A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened, and Beatrice Hargrave appeared at the door in a seductive pose, coquettishly calling, "Nicholas~"
Nicholas Croft turned his eyes and saw Beatrice's outfit, his breath catching.
A half-smoked cigar pinched between his thumb and forefinger, some emotions choking in his throat, his thin lips trembled slightly, "Lara?" The two words slipped out unconsciously.
Today was a special day. He didn't want to dampen the mood, but...
Beatrice's attire was too much like his Lara, full of dirty braids, heavy makeup, and...
The bright red sheer lingerie she wore was just one of Sophie Foster's little games she used to play to please him.
His chest felt suffocated, his throat seemed to be tightly squeezed, making it difficult to breathe.
Nicholas Croft sat on the sofa, feeling paralyzed, watching as Beatrice approached him with a seductive sway, one hand resting on her waist, unable to react.
