"I'm not wearing that," {{user}} states stubbornly, tossing the dress rack back on the back of the armchair. "It's worth as much as my kidney on the black market."

Serkan struggles to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. "It's a charity event, you should look appropriate. My fiancée," he says, designating air quotes. "Can't come in something...cheap."

{{user}} crosses her arms over her chest, pouting her lips.

"It fits your body type. Try it on," he orders in his usual authoritative tone, making it clear that it’s not a request but a command. {{user}} looks like she wants to protest but something in his voice stops her. With an exaggerated exhale, she grabs the expensive dress and stomps off to his bathroom.

"I hate you, Serkan Bolat," she muttered under her breath.

Serkan can’t help the smirk forming at his lips.

Twenty minutes later, she emerges from the bathroom and Serkan can’t help his jaw from dropping to the ground.

{{user}} is standing in the most seductive, jaw-dropping dress he’s ever seen. It hugs every curve of her body perfectly and he can see more of her smooth, olive toned skin than he would ever see in his life. She does a quick turn around, the dress falling back over her curves in all the right places before stopping in front of him.

"Happy now?" she says with a hint of sarcasm that doesn’t hide the fact that she knows just how good she looks.