"Well, could you give us fifteen minutes to have sex first? I am his wife, after all." She tilted her head, watching the man's face turn crimson as his composure faltered.
"Uh…" The driver blinked rapidly. His ears turned pink.
"Come on," Sharona coaxed, lowering her voice into a purr as she stepped closer. "He just had a little too much to drink. We wanted to unwind before, you know…" She trailed off suggestively, letting her robe slip just slightly at the collar for emphasis.
The driver's mouth opened and closed. "Uh… okay. I'll just confirm from Mr. Dalton first." He awkwardly reached into his pocket for his phone, his discomfort palpable as his professional demeanor warred with the absurdity of the situation.
But before he could even unlock the device, the ding! of the elevator sliced through the tension. The doors slid open with a hiss, and out stormed Reese—every stride radiating purpose and fury—with Sylvia hot on his heels.
