Bettie found it odd but opted not to dwell on it.

Together, they carried the bags into the villa, setting them down on the pristine living room floor. As Bettie surveyed the scene before her, a suggestion formed on her lips. “Let's just leave this here for now and sort it out later," she proposed.

"Alright."

"Shall we head back then?" Bettie started walking toward the door but was halted by his voice.

"Bettie."

"What's up?" Bettie stopped and turned to him, puzzled. “Lance, you... You're acting really strange tonight..."

A subtle smile played on Lance's lips as he closed the distance between them, his eyes peering over the frames of his glasses with an enigmatic gleam. “Remember what you promised me this morning?"

Bettie's mind raced, trying to recall the events of the morning. What had she promised him?

Bettie was taken aback for a moment before shooting him a glare.

"Lance, do you have some kind of weird fetish? Like, the kind where you enjoy exposing yourself in front of others?"

"No." Lance's expression turned stormy.

Bettie bit her lip and whispered, "If that's not it, why are you insisting on this?"

“Aren't you curious? Are you scared now?"

"Scared of what? I've seen it before," Bettie replied with a shrug.

Bettie then swiftly grabbed the hem of Lance's shirt, loosened his belt, and unzipped his pants to reveal black boxer briefs. His toned abs peeked through slightly.

They stood very close.

Lance's eyes settled on Bettie's smooth, attractive face, observing the soft fuzz before drifting toward her eyes. She looked down, her long, curly lashes fluttering softly.

Bettie appeared composed, her clear eyes and steady hands suggesting she was seemingly confronting something ordinary.

Her fingers, delicate and slender, contrasted sharply with the dark fabric of Lance's underwear.

She glanced at Lance, gave a quick pull, but nothing budged.