Third Person's POV
Blake folded his arms, his gaze sweeping over her before settling into a frown. "Aren't you showing a bit too much skin?" he said, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.
"Nah," Catherine spun around in front of the mirror twice, eyeing herself with approval. "It's totally fine."
"I can see half of it," Blake said, narrowing his eyes. "So can everyone else."
Catherine quickly adjusted her neckline, shooting him a glance. "That's because you're so tall. Others can't see what you see."
Blake's eyes narrowed further. "So you're ignoring what I say now?"
Catherine caught the warning in his eyes and forced a grin. "Of course not! How about you pick something for me? You've got great taste!"
Blake turned and selected a sky-blue one-shoulder chiffon dress with a layered skirt—a modest yet stylish choice.
Catherine frowned. "This color's for fair skin. I'm worried I can't pull it off."
"It suits you," Blake said, his gaze intense.
Catherine sighed but took the dress to try on. She preferred plain colors, thinking such a fairy-like style didn't fit her—she'd once been a total tomboy, after all.
Surprisingly, the dress fit perfectly.
She stepped out, her cheeks warming under Blake's focused gaze.
"How do I look?" she asked, a hint of insecurity in her voice.
"Good," Blake said simply.
Catherine's eyes lit up. "You've got an eye for fashion! Should I run my designs by you? You could point out the flaws."
Blake rubbed his forehead, but his eyes softened as he ruffled her hair. "If you don't mind my blunt feedback."
"Really?" Catherine beamed.
Blake nodded seriously.
Catherine felt Blake's charm radiating off him and couldn't resist throwing her arms around him—a bold move she'd never have made before marriage. Now, as his wife, she decided to seize every opportunity.
Blake stiffened momentarily at her initiative.
"Blake, have anyone ever told you that you have a restrained aesthetic in your suits?" Catherine said, admiring her new dress.
"What's that?" Blake asked, genuinely puzzled.
Catherine's smile widened. "It means looking like you don't crave anything."
"Me?" Blake's lips curled into a sly grin. "Who said that? I crave you plenty."
Catherine was instantly overwhelmed with pride and contentment.
"We're in a hurry, let's go!" she said, pulling him out of the store before she got too distracted.
After getting her hair and makeup done, Catherine dragged Blake to the event.
Upon arrival, they realized it was a charity gala filled with successful people from high society, most accompanied by their partners.
They ran into Cedrick and Benjamin, who informed them that Jessica and Eda weren't attending.
There were numerous journalists at the scene. Each guest was expected to donate something. Catherine whispered to Blake, "Are you donating too?"
"Mm, I plan to donate in your name," Blake replied.
"Me? That's too much..." Catherine was both surprised and embarrassed. She didn't expect him to do good deeds while giving her the credit. This was spoiling her, wasn't it?
If he kept this up, she feared she'd get spoiled rotten.
Blake took her cool hand in his. "It's not. I want to build you a good reputation so that wherever you go, no one will dare look down on you."
Catherine had only worn a dress without a coat for aesthetic reasons. Now that she was seated, she felt the air conditioning was a bit chilly.
She nodded, and Blake took his coat from the back of the chair, gently draping it over her shoulders.
Once the gala began, the atmosphere was somewhat stuffy. Guests took turns giving speeches on stage, including Blake, whose topic was the development of charitable endeavors.
Catherine sat in her seat, gazing up at Blake's elegant figure on stage.
He carried an air of maturity and stability. His deep voice and clear articulation made every word he spoke memorable.
This was Catherine's first time seeing Blake deliver a speech so confidently on stage. His self-assured demeanor fascinated her completely.
Many women in the audience were similarly captivated, openly admiring Blake.
A complex feeling suddenly welled up inside Catherine—perhaps this was the insecurity that came with being in love.
Earlier, when trying on the dress, Blake had forbidden her from wearing anything revealing. Now, he stood under the spotlight, allowing all the women to admire his charm.
This feeling mirrored what she had experienced in the fitting room—discomfort with no way to voice her protest.
After Blake's ten-minute speech, he stepped down. Many people greeted him along the way, and he responded politely with his signature smile.
Upon returning to their seats and noticing Catherine lost in thought, Blake leaned in close to her ear. "Conquered by my speech?" he murmured.
The warmth of his breath seemed to dissipate Catherine's earlier annoyance, and she laughed softly. "Yes, all the women here are charmed by you, ready to fall at your feet."
"Jealous?" A flicker of delight crossed Blake's eyes.
"Me? Never!" Catherine pouted, feigning innocence.
Blake, seeing through her, reached under the table and took her hand firmly, as if to say, "I'm yours and yours alone."
Catherine, never one to hold grudges, quickly forgot her earlier turmoil at his reassuring gesture.