Chapter 87

Greta and Charlie

"Would you like to go for a walk?" Charlie Lee's voice held a touch of melancholy, reflecting his usual mood. Tired of his life weighed down by depression and constant complaints, he longed to experience freedom, to escape the weight of negativity.

"Together?" Greta, momentarily interrupted, asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Of course, do you want to walk alone?" A cheerful voice responded from the door— the butler had entered, bringing a lightness to the conversation.

"Bring me the gift I prepared," Charlie instructed, his gaze focused on the door.

"A gift? Flowers?" Greta inquired, the excitement in her voice betraying her curiosity. She had grown accustomed to the small surprises Charlie often provided.

Though she was still uncertain of the nature of their relationship, she could not deny her enjoyment of these unexpected gestures. Cultural differences were a significant factor in their dynamic, especially given the Hollywood environment.

In the West, women led a more casual lifestyle, with little judgment passed on their relationships. If a man and a woman were both unmarried, they could change partners as frequently as they wished without fear of societal reprimand.

Moments later, the butler arrived with a large clothing rack, pushing it into the room. Various beautiful outfits were hung on the rack—everything from formal dresses to lace shirts, skirts, trousers, and more. Beneath the rack, several pairs of high-heeled shoes of various colors were arranged carefully.

Greta, having never seen these shoes before, immediately took an interest. She picked up a pair of khaki shoes and, upon inspection, noticed the heels were unusually high—at least two fingers' length—and incredibly narrow.

"Can you really wear these?" Greta asked, her tone a mix of surprise and skepticism.

"Of course, you should try them on," Charlie replied with confidence.

In his previous life, he had witnessed countless women who danced all night in sky-high heels without questioning their balance.

Curious, Greta then examined the clothing on the rack. She noticed something peculiar about the designs—each dress featured a daring neckline that extended all the way down to the chest, leaving little to the imagination.

"Just try it on," Charlie said with a mischievous grin. He walked over to a small cardboard box beside the rack, which he opened with a peculiar smile.

"What is this?" Greta asked, eyeing the item inside.

"Come on, let me help you put it on. It'll make you the sexiest woman in America," Charlie said, his grin widening.

Greta, unsure of what she was about to experience, followed his instructions. Charlie, with a wink, adjusted the piece, ensuring it was secure. He turned back to admire the look and felt a sense of triumph. The modern-day corset, while not overly practical, gave Greta a curvaceous silhouette.

"Just trust me, put on this V-neck skirt," Charlie said as he led Greta toward the changing area, still reveling in his design skills.

However, after hours of trying on different poses and standing in various positions, Greta found herself exhausted and sore.

"Is this supposed to shock America?" Greta asked, rubbing her legs, a mixture of exhaustion and frustration in her voice.

"Of course, we…" Charlie hesitated as he saw her shaking legs. "But don't worry. We'll have dinner soon, and you'll look incredible."

Greta gave him an exasperated look. "Take me inside. I need to rest."

Charlie, realizing she had only just gotten out of bed, carefully guided her back to her room, and they fell asleep, wrapped in each other's company.

When they awoke in the afternoon, the living room had been tidied up, and the once-troublesome V-neck skirt had vanished. Greta opted for a white lace shirt, light pink high-waisted tights, and a pair of 6 cm silver-pointed heels—her outfit now more refined and sophisticated than before.

The heels' design was distinctive, featuring sleek metallic accents and a delicate cutout design that showcased the foot in an elegant way.

Charlie had personally commissioned these designs from a top-tier Hollywood shoemaker, rejecting the suggestion of satin for a more bold and utilitarian approach to high heels.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Greta turned around, still astonished by the transformation. "Did you hire a designer from London?" she asked, admiring her figure now accentuated by the clothing.

Charlie smiled at her, pleased with the results. "Perfect. Now, let's go out and surprise everyone."

As they walked to the restaurant, Greta felt a rush of excitement. She could tell she was being noticed and the thrill of flaunting her look began to rise within her. Women, for centuries, had always sought to display their beauty, and Greta, like many before her, was embracing this age-old desire.

As they entered the restaurant, the room erupted in whispers.

"Oh my God, is that Garbo?" someone exclaimed.

Gasps filled the air as patrons recognized the woman they all had admired from afar—the mysterious, elegant actress of Hollywood fame.

"My God, it's really Garbo," another voice added, astonished by her presence.

Greta, or rather "Garbo" as she was now being called, couldn't help but feel a sense of power as the room reacted to her appearance. She glanced over at Charlie, who was trying to suppress a smile, his hand still gently resting on her arm.

A mix of admiration and jealousy filled the air. The men, mesmerized by her beauty, began murmuring amongst themselves. "Look at those heels, so thin, yet they don't look awkward at all," one man remarked.

"Did you see her neckline?" another woman asked. "It's so daring, so bold."

One curious lady, inspecting her attire, couldn't help but comment, "Where is the fabric on her chest? Is it missing?"

"The collar is too revealing," another woman argued.

Amidst all the chatter and raised eyebrows, Charlie and Greta sat calmly at their table, continuing to enjoy the evening.

After a few moments of hushed surprise, the waiter arrived with the menu, still flustered.

"Do you have tomato and egg noodles?" Charlie asked nonchalantly, his eyes scanning the menu.

The waiter stared blankly at him, clearly confused. "Tomato and egg noodles? What is that?"

Sighing, Charlie quickly changed his order to something more fitting for the restaurant. "Two lamb chops, three top-tier steaks, medium rare," he said, handing the menu back to the waiter.

As the waiter hurried off, Greta leaned in slightly, smiling to herself. She had become the center of attention, just as Charlie had promised.

The restaurant now buzzed with excitement and admiration, all thanks to her captivating presence.

As they settled into their dinner, Charlie couldn't help but reflect on the power of media and celebrity. Garbo, once a mysterious icon of the silver screen, was now more than just an actress—she was a phenomenon.

The evening unfolded, but as Charlie observed Greta, now the undeniable center of attention, he couldn't help but feel both pride and a touch of mischief.

"Do you think they'll make a movie about you, Garbo?" Charlie mused aloud.

Greta, still basking in the admiration, responded with a sly smile, "If they do, I hope they call it 'Garbo Laughs.'"

Charlie laughed, feeling the thrill of their legendary life together in America.