Olivia's POV
I sat on my couch, fidgeting with the hem of my emerald dress. The fabric felt smooth against my skin, a constant reminder of Christopher's extravagance. My heart raced as I glanced at the clock for the millionth time. 6:52 PM. Any minute now.
The doorbell rang, startling me so badly that I nearly fell off the couch. I took a deep breath, smoothed my dress, and opened the door.
Holy mother of... Christopher stood there in a perfectly tailored suit. His eyes raked over me, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
"Well, well," he said, smirking. "Don't you clean up nice?"
I tried to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. "You don't look so bad yourself."
"Darling, I look fantastic, and you know it." He stepped closer, his cologne enveloping me. "But you... you look absolutely delectable."
"Thanks," I squeaked.
His smirk widened. "So, tell me... are you wearing those panties I suggested?"