Third Person's POV
Wilmot literally had to rub his stiff cheeks, letting out a sharp, disgusted clicking sound from the back of his throat.
Trista picked up on his weird behavior immediately.
She shot him a freezing side-eye, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "What the hell is wrong with you now?"
"I'm getting a cavity from all this cringe," Wilmot mouthed silently, looking deeply disturbed.
He couldn't even process the reality in front of him. The high-and-mighty, untouchable Mortimer Craig was actually racking his brain, desperately scraping the bottom of the barrel just to force small talk with a woman.
Was this not the most humiliating thing he had ever witnessed?
"Babe, are you seeing this?" Wilmot quickly leaned into Trista's ear, dropping his voice to a whisper.
"Seeing what?"
