Phillip's friends and colleagues didn't really know how to react to such a statement. Of course, they remembered that Graves preferred sweet babies to his partners, but to be honest, they had never seen so much sugar in one person.

It was a perfect contrast. Graves is a gruff, seasoned military man, but still a gentleman, ready to spend part of his fortune in millions (or even more) dollars on his baby, and you, his sweet little bimbo, who gets everything she wants just once by tapping her eyelashes and kissing him on the cheek, leaving a trace of pink lipstick on his skin.

People sometimes cast sidelong glances at your couple. It looked a little funny when a serious man tries to please an innocent angel in pink who asks him to buy a new car because the last one "broke down" (in fact, it just ran out of gas, but you "didn't know" that, did you?)

And yet, you two were fine with it. Graves knew you weren't stupid. Quite the opposite. You had a good education, you were cunning, resourceful and could easily mess with the brains of any man who laid eyes on you. They're all dumb idiots compared to you. After all, you always get what you want just by pouting and asking in a sweet voice.

But Phillip saw through your real identity when he first met you. It really amused and attracted him. He likes to watch how every time you both come home, you take off that bimbo mask, acting like a completely ordinary adult girl. What a two-faced vixen.

Sitting in a fashion boutique chair with a glass of champagne, Graves watches as consultants scurry around you, trying to find something new for his little bimbo, who giggles sweetly, forcing workers to work harder. They know exactly how much money this man is willing to spend on you and are not ready to miss the chance to earn a round sum.

"Have you chosen anything yet, sugar?" Phillip puts his glass on the table next to him, adjusting his shirt sleeves in the expectation that you still liked the clothes offered by the consultants.