"There's a dinner party tonight. Don't embarrass me." Charles Yin tossed out the words and vanished from Cecilia Gu's sight.
Cecilia felt a wave of relief wash over her.
She couldn’t explain it—renewing her lease was perfectly reasonable, but she still felt a vague, guilty unease.
Even she couldn’t pinpoint the source of her guilt; it was just that facing Charles Yin made her nervous.
As long as he didn’t ask where she’d gone today, she didn’t care what kind of dinner party he was attending…
Wait a minute—what did he just say?
A dinner party tonight? And he doesn’t want her to embarrass him? Was he actually planning to bring her along?
Oh god, she hadn’t learned a thing yet—how could she possibly go…
It was only now that Cecilia realized what was happening. She wanted to ask Charles Yin what kind of event it was, if she could get out of it, but honestly, she didn’t have the nerve right now.
She’d already annoyed him quite a bit these last couple of days, and Charles Yin’s temper was unpredictable—he could be angry in a heartbeat.
Forget it. She’d better not ask.
Worst case, she could just focus on the food.
Mrs. Zhang approached and said warmly, "Young Madam, you’re home. Young Master asked the stylist to come by soon for your makeup, and the bathwater is ready. You can take a bath now."
"Okay," Cecilia replied gloomily, heading to her room for a bath.
As she showered, Cecilia kept turning things over in her mind: What exactly did Charles Yin mean by this? They were just married on paper—her only responsibility was to take care of herself and deliver the baby.
Why would he want her at a dinner party?
If he needed a date, there were plenty of women at the company—who wouldn’t jump at the chance to go with him?
She was just an assistant team leader—wasn’t her rank a little too low for this?
Still puzzling over it, Cecilia took a quick, almost military-style shower.
Sure enough, before she’d even finished drying her hair, the stylist had arrived.
Cecilia stood there, letting the stylist hold up one evening gown after another for her to try.
"No need to make it so complicated. Just pick one," Cecilia couldn’t help but say.
Before the stylist could answer, a voice sounded behind Cecilia: "Tonight isn’t just any party. You’re representing Yin Enterprises."
Cecilia turned to see Charles Yin, already dressed.
He wore a perfectly tailored black suit that made him look strikingly handsome and charming.
His neatly trimmed sideburns and sharp, slightly upturned eyes gave him an air of regal authority.
"This one," Charles said, pointing to the dress in the stylist’s hands. "It looks good."
The stylist quickly handed Cecilia the dress Charles had chosen.
But when Cecilia put on the dress, she realized it was a bit too big.
"Young Madam, you’re so slim! This is Chanel’s newest and smallest size, but your waist is still a little loose. No worries, I can alter it quickly," the stylist—a plump, cheerful woman in her forties—said with a gentle smile. Cecilia couldn’t help but smile back. "It’s fine," she replied.
Charles stood at the doorway, his gaze lingering on Cecilia’s waist.
She was more than two months pregnant, yet her waist was still so slender.
If he didn’t know she was expecting, anyone might mistake her for a schoolgirl.
The stylist quickly fetched some scissors and snipped open the dress, ready to adjust the zipper.
Just then, the stylist realized she’d forgotten her sewing kit. Glancing around, she saw only Charles and Cecilia in the room.
Not daring to trouble Charles, the stylist turned to Cecilia: "Young Madam, could you pinch this spot for me? I’ll go grab my sewing kit."
"Ah, sure," Cecilia said, awkwardly reaching back to pinch the spot. The stylist hurried downstairs.
Seeing Cecilia struggle to hold the dress, Charles instinctively stepped forward and helped her keep it in place.
"Th-thank you…" Cecilia stammered, tensing up as she felt Charles’s presence so close.
Charles’s gaze drifted down to Cecilia’s fair, delicate neck, now tinged with pink.
Charles’s gaze shifted, landing on Cecilia’s delicate earlobe, now flushed a deep red.
From his angle, Charles could see the gentle curve of her chest, and the sight made something flicker in his eyes.
This little minx... was actually blushing?
The discovery seemed to amuse Charles. He noticed a strand of Cecilia’s hair caught in her collar and, almost unconsciously, reached out to smooth her long black hair.
