Undressed By His Arrogance

"Ow!" she squeaked, her cheeks flushing scarlet.

"Sweet..." he drawled, still holding her hips possessively before letting go. "Now let’s have dinner before it gets cold." His wink was pure mischief — teasing, unapologetic, and dripping with satisfaction. Ivy shot him a mock glare, rubbing her stung backside as she slid off his lap.

She shuffled away, still muttering under her breath, and that was when something on the computer caught her eye. The glow of the screen reflected in her eyes — their photo, the one from the engagement party. Her smile faltered. "What’s this?" she asked softly, already reaching toward the laptop on the table.

Winn froze mid-motion. Shit. He had forgotten that the article was still open when he told her she could use his computer earlier. "Ivy, you don’t want to read that."

But curiosity pushed her forward. Ivy’s fingers brushed the keyboard, pulling the screen closer. The picture filled the display. It should have been beautiful. Instead, the bold headline above it turned her stomach cold.

She scrolled slowly, eyes scanning the lines that cut deeper with each word. "A twenty-one-year-old secretary turned fiancée of one of the country’s most eligible millionaires..." it began. Her throat tightened. The phrases that followed were worse — "drop out," "financially motivated," "an opportunist playing the sympathy card."

By the time she reached the end, her chest felt hollow. They called her a gold digger. A child playing princess for a price.

Her earlier excitement — her joy about her mum’s care, about the simple domestic happiness they’d just shared — drained from her face. Her hands trembled as she closed the lid of the laptop slowly.

"Ivy..." She could feel his gaze on her.

"I’m alright," she said.

Winn wasn’t fooled for a second. "Are you? Really?" he pressed gently, the edge of his thumb grazing her shoulder.

"I mean yeah," she said, forcing the corners of her lips upward. "You did warn me this was going to happen." She gave a weak laugh that died almost immediately, replaced by a shaky exhale. "Who cares what strangers think?"

"That’s easy for you to say," he murmured, reaching over to take the computer from her lap. "At least they call you a gold digger. What’s wrong with gold digging? They all but branded me a pedophile." He gave a dry laugh trying to ease the tension. "I’m thirty-seven, for Christ’s sake! Not eighty!"

Ivy blinked at him, surprised, before laughter bubbled up. Winn’s expression, frustrated and slightly self-conscious, was too adorable not to laugh at. "Looks like it bothers you," she teased, tilting her head, a playful glint finally returning to her eyes.

He groaned dramatically, dragging his hand down his face. "A little bit," he admitted. "I want to be perfect for you."

"You are perfect for me," she whispered. Her fingers slid under his jaw, tilting his face toward hers. The kiss she gave him was brief, tender — a silent reassurance. "Alright. Come on, dinner. Chop chop, Mr. Chef."

*****

Sylvia had the kettle on when Winn arrived back home. She turned as soon as she heard his footsteps. "Oh my God, Winn!" she gasped, rushing over. She threw her arms around him before he could even set his luggage down. "You... you look different."

He laughed, hugging her back. "I’ve been sunbathing," he said, flashing his usual lazy grin. The tan lines were subtle, but his relaxed energy gave him away — his shoulders weren’t as tense.

"Ah," Sylvia said knowingly, stepping aside as one of the maids appeared to carried Winn’s luggage in. "And where is Ivy?"

"At her house," Winn said. "I think she needs some breather from me."

Sylvia chuckled. "A breather from you?" she teased. "Impossible. Who needs a break from all this charm?"

"Apparently, my fiancée."

Her laughter deepened. "I was actually hoping to spend some time with her. I like Ivy," she admitted. "She’s refreshing."

"There’s that dinner Dad invited us to tomorrow," Winn said. "You can catch up with her then."

Sylvia wrinkled her face, wrinkling her nose. "I’m going to opt out of this one," she said.

Winn frowned immediately. "What’s going on?" he asked, reaching out to still her hand. "Did he do something to you? Did he say something?"

His protectiveness was instinctive, fierce even in small gestures. For all his charm and arrogance, when it came to the people he loved, Winn could be startlingly tender.

Sylvia smiled despite herself. Not really your brother. That cruel whisper had lived rent-free in her mind.

How could it possibly be true? Not when no one, not even their mother, had ever cared for her this fiercely.

"No... no... Winn," she said softly, forcing herself to keep her tone light even as her throat tightened. "It’s nothing like that."

"Then what is it?" he asked gently, searching her eyes.

"I asked Trish to come along with me tomorrow," she admitted and turned into the kitchen as the kettle began its whistle. "We’re scouting some hotspots where I can have a restaurant started up."

"You want to work again," he said, the excitement in his voice barely contained. His smile broke wide and boyish.

She smiled, unable to stop herself. "Maybe. I don’t know yet," she said, shrugging, pretending not to be moved by his reaction. "It’s just an idea for now. Tea?"

"Yes please." Winn walked behind her. Sylvia leaned over the counter, spooning tea leaves into two cups.

"Why maybe?" he asked.

"Just baby steps is what I’m taking," she said quietly, busying herself with the tea-making process. She didn’t want him to see how uncertain she still felt, how much she was trying to rebuild her confidence after everything that had happened.

"Let me know what you need when you decide."

"Of course," she murmured.

*****

The following evening, the second Winn saw Evans’ car glide up the drive, his gut twisted. Evans Everest. Of all people. And then he saw her — Irene — stepping out gracefully in a wine-red dress. Her hair had the same sheen it did when he last saw her, the same smile.