Dog then turned to gaze at Ingrid impatiently. “Come over here and pour Mr. Charleston a glass, Ingrid.”
Ingrid shook like a leaf as she clung to Josephine, who squeezed the younger woman’s hand reassuringly.
“Ingrid’s young and inexperienced. Let me do it.”
Josephine stood up and grabbed the bottle of white wine before approaching Larold at the other end of the table.
Dog smirked at the sight, confident in his assessment that Josephine’s initiative to pour the wine was indicative of her actual identity as an escort.
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