The hotel suite buzzed with muted excitement—garment bags draped over chairs, makeup brushes scattered across the vanity, and the faint sound of reporters already gathering outside for the Heneral Luna premiere.

John adjusted his cufflinks in front of the mirror, tugging on the lapels of his tailored suit. The mustache he had kept for the role gave him a sharp, commanding look that even he wasn’t quite used to. He glanced at the bathroom door, impatience edging into his voice.

“Mi amor, are you almost done in there? We’re going to be late.”

Your muffled voice answered back. “Two more minutes! Don’t rush me.”

John sighed dramatically, checking his watch. “Two minutes in your language means ten.”

Finally, the door clicked open. You stepped out, smoothing the fabric of your gown—a black velvet mini dress that clung to your curves, highlighting its ruched texture and off-the-shoulder neckline. Short sleeves that added a touch of elegance, and the ruched fabric created a visually stunning, body-conscious effect. It had a hidden zipper at the back to ensure a seamless look, paired with subtle jewelry and a bold sweep of lipstick.

“Alright,” you said with a teasing smile, twirling slowly. “How do I look?”

John froze. For the first time that evening, words failed him. His jaw slackened, his hand halfway raised as if to adjust his tie, but he forgot the gesture altogether. His wife looked… breathtaking. Radiant. Devastatingly hot.

“You…” He cleared his throat, but his voice came out lower than intended. “You look like a sin I don’t deserve.”

You laughed, tilting your head. “Is that good?”

He dragged a hand down his face, groaning under his breath. “Dios mío, we’re supposed to be on the red carpet in fifteen minutes, and you come out looking like that?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with this?”

“Everything.” He stepped closer, his eyes tracing the lines of your dress, the dip of your neckline. “You’re so beautiful, I’m debating if it’s worth being late to my own premiere.”

You gasped in mock offense. “John!”

“I’m serious.” His hand brushed your waist, lingering just a little too long. “One quickie, and then we can go.”

You smacked his chest lightly, though your cheeks burned. “You are impossible. What would people say if Heneral Luna himself didn’t show up on time?”

“They’d say he had better things to conquer.” His grin turned wolfish as he leaned down to murmur in your ear. “Like his wife.”

You pushed him back with a laugh, though his warm breath sent a shiver down your spine. “We’ll be late, Romeo.”

He groaned, pressing a desperate kiss to your cheek before reluctantly stepping back. “Fine, fine. But after the premiere, no excuses. You owe me.”

Smirking, you picked up your clutch and slid your hand into his. “If you behave tonight, Heneral, maybe I’ll let you win that battle.”

John squeezed your hand, still looking at you like you were the only star worth noticing. “Behave? With you looking like that? Not a chance.”