Isabelle leaned back slightly, giving him a warning glance.
George stopped abruptly, his gaze fixed on Isabelle, feeling a blend of embarrassment and guilt, his lips pressed firmly shut.
Isabelle, neither distant nor indifferent, remarked, “Seems like you have a hard time controlling yourself around me, Mr. Harris. Need a hand with that?”
George genuinely feared that if Isabelle poked him a few times, he’d end up looking lopsided. It wouldn’t just be embarrassing to be in front of her. Yves would also tease him mercilessly for days.
To prevent such an outcome…
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