His Wicked Obsession (Archer and Virginia) novel Chapter 290

As soon as Cindy walked in, a stylist whisked her away to change and get ready, leaving Archer and Virginia to wait in the lounge area.

It wasn't long before the little girl came running back out, holding up the edges of her dress with the help of the staff.

"Mommy, Mr. Vanderbilt, do I look pretty?" Cindy spun in a circle, beaming up at them.

"Beautiful. You're our gorgeous little princess."

The usually cold, untouchable man now had a soft light in his eyes. He reached out and gently pinched the little girl's soft, chubby cheeks.

For some reason, the more he looked at Cindy, the deeper the sense of affection and familiarity he felt toward her.

The photographer standing nearby watched them, his eyes lighting up with inspiration.

The man was striking and aristocratic, the woman was elegantly beautiful, and the little girl was practically a living doll.

They were the ultimate walking billboard!

"Mr. Vanderbilt, Ms. Caldwell," the photographer boldly suggested. "You two are stunning. Would you be open to taking a family portrait with her? Our studio is actually putting together a new promotional campaign..."

Archer frowned, ready to reject the idea immediately.

He hated taking photos, especially highly-edited studio portraits. But then, an image flashed through his mind.

It was the photo of Valentin Hunter, Virginia, and Cindy smiling together outside that coffee shop.

"We'll take one."

Virginia turned to him in confusion, whispering, "I thought you hated taking pictures?"

Had she remembered that wrong?

"I don't hate it." Without offering any further explanation, he simply stood up and adjusted the hem of his suit jacket.

The photoshoot went smoother than anyone expected.

Archer maintained his powerful, commanding presence, but the moment his gaze shifted to Virginia and Cindy, that innate, freezing distance instantly melted away, replaced by an undeniable, profound tenderness.

...

Meanwhile, just past 10 PM.

At the South Hill estate.

Virginia sat cross-legged on the living room sofa, wearing a warm yellow silk nightgown.

A glass of fruit tea sat on the side table next to her, and an English psychology journal was resting on her lap.

The sound of the electronic lock disengaging echoed from the entryway, and Archer pushed the door open.

He had a dark gray bespoke suit jacket draped over his arm. As he stepped inside, he pulled at his tie with one hand, a faint trace of exhaustion from the evening's business socializing lingering on his face.

He changed his shoes, handed his jacket to the housekeeper, and made his way straight toward the sofa.

"You're still awake?" He sat down next to her, instinctively reaching out to wrap an arm around her waist.

But the second he leaned in, an unfamiliar, suffocatingly sweet rose perfume, deeply laced with alcohol, flooded Virginia's senses.

Virginia frowned, shifting her body to the side and completely avoiding his touch.