— I thought I'd find you alone, Mila Grace.
— I'm not allowed to be. — Salin said.
— You possess a rare beauty, did you know? — Gregory said, his eyes narrowing — There's something… untouchable about you. You look more like a painting than someone real. You manage to become more beautiful and valuable every day.
Salin maintained a neutral posture but gave a half-smile.
— Paintings don't talk.
He laughed, enchanted.
— And you even speak as if it were poetry. Fascinating.
Salin pretended to be interested in Gregory's idle chatter, who, little by little, seemed… too interested in him.
As if he were truly determined to win him over.
Salin was a little surprised.
Before the older man got any closer, Patrícia stepped forward, blocking the path with her body and an icy glare.
— Fascinating? Perhaps. But untouchable is the right word. So keep your hands, and your eyes, to yourself.
Gregory blinked, almost surprised by the audacity, and then chuckled softly.
— And you are?
