Page 46 of Love so Hot

Larry's lips twitch into a smirk. "Ah, I see. Well, I can assure you, we haven't been robbed."

I narrow my eyes, suddenly suspicious. "What do you mean, 'we haven't been robbed'? Did you hire a magician to make my wardrobe disappear?"

He chuckles, the sound both infuriating and oddly pleasant. "Not quite. I simply... removed those clothes."

My jaw drops. "You what?" I sputter, torn between disbelief and indignation. "You can't just... Who do you think you are, the fashion police?"

"Think of it as a wardrobe upgrade," Larry says smoothly, his hazel eyes twinkling with mischief. "Trust me, you'll thank me later."

I cross my arms, feeling exposed in my pajamas. "I highly doubt that, Larry. Those clothes were ethically sourced and locally made. They're a statement!"

"Oh, they made a statement alright," he mutters under his breath.

I'm about to launch into a tirade about sustainable fashion when a thought hits me. "Wait a minute. If you got rid of my clothes, what am I supposed to wear to our meeting?"

Lawrence's smile widens. "Don't worry, I have that covered. Now, shall we take a little drive?"

As I stare at him, a mix of curiosity and annoyance bubbling inside me, I can't help but wonder what exactly I've gotten myself into. One thing's for sure – this fake engagement is turning out to be way more complicated than I bargained for.

"You do realize I'm wearing pajamas, right? How am I supposed to go out into public without any clothes?"

He grins, and I know I set myself up for what he's about to say. "I wouldn't mind if you ditched them."

I decide to call his bluff. "Okay." I pretend to remove my shirt. "I'm sure the media will have a field day when they find out you're engaged to a nudist."

Larry sighs and puts up his hands. "Okay, okay. As much as it pains me to say this, and for the record, this is the first time I've ever said this to a woman, please keep your clothes on."

I give him a shit-eating grin.

"And, yes, you can wear," he waves a hand in my general direction, "this, to where we are going."

I reluctantly follow Larry to his eco-unfriendly car, my bare feet padding across the driveway. As I slide into the passenger seat, the leather interior practically screams 'overcompensation.'

"You know," I say, buckling up, "this car probably has the carbon footprint of a small country."

Larry just smirks, revving the engine. "Probably. But it gets us where we need to go in style."

As we pull out of the driveway, I turn to him, my curiosity getting the better of me. "So, are you going to tell me where we're going? Or why you decided to play dress-up dictator with my wardrobe?"

"Patience, Willow," he says, his eyes fixed on the road. "All will be revealed soon enough."

I roll my eyes. "Has anyone ever told you that you'd make a terrible tour guide? 'Soon enough' isn't exactly a helpful answer."

He chuckles, a sound that sends an unexpected shiver down my spine. "I prefer to think of myself as a man of mystery."

"More like a man of annoyance," I mutter, watching the scenery of Greenwood Hollow blur past us.

As we drive into town, I notice we're heading towards a small, nondescript building I remember being empty for years. What could Larry possibly want to show me here?

He parks the car, and before I can ask any more questions, he's out and opening my door. "After you, my dear fiancée," he says with a theatrical bow.

I step out, my bare feet touching the cool pavement. "This better not be some weird public humiliation stunt."

Larry just winks and guides me towards the building's entrance. As he pushes open the door, I'm hit with a wave of anticipation and dread. What on earth has he done now?

The moment I step inside, my jaw drops. The once-empty space has been completely transformed. Racks of dresses line the walls, and professional lighting equipment is set up throughout the room. In the center stands a backdrop, creating a makeshift photo studio.

I blink, trying to process what I'm seeing. "Larry," I say slowly, "what exactly is all this?"

---