Perhaps it was Oliver Bloom's gradually soothing breath, or maybe she had been suspended for too long, causing her waist and back to ache, Elise Don clutched her dress and climbed onto the passenger seat.
Just a moment ago, she was too engrossed, and the sketchbook was casually placed on the windshield. Oliver Bloom glanced at it but hadn't moved yet when Elise Don beat him to it, snatching the book back before she was fully seated.
All the items were hurriedly stuffed into the handbag.
"Obliviate!"
Elise Don pointed at Oliver Bloom's forehead, making a wand-waving gesture as if she was really casting a forgetting spell.
"Forget about what I wrote."
Oliver Bloom's hand formed a loose fist and he brought it to his lips, saying nothing, a wicked thought rising in his mind: perhaps one day, Elise Don could personally read aloud the words from the sketchbook to him.
And he would hold her down, step by step, and carry it all out.
