Chapter 137/Nothing pleases you

Chapter 137: 137/Nothing pleases you

Chapter 137

**Stephanie’s POV**

I began pulling out every single suit my eyes landed on in a breathless, completely random, and utterly frantic manner. And every single time, I received the exact same freezing, dismissive rejection. Absolutely nothing pleased him! Every cut, every style, and every single color was ruthlessly rejected the exact millisecond my fingertips touched it.

My hands genuinely began to ache from the continuous pulling and hanging, and even the lower quadrant of my abdomen was flaring with a sharp, continuous pain due to these cursed trousers mercilessly compressing my body and pelvis with every single turn. My breath hitched, a silent plea rising in my throat as the burning ache intensified.

I halted my movements with ragged exhaustion, dropping my hands in absolute surrender. "It appears that absolutely nothing here pleases you, Mr. Vincenti..." I whispered, my voice completely suffocated. "I am entirely helpless."

He adjusted his posture on the sofa with supreme arrogance, looking at my frame with a deeply scrutinizing, precise gaze. "Because you are selecting in an entirely superficial manner, Miss Miller. I do not see a single trace of your specific personal touch."

I knit my brows together in a bitter, sharp twitch, my stomach twisting with irritation. "What exactly is the meaning of these words?!"

He stood up to his full, towering height, looking down at my frame from above as he stated with heavy finality: "You are merely grabbing whatever suit your hands touch just to rid yourself of the task, without genuinely focusing on my actual personality and how to execute the correct choice."

My breathing fluctuated violently with intense agitation, and I sharply cut him off: "And do you expect me to invest my deepest emotions into a mere piece of fabric?!"

He shot back with freezing stability and burning confidence: "And that is precisely why I reject it. I despise your superficial choices."

Taking a deep breath to stabilize myself, I pressed my hand against my chest, stating in total exhaustion: "What exactly is required of my person now, then?"

He took a wide, sweeping step toward my position. "I want you to select something that you genuinely see as fitting for my character, not merely random choices to escape to your house."

*Damn this man!* Had he seriously noticed my complete lack of focus and my desperate desire to escape?! What kind of wretched creature was he... could he actually read the deepest thoughts inside my mind?! Dropping my eyes to the floor in total helplessness, I muttered in a lowered, broken voice: "You will not like what I choose based on my own vision."

He responded with rock-solid rigidity: "I will not know the outcome until I view the coordination myself."

I turned back toward the suits with highly cautious, serious, and utterly silent features. I realized deep within my soul that he fundamentally did not want a uniform, traditional suit that made him look like a cliché businessman. Altering the entire course of my professional thinking as a designer, I directed my steps toward the classic trousers hung carefully on a separate rack.

My trembling fingers extended and pulled out a pair of black trousers featuring a highly sophisticated, sharp cut that accentuated height. Next, I coordinated them with a crisp, stark white shirt featuring distinct silver buttons. Suddenly, a warm, exceptionally luxurious jacket crafted from a deep crimson velvet caught my eyes. I pulled it out with rapid, newfound confidence, gathering the pieces together over my arm.

Turning back to face him, I hoisted the coordinated layout with steady hands, my knuckles turning white as I held my breath. "What is your opinion on this specific combination?"

He locked an intensely focused gaze onto my frame, his eyelids narrowing heavily as he scrutinized the combination for several long seconds that felt like an entire eternity of lethal silence. Finally, he delivered in a calm tone that carried an underlying note of approval I wasn’t at all accustomed to: "Hmm... this actually looks like something I would wear tonight."

My eyes widened with sudden, explosive hope, the tone of my voice shaking with a touch of childish eagerness: "Do you genuinely like it?!"

He shifted from his position with calculated coldness, stating with manufactured detachment: "I will test the pieces first and see if I genuinely approve after they are on my body."

I nodded my head with extreme velocity. "Fine, try them on then."

Advancing with highly cautious steps, I carefully laid the pieces down on the table adjacent to the sofa. Suddenly, he turned around and stood directly before my frame in his full, terrifyingly massive height, standing at an exceptionally close distance. Locking his eyes deep into mine with unadulterated boldness, he delivered in a gravelly, deeply teasing hiss: "Do you desire to remain inside this room to watch and assist in removing the clothes, Miss Miller?"

I stared at him in total, absolute blankness, my mouth falling wide open. At first, my intellect completely failed to process the sheer audacity and brazenness of his words. Then, suddenly, the blood completely dried up in my veins from a hot, humiliating blush the exact millisecond I realized he was actively about to strip down and change his clothes! *Oh, damn my deep-rooted stupidity and blankness!*

I spun my frame around with extreme velocity, my head violently spinning with sharp disorientation.

I practically ran out of the dressing room with tensed, stumbling steps, aggressively slamming the heavy wooden door behind me with a slight tremor of force before leaning my entire shaking back flat against it. I began to breathe with immense difficulty, placing my hand over my violently thumping heart, desperately praying from the bottom of my soul that he would approve of what I had chosen.

Because if he didn’t... I would inevitably begin another endless, humiliating cycle of torture trying to satisfy his impossible, sick taste!

After a mere matter of brief minutes that felt like an absolute eternity due to my exhausted stance, his powerful voice boomed from the inside, cutting straight through the fabric of my anxiety: "Step inside, Miss Miller. I am finished."