Chapter 5 Flipping The World Upside Down

Ciara's POV

What do you do when your boss buys you lingerie? You threaten him. Then wear it.

I stared at the paper bag like it was radioactive.

This couldn't be real. This couldn't be my life.

My fingers trembled as I peeled back the tissue paper. The dress was there-flowing, floor-length, crimson red, with delicate straps and a slit that looked like it was designed by a sadist. It screamed "trophy wife." Not "accidentally-proposed-while-drunk secretary."

But that wasn't what made me blink twice.

Nestled right underneath it, as innocent as you please, was a piece of black lace so small it could be mistaken for a very determined napkin.

I yanked it out with two fingers, horrified. "Oh hell no."

Lingerie. Real, luxurious, I-could-hear-it-breathe lingerie. With a tiny card that said, "Wear this. Or don't. But I think you will. -L.E.:"

That arrogant, suited menace.

My first instinct was to storm out of the bathroom, slap the life out of Lysander Eryx, and walk straight into immigration with my wrists outstretched. Deportation be damned.

But the dress... it was designer. Heavy silk. It shimmered in the dull fluorescent light like sin.

And the heels? Red-bottomed. The price tag alone probably could've sponsored my green card.

God, I hated how beautiful it all was.

Grumbling under my breath and questioning all my life choices, I stripped down and slipped into the lace first-because apparently my dignity had checked out hours ago. Then came the dress, which hugged me like a secret and flowed like confidence I didn't have. I stared at myself in the mirror and barely recognized the girl staring back.

She looked expensive. Composed. The kind of woman who belonged on Lysander's arm-not the girl who once cried into a burrito over a failed campaign pitch.

I walked out of the bathroom and immediately regretted it.

Lysander was leaning against the wall like he'd stepped out of a cologne ad. And when his eyes landed on me, they did a slow, unapologetic glide from the slit on my thigh to the neckline dipping just enough to be risky.

He didn't say anything at first. Just looked at me like he could see straight through the silk and into the lingerie underneath.

"Stop undressing me with your eyes," I snapped, cheeks burning.

He raised an eyebrow. "Too late."

"I swear, Lysander, if you make one more comment-"

"Just admiring my investment."

My mouth dropped open.

"Your investment?"

He shrugged, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "I paid for it. Technically, that makes me the sponsor of this transformation."

"Technically, I should slap you." I whispered in the air, wanting to go physical on him as he was annoying me so much.

"You wouldn't." He said those with so much pride. It seems as though he was so sure of what was going to happen if I attempt to let my hands touch a bit of skin on his face.

"Try me."

He chuckled, low and maddening, before reaching out a hand. "Give me the bag."

"No," I said immediately, clutching it tighter to my chest like it held nuclear codes.

His brow arched. "Why not?"

"My old clothes are in here." I looked down, feeling embarrassed even though there is absolutely no reason for me to be feeling ashamed of.

I mean yeah, my clothes are here. Is that his problem? I will bring this home.

He looked at me with a confused face. "And?"

"And I don't need you inspecting my garments like you're running an auction."

A beat of silence.

Then he said, all too casually, "Are we talking about the ones with the little strawberries on them or the ones that say 'Nope' on the waistband?"

I nearly combusted.

"You went through my clothes?!"

Oh my God, I cannot believe this! Is there a surveillance camera in the comfort room? Was he watching me strip my clothes away?

"You perverted man. Have you installed a camera in the comfort room?" I attempted to go back inside to check for myself. He was being creepy! I cannot believe this at all.

He had the audacity to look amused. "It was a quick glance when your buttons were loosened. I'm very observant."

Damn... it was on the elevator. But it was just my bralette, how the hell did he see my undies?

"You're insufferable."

"You're wearing the lingerie."

"I had no choice!"

"There's always a choice," he murmured, his gaze dropping to the bag I was still holding hostage. "But thank you for choosing me."

That shut me up. How the hell can he pull that words with a straight face? I cannot believe this man at all.

Is he even real? I have never heard a billionaire with a crack in the head.

"Thank you because I just found a toy I could play with for as long as I want." He made it seem like he bought me.

I turned away, cheeks aflame. "Let's just get this announcement over with before I change my mind and strangle you with this dress."

He walked beside me, hands in his pockets, voice amused. "Please don't. It cost twelve thousand dollars."

"Then I'll strangle you with the lace."

"That cost fifteen."

I groaned.

We walked toward the elevator, and just before the doors closed, he glanced down at me and whispered, "You look beautiful, by the way."

I didn't respond.

But my heart did a little pirouette I didn't authorize.

I am not supposed to be feeling fluttery jumps on my chest or butterflies in my stomach because he is annoying. I want to get rid of him already! One year would only feel like a whole lot of torture. I don't even want to wake up and see him at all! I need a separate life.

"Well, that is given since I know you wouldn't agree to a damn marriage with me if you don't find me beautiful."

He turned his head at me and I knew he was pissed off by how my head grew by his compliment.

I raised my brows at him, "Am I wrong?"

God, I can't believe how I ran my mouth.