Clara playfully leaned against Dylan's arm, as if she had just noticed the woman sitting across from them.
“Dylan, who’s this?” she asked with a teasing smile.
The woman glared, biting her lip hard before slamming her knife and fork onto the table. “I was about to ask you the same thing. Who are you?”
“Oh, I’m Dylan’s girlfriend. We just made it official. Dylan, want some steak?” Clara replied, cool as ever, spearing a piece and holding it up to his lips.
Dylan hesitated, so Clara leaned in and whispered urgently, “Come on, Mr. Dylan, play along or the gig is up.”
With a quick glance at her scarf, something unreadable flashed in Dylan's eyes. He tried to turn away, but Clara gently cupped his face, guiding him back with a playful persistence.
“Go on, eat,” she coaxed, her hands resting on his cheeks, noses almost touching as their breaths mingled.
While Clara’s eyes held steady on his face, Dylan's gaze dropped, and he reluctantly took a bite. She had no other choice; she feared him pulling away would ruin their cover, so she took matters into her own hands.
After feeding him, Clara turned to the woman. “See? We’re pretty close.”
To be honest, the woman was stunning, with a deliberately seductive style but an undeniable sharpness in her demeanor. She narrowed her eyes, noticing Dylan's downcast lashes, and sneered.
“So what? I feed other guys like that all the time. Let’s see you two really kiss if you’re so close.”
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