptions of Barbara's betrayal. Just trying to focus on her tiptoes while taking a step or two backward just to look for something she needed. There was almost nothing in sight other than finding a few devices fully organiz
Barbara may have left the house, but Moreau imagined Caroline's face. Her mother had said she was in the backyard. It was too risky if they didn't keep their distance. "Look for what you need." Instead of agreeing. Abihirt said something in a tone like he was holding something back. It was too brief if it amused Moreau a little. Having always admired her stepfather's perfect form, it was hard to believe that the man had to face such a stable and stressful crisis. "You are unable to lift my body, huh?" she asked, just wanting to confirm the knowledge she was sure was true. Deliberately turning half of her face—staring down; at Abihirt's upturned face; while drawing a silent smile. "My shoulder is injured." Her stepfather immediately explained. That made sense. The correlation between keeping the strength in a solid balance and the wounded side there. Perhaps it should have been faster. Moreau gesticulated, pushing aside a few things until the one
There was no protest. She didn't want to propose anything. Let things go as they should and stay at a reasonable level that didn't cross the line of tolerance. After all, Abihirt had no interest in adding to the reasons why the man was still here. Observing every detail of what Moreau was doing. Not admiring anything, but it was a bit much if they still ended up in such close proximity. "I don't like being watched while I'm doing something in the kitchen, Abi. You might want to step outside. To the living room. Anywhere or go meet your dog. Just not here." "Why?" Almost without pause, the deep, raspy voice finally broke through. Moreau swallowed as she considered the various things she needed to choose from. Some of them might be too dangerous. "I don't like it." But there was always denial if something inside her decided to betray. Moreau hurriedly tried to focus after saying that. "Don't like it?" It was bad luck that she had to face such a whis
"No, no. I can do it myself." She said following the hurried action of grabbing the fallen vegetable spoon. Every now and then, Moreau's bright blue irises would glare at her stepfather as a hint that they were about to be discovered and he should be more careful when he was at home. "I need some paper and pens, Caroline. Can you go and get them for me?" There was nothing wrong, if the thought in Abihirt's mind would have been clear enough. However, Moreau could not figure out the specific approach, with the man's motivation seemingly mysterious. After all, Caroline was being very obedient to actually leave the kitchen. "Are you up to something, Abi?" That needed to be asked. Moreau was grateful that she was finally no longer trapped in situations like the last time. Sometimes just venturing a glance at Abihirt's fingers, which the man used to touch her. Then blinked repeatedly simply realizing that it would leave an additional impression if she let the man
"One more shot." Moreau had been dealing with bad press all day. Her ex-boyfriend had unilaterally made the choice to end their relationship. She had been asking for a definitive reason since that sad moment, but Froy and the man's angry gaze were clearly refusing to talk. What an irony. Tomorrow was her mother's wedding day, and Moreau had no idea what the groom looked like. They were not introduced. Her mother was planning a silent necessity. There was even so much other pressure to leave serious blotches that it felt like they were punching holes in Moreau's heart. She was almost desperate to figure things out. Moments ago, she decided to go to a bar with the intention of calming down. The striking red dress was perfect on Moreau's slim body. Apparently, in front of the bar counter, Moreau was sitting alone. Staring at a few empty glasses—the wine was gone. Thus, her throat was like ashes with the remains of a fire. It was completely barren. Moreau never thought that she would ge
Abihirt Lincoln woke up to find a young girl wrapped in thick blankets in his bed. He blinked a few times, trying hard to remember the remnants of last night's bet. The bastard Roki had brazenly added stimulant powder to the last cocktail glass—which had to be gulped down—to celebrate the upcoming wedding day. "Asshole!" Abihirt cursed while rubbing his rough face. This morning was the blessing. He glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. 30 minutes to go, but as the groom-Abihirt had yet to make any preparations. For a moment, the gray eyes scanned the innocent face, which slowly began to frown to avoid the light streaming through the white curtains. Abihirt picked up the cloth scattered around the edge of the bed. Putting his white shirt back on, he raised one eyebrow high when he noticed that the bright blue iris had completely opened and were staring in complete surprise. "Who are you?" Moreau's breath caught. No one would have expected that in front of her a full-grow
A futile attempt at escape. Moreau's breath caught at the reflection in the mirror. A person with a pale-even completely disheveled-face was trying to compose herself. Moreau didn't know what else she could do after this. When Barbara noticed such a slow arrival at the wedding, her steps immediately left the people around. There was no better place to hide than the hotel bathroom. Moreau was still at a loss as to what to do after accepting the fact that last night's forbidden act had crossed the line. Literally-the incident with the strange man would not have fallen into the most complicated rut. They were not related by blood. He would just be Moreau's stepfather, though there was one important thing... she would feel awkward when they were under the same roof. Moreau was sure she could have become independent, had Barbara given her permission. It was just that she considered Moreau an asset and would not allow her to take one step out of the building left behind by her biolog
"You should get along better with my new husband, Moreau. But you must remember to behave yourself. Don't wear sexy clothes while Abi is home." So early in the morning Barbara had said a series of words, which had not even crossed Moreau's mind. She found it odd to think that since when would Barbara care about how she dressed? Never. Only after she had remarried. All the anticipation was there and the slightest hint of a cornered tone as if Moreau had been prepared, or perhaps Barbara had a hunch? Moreau would make sure that what happened that night. Would never happen again. "Did you hear me, Moreau?" Barbara's question again - the song filled the room, pushing Moreau back to the surface. She blinked, then glanced at her mother's stern face. "I dress openly only when performing on stage or at important tournaments. Even then, it's still within polite and normal levels. The rest of the time, as you've always seen, my clothes are ordinary," Moreau snarled as she pulled the