The Double or more Life of the Fake Heiress (Mirabella) novel Chapter 555

James stepped out into the crisp morning air, his figure wrapped in a sleek, black wool coat. His complexion seemed to glow against the dark fabric, giving him an air of refined, almost aristocratic elegance.

Mirabella slid into the car with a casual grace, allowing herself a few unabashed glances at him before leisurely drawing her gaze away.

James sat back, one leg crossed over the other, his hand resting nonchalantly on his knee. When he caught Mirabella's curious gaze beside him, he tilted his head towards her and asked, "Do you like what you see?"

Wyatt, who was already steering the vehicle into motion, cast a discreet glance in the rearview mirror, a silent testament to his growing accustomed to James' increasingly shameless antics.

Propping her elbow lazily against the car door, Mirabella's pale fingers cradled her forehead while her beautiful face bore no hint of shyness. She nodded slightly, offering a sincere assessment, "You look good."

James arched an eyebrow. "Just good?"

Mirabella rubbed her temple thoughtfully, pretending to consider her words carefully. After a moment, she replied, "Very good-looking."

James was rendered speechless.

"Ahem..." Wyatt couldn't hold back a chuckle. One should never expect anything out of the ordinary from a woman as straightforward as Mirabella. Straight shooters like her had a way of leaving all the gents at a loss for words. Also, she was a renowned medical expert, and her trademark was brevity, never one for beating around the bush.

Leaning back in her seat, Mirabella's eyes, clear and distinct as day and night, suddenly sparked with another question, "How old are you, lad?"

James' lips twitched, but before he could speak, Wyatt chimed in from the front seat. "He's 24, a lifelong bachelor—no girlfriend to speak of, past or present!"

As James' devoted subordinate, Wyatt felt it was his duty to seize every opportunity to market his item...to promote James.

At Wyatt's words, James brought a hand to his forehead in exasperation. It appeared that his patience had become too lenient, and that rascal was actually daring to poke fun at him.