Chapter 74: Master Iker's Eccentric Taste

The man requiring Iker's personal attention was undoubtedly a VIP. But why did Cheyenne have to go?

"I'm sorry, but I won't go. I'm your doctor, not your companion. You should find someone else," Cheyenne said, turning to leave.

Iker dismissed the servants and wheeled his chair into her bedroom—or rather, his bedroom. He had graciously given up his room for Cheyenne the previous night, sleeping in the adjacent guest room.

"Miss Lawrence, do you see any other women in my villa?" he asked pointedly.

"You can bring Tanner with you."

"Tanner is male."

"He can cross-dress."

"That's too conspicuous."

Tanner, who had just arrived at the door, looked distraught. "Miss Lawrence, please don't trick me again. I can't dress as a woman! I'm a real man!"

"Master Iker, Master Kai urges you to hurry."

"I understand." Iker's cold gaze sent Tanner scurrying away.

Alone with Cheyenne, Iker said, "Miss Lawrence, just collaborate with me for a performance! You can set your own conditions."

Cheyenne's expression clearly asked, "Why?"

He could have chosen not to bring a maid. Iker's explanation followed immediately: "If I go alone, I'll be suspected if I feign illness and leave early."

He wanted to pretend to be sick and leave early.

Cheyenne thought for a moment, arms crossed, her face serene and lovely. A mischievous glint then flashed in her eyes. She held up five fingers.

"500,000?" Iker blurted out.

She gasped. "Wh-what?"

"Five million? Deal. I'll pay you that. Hurry and change your clothes."

It was simply accompanying him to a banquet, but for five million, she wouldn't miss the opportunity. "Fine, I'll give you face today!"

Cheyenne sighed and reached for the champagne-colored gown. It was a haute couture dress she'd seen at fashion week; she'd liked it but hadn't found it for sale. How did he acquire it? She recalled its price exceeding three million. This man was undeniably wealthy.

"Hurry and change."

"Go outside! Don't you know about personal space?" Cheyenne retorted, rolling her eyes.

He chuckled softly. "Miss Lawrence, are you perhaps mistaken?"

"What?"

Cheyenne, following his gaze to her empty bedroom, realized her mistake. The room contained only a bed and a dresser; were it not for the luxurious velvet bed, it would have resembled a prison cell. This minimalist style was Master Iker's aesthetic.

"This is your bedroom!" she exclaimed. How had she ended up in Iker's bedroom?

He nonchalantly hummed, confirming it. Her shocked expression pleased him. This woman had an adorable, clueless side.

"I saw you asleep on the couch like a log after dinner last night, so I carried you here to prevent you from catching cold," he explained.

"But you have other rooms!" Cheyenne asked incredulously. Such a large villa couldn't have only one spare room!

Iker nodded. "I don't like having many guests, and to be economical, there are only four rooms: one for Tanner, one for me, two for maids, and the guest room where you treated me." The remaining rooms lacked even doors. No one would steal anything; there was nothing to steal.

Iker's military background influenced his home life. Besides essential books and electronics, he owned minimal clothing. "Minimalism!" he declared.

"I curse you to marry a drama queen who will fight you daily over your stinginess!" Cheyenne gritted her teeth, taking her clothes into the bathroom.

The bathroom was equally sparse. Very Master Iker. Fortunately, the maid had thoughtfully provided toiletries, including facial cleanser.

After washing, Cheyenne donned the dress and emerged. Iker was stunned by her beauty. The dress perfectly suited her, accentuating her figure and revealing a hint of cleavage through the sheer gauze. Her proportions were model-like, her wavy hair cascading down to complement the champagne-colored mermaid skirt. She moved with a sensual grace. Iker, experienced with beautiful women, found Cheyenne uniquely comforting.

"Stunned?" she smirked, running a hand through her hair. "Don't fall for me."

Iker coughed, nearly choking. "Look at yourself, a divorced woman. Are you worthy of me?"

Cheyenne leaned closer, playful and fragrant from her shower. "Master Iker, your words are outdated. Divorced women are quite popular now."

"Nonsense!" Iker exclaimed.

"Since you're ready, let's go downstairs. The stylist is waiting."

Iker left silently, his solitary figure a stark contrast to Cheyenne's words echoing behind him: "A stylist?" The frugal man had hired a stylist for her!