Mika knew he couldn't let the situation hang unresolved. Charlotte was subdued for now, her tears slowed by his earlier soothing words, but he could see the doubt lingering in her eyes.
But fortnately, he had already crafted the perfect narrative, a web of half-truths and plausible excuses, and now it was time to solidify it.
He glanced down at Charlotte, expecting to see her clinging to his arm for comfort—but instead, her gaze was fixed on his hand, which was gently stroking Yelena's nipple, teasing and tugging it with care. She also stared as her mother shifted on his lap, her hips rubbing against him, her breath hitching as she struggled to contain her arousal.
Charlotte's expression was one of stunned fascination, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed with something akin to awe.
Seeing this, Mika smirked, his voice cutting through the tension with a teasing edge.
