Chapter 79

Before Winnie could get more gossip, a waiter entered carrying a pile of large boxes. Dust bags, paper bags, and shoe boxes bearing various logos filled the living room to the point where there was barely any space to move. Silk, satin, tulle, sequined, and beaded gowns of all styles were spread across the couch. A few sales assistants were busily using portable steamers to smooth out the wrinkles from transport before hanging the dresses on rolling racks. Winnie stood there, stunned by the scene before her. Meanwhile, Anna inspected the clothes and explained, 'There are three more batches on the way—everything from red-label to blue-label brands." Anna checked her watch. 'Since we're short on time and you're still recovering, we won't try everything. Just try on the ones you like." Winnie stared at the mountain of clothes, already feeling exhausted. Her whole body still ached. Wandering between the racks of dresses, she asked, 'Did Mr. Marlowe send all these for me? Did he mention why?" These weren't haute couture gowns, so she couldn't take them to a red carpet event, and she doubted Van would fly her here just to pick out dresses for no reason. 'This is about your schedule tomorrow night. It's likely for a cocktail party on a yacht or something similar." Winnie nodded. Once again, Van had everything arranged for her. She slipped off her pajamas, preparing to start trying on dresses. Suddenly, her expression changed. Wait—she hadn't worn a bra since last night? Had he seen everything? Noticing her reaction, Anna asked, confused, 'What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?" Winnie's mind spiraled into chaos as she frantically replayed everything that had happened last night. She had clung to Van's chest, brushed against his arms and legs, and— Oh, no... what had she done? No, wait... what had "Van" done last night? Winnie glanced awkwardly at Anna, who had been left to the side, but she couldn't care about formalities at this point. She blurted out, 'Anna, I have a somewhat private question. Does it hurt when your... boyfriend... rubs your... um, chest?" Anna raised an eyebrow. 'Depends on how hard he does it. If it's a normal touch, it doesn't hurt. But if he grabs roughly, then yeah, it can be painful." Winnie took a deep breath. That was somewhat reassuring. Anna, noticing her bashful and innocent expression, smirked. 'Miss Loxley, don't tell me... you've never had any experience?" Winnie's face turned crimson as she protested, 'The entertainment industry is chaotic! I'm scared of getting a disease!" 'And you and Van... haven't either?" Anna asked, lowering her voice conspiratorially. Winnie frantically shook her head, looking horrified at the question. To distract herself, she focused on trying on dresses, but her thoughts kept wandering to Van and that hand of his—those long, slender fingers, graceful and distinct. Had those hands touched her anywhere else last night? After about an hour of trying on clothes, Winnie chose a deep burgundy mermaid dress with pearl shoulder straps and a daringly low back. She paired it with a short white velvet cape. The sales team handled the rest of the accessories for her. Once everything was settled, Anna left. Winnie changed back into her pajamas and flopped onto the bed. Suddenly, a thought struck her. She had seen the doctor last night, and her dress had been lifted up. Did the doctor see anything? Could someone have taken pictures? Mortified by her recklessness and feeling extremely frustrated, she grabbed her phone and called Van. 'Mr. Marlowe, did I accidentally have an upskirt moment last night?" she asked directly the moment the call got connected. Van nearly choked at her question. Covering his reaction, he gestured discreetly to those around him before stepping out of the conference hall and into the lounge. Van recalled how Winnie looked last night, and indeed, there had been some exposure. Her nightgown was so loose, constantly rubbing against her neck, and he had gotten an unobstructed view of the scene inside. As a result, he had also become aroused, so he had to keep pushing her down and putting her clothes back on. Thinking back now, he couldn't help but feel a bit aroused again. Van cleared his throat, regaining his cold, composed demeanor. 'No." Winnie yelled on the other end, 'No way! Did the doctor see everything?" Van sighed with relief, reassuring her, 'No, I covered you with a coat when he arrived." 'Mr. Marlowe, what about when he wasn't here?" Winnie's heart sank. Van responded quickly and decisively, 'I'm sorry."