Concealing Affection in the Gilded Cage

Tristan's thin lips slightly pursed as he lowered his gaze to Cynthia tugging at his clothes. Her fingers, slender and graceful like green onions, delicately held onto his black suit. A simple gesture, yet it unexpectedly softened his heart.

He slowly lifted his eyes to look at Cynthia. The woman's eyebrows arched slightly, forming a perfect curve, teeming with a glimmer of innocence that was both unclear and intriguing. The lipstick on her lips had blurred under the passionate and domineering kiss.

In harmony with the disheveled collar and the marks on her neck, an irresistibly picturesque scene involuntarily unfolded in the mind. Tristan's eyes darkened, and he reached out to trace her swollen lips with his fingertips, wiping away the smeared lipstick along the contours of her lips.

His Adam's apple rolled up and down, and his chilly voice carried a hint of hoarseness, "How do you want me to take responsibility?"