Hours later. Back at the hotel
Olivia's POV
"Wow, Oliver, when did you start wearing designers? These clothes are a far cry from what I'm used to seeing you wear," Maxwell said as he went through my suitcase, looking for the perfect clothes for me for the dinner with Diane.
I gritted my teeth in anger as I watched him rifle through my belongings. "Sir, you don't have to help me with an outfit. I can pick an outfit myself."
"Oh, Hopton. We both know you have zero fashion sense. Have you looked at yourself after dressing up? I've never seen you in fitted clothes. They're always all loose and baggy."
"I'm not complaining, sir. I love my comfort."
"Not when you're here with me. You're not going to embarrass me with your poor fashion sense."
I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "I don't... I don't have poor fashion sense, Mr. Wellington." The words came out strained as I tried to curb my anger.
"Yes, you do."
