Letting Randaya into the room, I watched her closely, intrigued.
She walked into my bedroom with surprising confidence, placing the strawberries and glasses on the dresser, then handed me the champagne bottle, silently asking me to open it.
“Is there a special occasion?” I asked, my eyes drifting slowly over the flawless curve of her waist.
“We’ll see,” she replied mysteriously, casting a brief, flirtatious glance before lowering her eyes in a teasingly shy way.
I popped the cork and poured the sparkling liquid into two glasses, handing her one. She accepted it gracefully, taking a few slow sips before picking up a strawberry. Biting into it—deliberately, erotically—she sent me a signal that couldn’t be misread.
“Won’t your father mind what you’re planning to do here tonight?” I smirk