Her hair was so black, so shiny, so soft and smooth—like silk, impossible to resist.
Cecilia felt Charles’s touch and tensed up again.
What was Charles Yin trying to do?
Did he even realize how intimate—how suggestive—this gesture was?
Even though she was married to him and carrying his child... they were only married by contract.
How could he just...
Charles noticed Cecilia’s ears had turned so red they looked ready to bleed. A thought flashed through his mind: What if he kissed that little ear—how would she react?
But before he could do anything, Cecilia had reached her limit.
"M-Mr. Yin, I... I can do it myself," Cecilia stammered, clutching her chest and pulling away from him.
Caught off guard, Charles let go of the dress, and her smooth, bare back was suddenly exposed to his gaze.
Charles’s eyes darkened instantly.
He hadn’t expected this little minx to have such a stunning figure.
Seeing Cecilia instinctively shy away, Charles didn’t get angry. Instead, his gaze grew curious and searching.
Cecilia stood there, stiff as a board, not daring to look back at Charles.
This is too much, way too much.
When he’d gathered her hair just now, Cecilia felt a jolt of electricity run down her neck!
What was that? The feeling was so strange, so unexpected.
Oh god, she’d never felt anything like this before!
Not even when she was with Zach Zhao had she ever felt this way.
Why did his touch feel electric?
She must have looked so foolish just now.
"We’re not at the office—you can call me by my name," Charles said, his voice low and magnetic, making Cecilia’s ears burn even hotter.
"Ch-Charles Yin…"
"Just call me Charles," he interrupted.
Cecilia froze. Why did he want her to be so familiar? Was it really okay?
Was this some kind of practice for tonight’s dinner? What role was she supposed to play?
Was she going as his wife? Or just an assistant team leader?
"Charles…" Cecilia, still unsure of his meaning, obediently replied, "I’ll just work with the stylist here. The room’s small, and there’s nowhere to sit…"
Her voice trembled, and she still didn’t dare turn to look at him.
If she dared look back now, she’d see the intense, dazzled look in Charles’s eyes.
Charles almost wondered if something was wrong with his ears.
He’d heard his name spoken by countless women in all kinds of voices, but none had ever sounded as sweet as when Cecilia said it.
How strange—why did his name sound so beautiful coming from her lips?
Just then, the stylist rushed back upstairs, breathless. Seeing Cecilia’s bare back, she quickly helped her fix her dress. "Sorry, sorry! I finally found the Chanel thread. Each designer has their own stitching style, so I always keep the right threads on hand for alterations."
As soon as the stylist entered, Charles turned and left. "I’ll wait for you downstairs."
With that, Charles almost seemed to flee the room in embarrassment.
Once he was gone, Cecilia finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Whew, that was so tense—she’d nearly died of nerves.
The stylist really was fast.
In just a few minutes, she’d finished fixing the dress.
Cecilia looked at the altered dress and gasped, "Wow, it’s unbelievable—it looks almost brand new!"
The stylist beamed with pride. "Of course! I know the stitching styles of all the big brands by heart. Chanel is the one I work on most often."
"Why’s that?" Cecilia asked, unable to hide her curiosity.
"Unlike you, most people’s waists aren’t this slim, so they need alterations," the stylist admitted sheepishly. "Like me, for example."
Cecilia couldn’t help but smile.
After helping Cecilia into the dress, the stylist started on her hair and makeup.
Cecilia sat patiently, letting the stylist work on her face.
Half an hour later, the stylist finally breathed a sigh of relief. "All done! Wow, Young Madam, you’re the easiest client I’ve ever had. Your skin is so good, just a touch of makeup is enough. See for yourself!"
Cecilia opened her eyes and looked in the mirror, as if she were seeing herself on her wedding day all over again.
She’d been just as beautiful that day, but so much had happened since then.
The stylist, worried Cecilia didn’t like the look, hurried to say, "If you’re not happy, I can change it…"
Cecilia forced a smile at her reflection. "No, I just remembered something sad. You did a wonderful job—it’s beautiful. I really like it, thank you!"
Hearing Cecilia’s answer, the stylist finally relaxed.