Grace's POV
Carlos's phone started buzzing incessantly on the nightstand beside us. We both ignored it at first, but the calls kept coming - one after another without pause.
"Jesus Christ," Carlos muttered, glancing at his phone screen. "It's Amara. She won't stop calling."
I watched as his phone lit up repeatedly with her persistent attempts to reach him. The woman was clearly desperate for his attention.
"You should answer," I said, my hand moving to caress his hard length. "We need to maintain credibility."
Carlos groaned in frustration but finally picked up after what felt like countless missed calls.
——
"What do you need, Miss Ian?" Carlos's voice came through the phone. His tone was strained, almost rough, as if he was engaged in something physically demanding, like having sex or being pleasured by another woman.
Which, of course, he was.
