The bodyguards stood like statues outside the door, their polished armor reflecting the flickering torchlight as they maintained perfect stillness. Liza, wrapped in a scandalously tight red minidress that left little to the imagination, struck a pose that would make a courtesan blush. "Oh darling," she purred, her blood-red lips curling into a smirk as she balanced the silver tray with practiced ease, "still clinging to His Majesty's coattails, I see. How... predictable."
I arched an eyebrow, refusing to rise to her bait. "Liza, always a vision in... desperation," I countered smoothly, stepping aside with exaggerated courtesy. "Do hurry in—I'm sure Lionel is positively famished after our... extended discussion." My fingers unconsciously brushed against my slightly swollen lips as I spoke.
This was my moment of truth—would Lionel still remember his favorite pet after our intimate encounter? The thought sent an unpleasant twist through my stomach.
