Marilyn's POV
I was wearing a light-coloured shirt; the slim cut outlined the slender curves, and the buttons on my chest couldn't cover the tempting cleavage.
I was bent over, my breasts seeming to be pressed against Lynn's thighs. Lynn was holding up her mobile phone, her thumbs unconsciously pressing the keyboard on the screen, and in the input box, she kept typing a long paragraph of English letters, then unconsciously grazed the send button and sent a string of nonsensical, jumbled codes to Karl.
In the quiet corner of the garage, the sports car engine was off, the windows were closed, the windows were pasted with a one-way see-through film, and with the silent surveillance cameras everywhere, no one knew that there were two people in the car.
My eyes were born charming, but the look was always indifferent, looking straight at a person, making it difficult for them to perceive what I really wanted.
Lynn often did not know.
