Gideon's lips curved into a subtle smirk. "My lady, I wonder how you make your people believe you're a promiscuous woman with such poor acting skills," he teased, his voice laced with amusement.
Ythira gritted her teeth, her hold on Gideon's clothes tightening. With a vicious tug, she ripped his waistcoat apart. Tilting her chin up defiantly, she met Gideon's gaze head-on.
"Who said I'm acting? I am promiscuous!," she snapped.
Gideon glanced down at his now torn chest, inspecting the ruined fabric hanging off him like ribbons.
"That's not really something to be proud of... I guess," he muttered under his breath.
Ythira's eyes slowly trailed down the man's features until they landed on his strong, hairy chest. She shrieked and spun around in haste, covering her eyes with her palms.
Gideon couldn't help but let out a sarcastic scoff. "My lady, you're the one who went all rowdy on me, yet here you are acting like a victim. Don't you think that's a bit hypocritical?"
