THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 94: So, how is my outfit?

Chapter 94: So, how is my outfit?

"So, how is my outfit?" Angel asked casually, her voice light, though deep down, she was anticipating Tryson’s response more than she cared to admit.

She smiled at him, waiting, yet for some reason, an unsettling thought crept into her mind—one she wanted to push away.

She needed him to say something, anything, just so she could convince herself that he was truly the person standing before her.

Tryson remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable, before a slow smile spread across his lips.

He stepped closer, lifting a hand with deliberate ease, placing it gently on her shoulder. With a teasing glint in his eyes, he finally spoke.

"Of course, you look absolutely marvelous," he said, his words smooth, but something about them felt off.

Angel’s attention snapped to the sound of his voice—it was strangely hoarse, almost strained. And yet... the tone, the rhythm, it was undeniably his.

"Are you alright, Tryson?" she asked, trying to keep her curiosity in check, though her concern seeped through in her tone. "Your voice—it sounds sore."

"Yeah, it’s just a cold tone," Tryson said casually, his voice still carrying that hoarse edge. "I think I might have had too much of something that messed with my throat."

Angel raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "You didn’t smoke, did you?" she teased.

Tryson immediately shook his head, looking genuinely taken aback.

"What? How could you even think I’d want to smoke now?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

Angel let out a soft chuckle, the corners of her eyes crinkling with amusement.

"I just knew it’d be hilarious to see you this surprised, just like you were a few minutes ago," she said, her teasing gaze locked onto his.

A brief silence settled between them, the room filled with an unspoken tension that neither seemed in a hurry to break. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world outside that gaze ceased to exist.

"You know," Angel said, her voice light yet carrying an undeniable warmth, "you look quite handsome today."

Tryson’s lips curled into a smile, a softness filling his expression as he reached out.

His fingers brushed gently against her cheek, his touch lingering as he gazed at her with an unmistakable tenderness.

"And you," Tryson said smoothly, his voice carrying a playful warmth, "are like an enchanting angel, dazzling with your beautiful vibes."

Angel let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head at his charm. "You know what?" she mused, tilting her head slightly. "You deserve a kiss for that."

She stepped onto her heels, leaning in to meet his lips, but before she could close the distance, Tryson gently held her down by the shoulders, his touch light yet firm.

"I think we don’t want to smudge those pretty lips before the party," he said, flashing a teasing smile.

Angel chuckled, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Well then, I could always redo my lipstick," she countered, stepping even closer.

Her fingers curled around the hem of his tuxedo, her touch sending an undeniable spark between them. At that moment, Tryson felt like a dove trapped in her embrace—completely captivated.

She winked, her lips parting slightly as she leaned in again, but just as she moved closer, Tryson surprised her by placing a quick, featherlight kiss on her cheek instead.

"I think that’ll do," he said with a smirk. "Besides, I need to use the restroom."

Angel blinked in surprise before a smile spread across her face. Watching him grow so adorably timid under her gaze only made her amusement grow.

Or was it really Tryson standing in front of her?

The answer was clear now—obviously not.

And the realization sent a wave of unease through Angel.

But then, the question gnawed at her—who had Tryson called to take his place? Who was standing before her, pretending to be him?

Only one person could resemble Tryson this closely. But even with the striking similarity, a few key details gave the imposter away.

The first thing Angel noticed was his eyes. Tryson had unmistakable hazel eyes, yet the man before her wore colored contacts—a subtle but undeniable deception.

Then, her gaze flickered to his hand. Tryson always bore the distinct mark of a snake tattoo coiled along his skin. But this man? His hand was bare.

There was only one possible conclusion—Tryson had asked Samson to impersonate him.

But why?

What could have possibly driven him to involve his own brother in such a deception?

At that moment, Angel couldn’t help but wonder—what was Tryson hiding?

"Oh yeah? I wonder why you’ve suddenly turned into such a baby doll," Angel said mischievously, her eyes glinting with amusement as she noticed the faint sheen of cold sweat forming on Samson’s forehead.

It was clear—he was struggling to keep up the act, desperately hoping his disguise wouldn’t crumble.

Samson forced a mild smile, doing his best to maintain Tryson’s usual composure.

"Well... it must be the outfit," he said, carefully mimicking Tryson’s voice, though there was a slight hesitation in his tone.

Angel’s smile widened, reaching the corners of her cheeks, as she folded her arms across her chest. She could see right through him, but for now, she played along.

"Alright then," she said smoothly. "Go ahead and use the restroom. I’ll be right here, patiently waiting."

With that, she stepped aside, allowing him to leave. But as she watched him go, her smirk lingered—this game was just beginning.

After all, she figured he needed some space—to catch his breath after that little performance.

But as Angel stood there, a nagging thought crept into her mind.

What exactly was Tryson up to that he needed Samson to take his place? And more importantly, why had Samson agreed?

It didn’t add up.

Samson had never been particularly fond of her—especially after what happened months ago when she was pushed out of their lives. So why the sudden change? Why now?

Something wasn’t right. And Angel was determined to find out what.