"No, I can't wear so many clothes! Why don't I just pick two?" Ivy Mae said, torn between excitement and hesitation.
"How can that be? You said it was a package, so it has to be everything."
Aiden James' voice carried quiet authority now. The once scruffy college guy suddenly sounded composed and decisive. That commanding tone made Ivy's heart flutter.
That confidence… that dominance… it gave him the air of a powerful CEO straight out of a romance novel, the kind of man who could change your life with a single word.
> Ivy Mae: +5
> Ivy Mae: +5
> Ivy Mae: +5
"But… it's too much! My apartment near campus can't even fit all these clothes," Ivy said, half-laughing, half-nervous.
Aiden smiled. "If space is the problem, I'll just buy you a house."
Her eyes went wide. "What...?"
Was he serious? Who casually talked about buying a house?
Even in New York, that wasn't something you joked about.
Housing prices in the city were insane, $1,500 to $2,000 per square foot in Manhattan. Even small condos in Brooklyn or Queens cost hundreds of thousands, and in Manhattan, a decent 2-bedroom apartment easily topped $2 million.
She'd met plenty of rich guys before, some real, some pretending but no one had ever thrown around that kind of money so casually.
And strangely, instead of feeling touched, Ivy felt a little scared.
> Ivy Mae: -5
Her favorability, which had just reached 63, dropped to 58.
Aiden blinked. What the...?
Then it hit him. She wasn't ungrateful. She was overwhelmed.
Sometimes being too generous too fast made people uneasy, especially when they weren't that close yet.
He sighed inwardly. Guess even spending money has a learning curve.
"Well… forget it," Ivy said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You've already bought me too much today. Honestly, I only came along to tease you, maybe make you look bad for what happened at the campus store earlier. I was in a bad mood. I didn't mean to pick on you."
"I get it," Aiden said with an easy smile. "Everyone has off days."
Her eyes softened. "But… I'm really happy right now. And you don't have to buy me so many things. Just a few are enough."
"Alright," he said, nodding. Then he turned to the clerk. "Do you have membership cards?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Great. Open one for me. I'll load it with fifty thousand dollars. Whenever this lady shops here, show her the newest arrivals and put it on my tab."
"Of course, sir!" the saleswoman replied, almost trembling with excitement.
A moment ago, she thought the transaction was over. Now, she realized she'd just met a real high roller.
The other salesgirls couldn't help whispering in awe.
"He looks so good when he swipes his card. Even with messy hair and casual clothes, he's got that effortless aura."
"Yeah, if he just cleaned up a little, he'd look like a model or an actor."
"And he doesn't have that flashy attitude most rich guys do. He's calm, confident. Like someone who grew up around money."
"Ugh, why can't I meet a guy like that?"
Girls passing by shot envious glances at Ivy, who stood there blushing, half-embarrassed, half-thrilled.
Aiden overheard the whispers and almost laughed.
Me? Old-money vibes? Aristocratic aura?
You ladies are really overhyping me.
He handed Ivy the card with a casual grin. "You're still missing something though… maybe a watch. There's a Patek Philippe boutique downstairs. What do you think?"
Her face flushed. "No! Really, no, you've already done too much. I don't even know how to thank you!"
Aiden leaned closer, his tone teasing. "Then how about… you give yourself to me?"
Ivy froze, cheeks burning bright red.
"You're such a bad guy!" she said, giving him a playful punch on the arm.
> Ivy Mae: +5
> Ivy Mae: +5
Aiden blinked. Wait… that actually worked?
He chuckled to himself. So flirting works better than money, huh?
Interesting… very interesting.
Aiden James was honestly stunned.
So this was what people meant when they said nice guys finish last.
For Ivy Mae, it wasn't about a man liking her too much, she just didn't want to feel nothing from him. Accepting gifts worth hundreds of thousands of dollars without giving anything back would make anyone uneasy.
That one teasing line "Then give yourself to me" had actually eased her nerves. It turned the tension into playful flirtation.
Of course, Ivy wasn't about to hand herself over that easily. She'd mastered the fine art of playing hard to get.
Aiden, on the other hand, hadn't thought that far. He'd just tossed out the line casually, not realizing how it might actually affect her.
For him, the idea of getting a girl into bed in a few days, especially someone like Ivy, felt ridiculous.
What he didn't realize was that a woman like her could be a lot more proactive when she found a man who looked truly, dangerously rich.
"Come on, Aiden," Ivy said as they walked down Fifth Avenue. "You've been buying me all this stuff why don't you get something for yourself?"
He smiled faintly and shrugged. "No money."
She blinked. "You're joking, right?"
He wasn't. He really couldn't spend a cent of his system money on himself. Every dollar had to go toward women that was the rule.
Ivy laughed, shaking her head. "You're such a terrible liar."
They stopped at a men's boutique next door. To Aiden's surprise, Ivy insisted on buying him a couple of shirts and a pair of sneakers and then dragged him into a barber shop on the same block.
By the time she was done, she'd spent around three thousand dollars.
And for the first time that day, Aiden didn't feel like he was performing.
He was touched.
He couldn't remember the last time a woman had bought him anything, even something small.
Sure, he'd just spent over a hundred grand on Ivy, but that wasn't his money. It was system cash, digital gold he didn't even feel leaving his account.
But the three thousand Ivy spent? That was, real,.
And that made it mean something.
As they walked back out into the cool Manhattan air, Aiden's mind wandered, uninvited, back to her.
Emily Rose.
His first love. His first heartbreak.
He remembered how they met during freshman orientation at Columbia, both exhausted, sweaty from drills, laughing over bad cafeteria coffee. She wasn't cold back then.
She'd been warm. Kind.
She'd even texted him first sometimes, replied fast, joked around.
Then one week, when he came down with the flu, Emily had shown up outside his dorm with a bottle of medicine and a worried look on her face.
That small gesture had melted him completely.
It felt like love.
From that moment on, he was all in, messages every morning, gifts, dinners, endless effort.
But Emily never said yes. Never said no either.
Whenever he started to pull away, she'd reel him back in with a few kind words, a late-night text, a gentle "I miss talking to you."
Enough to keep him chasing.
There was no progress bar when it came to love, no way to tell how close you were to winning someone's heart.
So he just kept giving. And giving. And giving.
Until he couldn't stop anymore.
Three years later, he wasn't in love with Emily anymore.
He was in love with the version of himself that had loved her.
He'd turned into a loyal dog, sitting outside her door, waiting for scraps of affection.
And now, standing here on Fifth Avenue, fresh haircut, new clothes, and a woman on his arm…
He wondered if maybe it was time to stop being that dog and start acting like the man he was becoming.