Chapter 352: The Wayne Manor Party (1)
A Date for a Favor
When they left the martial arts school, it was still early, so the two decided to stroll in a nearby park.
"Luke Shaw, can you do me a favor?"
"What favor?"
"Design a kinetic armor suit for me."
"Impossible. Don't even think about it."
"Please help me? We're friends, after all."
Barbara lunged at him, begging while wrapping her arms around Luke's arm and rubbing it back and forth, which made him speechless.
"Stop dreaming. I don't want your father pointing a gun at my head someday."
"I won't tell anyone. I promise you."
"A promise is useless."
"I'll pay for it, okay?"
"I don't need money."
The girl got angry, pushing Luke aside. "You're a terrible friend."
Luke shook his head helplessly. "You turn on people faster than you turn a page."
"All women are like that. You should know."
Luke: "..."
Barbara also felt her words were a bit harsh. "Sorry, I was just... a little desperate."
Just then, Luke's phone rang. He stepped aside to take the call. A moment later, he returned.
"Miss Gordon, I need your help with something."
The girl pointed to herself. "Me?"
"Yes."
Luke shrugged. "Bruce Wayne—you know, the Wayne family heir who's always in the entertainment magazines with supermodels—is hosting a party tonight at his manor. He specifically invited me to attend, and as a special guest, I need a date."
Barbara's eyes widened. "You want me to be your date for a fancy banquet?"
Her exaggerated voice echoed, causing passersby to look over. The girl frantically waved her hands.
"No, no, absolutely not."
Luke countered, "Why not? You're beautiful, and your figure is great. What's wrong with that?"
"It's not that. I... I've never been to that kind of banquet," Barbara looked embarrassed. "And my identity. I don't want people to misunderstand my relationship with you."
Her father was an old-fashioned man. If he saw her in the newspaper attending a party with Metropolis's famous playboy, he would surely go ballistic.
Luke smiled. "Just wear a mask."
"What kind of mask? Like the one you had on your face?"
"A regular mask is fine. Trust me, as long as you don't speak up, no one will dare question your identity."
"Why?"
"Because I'll be next to you."
When Luke said this, he was calm, but his calmness contained immense confidence. Barbara was tempted. She had never attended a high-society gathering and was always curious about the luxury of such events. However, the thought of Luke's reputation made her hesitate.
Her father had strictly warned her against any form of association with Luke Shaw, calling him a very dangerous guy with blood on his hands.
Luke didn't push her. Instead, he smiled.
"Take your time thinking about it. If you can't do it, I'll have to call an agency."
"Why would you call an agency?"
Luke sighed. "I'm a billionaire, after all. How can I attend a party like that without a date? If you refuse and I don't have another girl around, I'll just have to let an agency arrange a second- or third-tier actress to fill the spot. That's perfectly normal, isn't it?"
Barbara: "..."
"Well? Have you made up your mind? If not, I'm calling."
The girl snorted and mumbled, "I might want to go, but I don't have anything to wear."
"That's easy. Follow me."
The Transformation
Luke took Barbara to the best high-end clothing boutique in Gotham. Ignoring the clothes on display, he walked straight up to the store manager.
"In one hour, I want to see a dazzling princess ready for a banquet."
He placed a black card on the counter. The manager, a seasoned professional, saw the gold markings on the card and immediately put on his most sincere smile. He bowed slightly and invited Barbara,
"Esteemed guest, please follow me."
Barbara looked bewildered. Luke smiled and nodded.
"Go on. I'll wait outside."
The girl, whose mind was still spinning, was led to the back by the manager. When she saw the array of luxurious gowns of every color, her eyes went wide. These dresses were too beautiful—the styles, patterns, and designs were all so unique.
The manager smiled and explained,
"These dresses are all hand-made by top designers. They are the most current, fashionable, and flattering designs for the female form. What style do you prefer, ma'am?"
Barbara looked around the room and whispered, "Are they very expensive?"
"For your friend, they are nothing."
The manager was a smart operator. He didn't disclose the prices, as that would put mental pressure on the customer and potentially scare off the sale.
It was clear that the girl was either a lover or a girlfriend of the man—the latter possibility seemed higher. The manager had special techniques for handling such clients.
"This orange-red gown is the latest piece from top French fashion designer Kent Burdo. It is named 'Sunset Beauty.' Its color is similar to your hair and will create a stunning effect when worn."
Barbara hadn't heard of the designer, but judging by the manager's expression, he sounded important. Hearing the suggestion, she subconsciously examined the dress.
"Isn't it... too revealing?"
"Please try it on first. If you feel uncomfortable, we can select another."
"You allow try-ons here?"
"Normally, no. But your friend has a very distinguished status, and we are willing to make an exception."
Barbara asked suspiciously, "How do you know he's distinguished? Do you know him?"
The manager chuckled.
"The bank card your friend used is the Centurion Supreme Black Card, issued by Chase Bank exclusively for their top clients. It has no spending limit, and there are fewer than one hundred in the world. The cardholder receives the highest level of service from Chase Bank."
Barbara was immediately enlightened, but then she felt embarrassed. She hadn't known any of this.
Just then, three female attendants walked in. The manager introduced them.
"Lina, the makeup artist; Sally, the hairdresser; and Maggie, the beautician. Whatever your requests are, please let us know. We are here to serve you completely."
Barbara opened her mouth, and after a long pause, she finally managed to whisper,
"Let's just change the clothes first."
Over the next hour, Barbara finally understood what it meant to live a rich person's life. Four women circled her—one styling her hair, one touching up her face, and one trimming her nails and lashes. She felt like Cinderella stepping into the castle for the first time. The entire process left her dazed until the manager declared, "Perfect."
The girl dressed for the street was gone. In her place stood a princess in an orange-red, low-cut evening gown, her beauty exquisitely refined.
Looking at the girl in the mirror, Barbara was speechless for a long time.
Is that really me?
No way.
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