Chapter 574

The expansive floor was bathed in light. In the elegantly minimalist living room, a few neatly arranged rattan chairs offered a touch of warmth, and two steaming cups of premium coffee sat invitingly on a table. Studio assistants stood poised to greet their guests. As Richard entered with Tiffany, they bowed respectfully, chorusing, "Good day, Mr. Hampton. Good day, Mrs. Hampton."

Richard replied with a lazy "Mm," continuing inside with Tiffany. Beyond the sitting area, a wedding dress, displayed on a pristine, well-lit platform, commanded attention with its luxurious simplicity. It glowed under the lights.

Richard held Tiffany's hand firmly but gently. When her eyes fell on the dress, Tiffany paused, captivated. It was stunning—the style, the tailoring, the sheer elegance. Radiating luxury without ostentation, it possessed an ethereal beauty. It was breathtaking.

"Do you like it?" Richard asked, his hand brushing her waist. He smiled slightly. "Go ahead, try it on."

Tiffany hesitated. She had just come from school, still in her uniform, and felt unprepared. Her shoes were inappropriate, and she wore no makeup. How could she try on such a dress?

Richard anticipated her concern. As he finished speaking, several female staff members stepped forward, bowing gracefully and saying in unison, "Mrs. Hampton, please follow us."

Realizing there was no point in refusing, Tiffany nodded, glancing back at Richard, whose eyes gleamed with anticipation. The warmth in his gaze made her cheeks flush. She allowed them to lead her into the dressing room.

The dress had a long, trailing hem, difficult to manage alone. However, the assistants worked swiftly and delicately, fitting the dress perfectly.

"Mrs. Hampton, please have a seat. I'll fix your hair," one assistant said with a smile.

"Thank you," Tiffany replied softly.

There was no mirror. She could only sit as the assistants worked. After about ten minutes, her hair was styled, and a light layer of makeup applied. Their awe-filled voices echoed, "You look so beautiful."

Tiffany smiled. Uncharacteristically, she didn't nod in self-satisfied agreement. Instead, she asked, "Is there a mirror?"

The enormous studio, tastefully arranged, lacked a mirror—an oddly conspicuous absence. An assistant stifled a laugh. "We don't keep mirrors in the studio. Our designer believes in showcasing the bride's most beautiful side to her groom first. So, Mrs. Hampton, you'll only see yourself when you step outside."

Tiffany nodded. An assistant approached with high heels, smiling warmly. "Please change into these, Mrs. Hampton. Then you'll be ready."

"All right." Tiffany slipped them on.

As she rose, the dressing room door opened. The assistants bowed slightly, their voices soft and respectful. "Mrs. Hampton, please."

Taking a deep breath, Tiffany stepped forward, her heart fluttering. This wasn't an official wedding; he knew her well, and there was nothing to conceal. Yet, nervous energy coursed through her, her heart pounding. Her face flushed.

Exhaling slowly, Tiffany steadied herself and walked out in her elegant heels. Richard had been waiting patiently, his usual composure betraying an unmistakable anticipation. His gaze drifted toward the changing room, revealing a rare eagerness.

Finally, the door opened. A figure in white emerged, moving gracefully. Tiffany's delicate features, lightly enhanced with makeup, radiated flawless beauty. The wedding dress hugged her slender frame, accentuating her swan-like neck and collarbones. A faint red mark on her neck added intrigue.

Richard's astonishment gave way to unguarded admiration. A slow smile spread across his face. Rising, he cut a dashing figure in his tailored suit. He looked handsome and charming.

Tiffany watched him approach, her heart skipping a beat, though a sly glint danced in her eyes. "Do I look good?" she teased.

"Yes," Richard replied without hesitation. He leaned closer, his hand encircling her slender waist. She looked effortlessly pretty and graceful.

Truly, Tiffany, his wife, was breathtakingly beautiful. Richard leaned in, inhaling softly. His smile deepened. "You smell good too."

It wasn't perfume, but a subtle, natural aroma—fresh herbs mingled with a hint of floral sweetness, uniquely seductive.

Tiffany blushed, playfully glaring. "Hey, there are so many people around. Don't be like that, okay?"

With a snap of his fingers, the crowd dispersed. "Now you don't have to worry," Richard said with a deep smile. "You can do whatever you want to me."

Tiffany blinked, momentarily confused. "That sounds more like something you would say," she replied, half-joking.

"Well then," Richard murmured, amused, "I can do whatever I want to you now."

A low chuckle reached her ears, and before she could react, his lips found hers. His kisses were slow and deliberate, trailing lower, igniting her senses until a whistle sounded, followed by laughter.

"Is this the legendary Mr. Hampton?" someone teased. "The cold and untouchable Mr. Hampton? Turns out he's no different than any other man!"

Tiffany's face turned crimson, but before her embarrassment surfaced, Richard shielded her with his arms and draped his suit jacket over her. He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze icy as it landed on the intruder. He growled, "Leave."

The man, however, strode in unabashedly, laughing. Tiffany peeked out and saw a man of similar age to Richard, impeccably dressed and confident. His features were striking, and his demeanor suggested familiarity with Richard. This was Eddie Murphy, the studio's owner, a world-renowned designer. Eddie's creations were sought after by celebrities and aristocrats, but he was arrogant, and few could convince him to take on projects.