Elisabeth's POV
The temperature in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees the instant I processed what I was seeing. The playful conversation between Alana and me vanished as my eyes locked onto the scene unfolding before us. My stomach plummeted, and I felt my feet root themselves to the spot.
Gordon and Cathrine.
In a compromising position.
Right there on the leather couch in what was clearly Jefferson's private bar.
Even though every instinct screamed at me to look away, I couldn't move. I stood there like a deer caught in headlights, watching them frantically grab for their scattered clothing.
My gaze dropped to the floor as heat flooded my cheeks. The awkwardness wasn't even mine to bear, yet it wrapped around me like a suffocating blanket. My heart hammered against my ribs as they scrambled to make themselves decent, their movements clumsy and desperate.
