"We will handle everything, husband~~~"
The word 'husband' came in stereo — Mira's lower, amused, the word landing like a hand of cards placed face-up; Helena's warmer, rounder, the kind of word Helena said the way you say something you've been holding in your mouth and finally decided to actually say.
Viktor looked at both of them.
At Mira's crimson-green eyes carrying the heart-shapes and the specific gleam of a woman who had already run the logistics.
At Helena's warm brown ones, patient and entirely certain.
He breathed.
"I'm not doing anything," he said.
Both of them were already moving toward the bedroom door.
The bed had been modified.
