Chapter 213

Chapter 213
Andrei: POV

The crowd surged around me like a living organism, hands reaching from every direction.

My security team struggled to maintain order, their usual efficiency compromised by my strict "don't hurt the fans" policy.

These people had paid to see my films, after all. They deserved some respect—even if they were currently threatening to tear my clothes off.

"Mr. Wilson, we need to move!" Steven shouted, his normally composed demeanor cracking as a teenage girl nearly broke through the security line.

I scanned the sea of faces, ignoring the smartphones thrust in my direction.

Where was Clara? She was supposed to meet me here to help cultivate my family-man image for the Mexican media. That image was crucial for my next production's funding.

My phone buzzed. Amelia, my PR manager:
[Situation getting out of control. Have Clara extract you immediately.]

Before I could even pocket my phone, I spotted Clara at the edge of the crowd.

Her expression shifted from anxious to determined as our eyes met.

She pushed through the crowd with surprising force for someone so small, her face set with concentration.

Something stirred in my chest watching her fight her way toward me.

This wasn't the carefully choreographed public appearance we'd planned.

This was Clara taking initiative, showing a boldness I rarely saw from her outside professional settings.

When she finally reached me, her hand grasped mine firmly. "We need to get inside," she said, her voice barely audible above the screams of "¡Andrei, te amo!"

I tightened my grip on her hand, allowing her to pull me through the path Steven and his team had managed to clear.

Once inside the upscale shopping center, the heavy doors muffled the chaos behind us, and I pulled Clara against my side, my arm locked around her waist.

"Wow!" I leaned down to speak directly into her ear, inhaling the subtle scent of her perfume. "You're both clever and sharp."

She looked up at me, surprise flickering across her face at the compliment. Her lips curved into a small, tentative smile. "And?"

I felt my own mouth responding with a grin. "And brave..." I paused, then added, "and completely mine."

The words slipped out before I could analyze them, and I watched in satisfaction as her cheeks flushed pink.

We made our way to the luxury brand store where I had an ongoing partnership.

The store manager approached immediately, his professional smile firmly in place.

"Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson," he said, inclining his head slightly. "How may I assist you today?"

"Show my wife your best collections," I replied curtly, not bothering to hide my impatience.

Clara subtly rolled her eyes at my rudeness, a gesture that would have irritated me from anyone else but somehow amused me coming from her.

"Of course, Mr. Wilson. It would be our pleasure," the manager replied smoothly, completely unfazed.

He turned to Clara with a respectful nod. "Mrs. Wilson, please follow me."

The manager introduced a young sales assistant named Jenny, who stared at me with such undisguised awe that I felt a flash of annoyance.

Her frozen posture and wide eyes were tiresome—I'd seen this reaction thousands of times.

"Miss," I said sharply, "you're here to assist my wife, not me. So, wake up."

Jenny's face flushed crimson as she stammered an apology and turned her attention to Clara, leading her toward the women's section.

I watched as Clara moved hesitantly between racks of clothing, careful not to touch anything.

From my years working with her, I knew her wardrobe consisted of practical, professional pieces. Nothing like the extravagant designs surrounding her now.

When Jenny asked if anything caught her eye, Clara's response was soft but clear: "Um... no. They're not really my style."

I found myself moving toward them, drawn by some inexplicable pull.

I approached silently, enjoying the small gasp of surprise when Clara sensed my presence behind her.

Without hesitation, I reached past her to select a metallic pink sequined crop top with a matching mini skirt—something provocative and entirely unlike her usual conservative attire.

"Andrei, I'm not a teenager. I don't wear clothes like that!" she protested, her eyes widening with shock.

I grinned, leaning in close enough that my breath stirred the hair near her ear. "Baby, try it on for me. I want to see how my sexy wife makes this sexy outfit even sexier."

I pulled her gently against me, aware of Jenny discreetly backing away to give us privacy.

Clara's resistance melted, her body relaxing against mine. "Fine," she whispered.

The single word carrying a hint of breathlessness that sent a surge of satisfaction through me.

I watched her disappear into the fitting room, clutching the outrageous outfit I'd selected.

The sight of her retreating figure stirred something possessive in me—something that had been growing steadily since our night together in Mexico City.

Leaning against the wall outside the fitting rooms, I scrolled through emails on my phone, occasionally glancing up to ensure the store staff kept their distance.

Clara was taking longer than expected, and I found my attention drifting from my inbox to the closed fitting room door.

When the door finally opened, I looked up from my phone—and every thought in my head evaporated.

Clara stood before me transformed.

She was now wearing a vibrant magenta dress that hugged her curves in a way her usual clothes never did.

The color made her skin glow, and the cut revealed just enough to be tantalizing without being inappropriate.

My phone nearly slipped from my suddenly numb fingers.

I caught it at the last moment, shoving it into my pocket without breaking eye contact with her.

My mouth went dry as I pushed myself away from the wall and approached her with measured steps.

Her eyes followed me, widening slightly as I drew closer.

I saw uncertainty there, a vulnerability that contrasted with her new confident stance. It made something in my chest tighten—a feeling I wasn't prepared to name.