Adrian pointed at the row of clothes on the rack and instructed me, “Try them on for me, one by one.” I replied, “Sure thing.” Quite the playboy, aren’t you? When I changed into a red sheer uniform, his gaze became intense. I’m just a stand-in, trying on clothes so he can find traces of his ideal lover in me… He said he wanted someone both innocent and seductive. I can act that out – acting is what I do best! “Move in with me. I’ll transfer money to your account monthly,” Adrian said to me. Although I consider myself attractive with a great personality and no bad habits, I didn’t think I was worthy enough for a handsome CEO of a listed company to offer to pay for my company. One should always be self-aware. When good fortune falls into your lap, don’t rush – remember to ask why. “Are you sure you’ve got the right person? I’m Lily.” Adrian didn’t even look at me. “I’m not blind.” “Besides keeping you company, is there anything else I need to do?” “What else can you do?” Adrian continued to keep his head down, casually signing a few documents. I was left speechless. “One last question,” I swallowed hard, hesitating as I chose my words: “You’re offering me so much money per month. You don’t have any… special preferences, do you?” Adrian finally looked up, his narrow eyes peering at me through his gold-rimmed glasses. “Such as?” Thinking of some unhealthy scenarios I’d read in novels, I counted on my fingers as I gave examples: “Like… some light BDSM or something?” Adrian: “…No.” I let out a sigh of relief. “I’ll move in tonight!” I’m not usually one to take shortcuts. As a D-list actress, I once had dreams too. But dreams don’t put food on the table, pay off debts, or cover my mom’s expensive hospital bills. I need money. Although I occasionally feel conflicted about taking this shortcut, I remind myself that even a boyfriend might not be as handsome as my sugar daddy. I feel like I’m going to wake up laughing from this dream. What more could I ask for? That evening, I moved into Adrian’s villa in Westbrook. The villa was huge. I obediently followed the housekeeper, Mrs. Thompson, as she led me to the guest room with my luggage. Mrs. Thompson had a kind face and kept smiling at me. Just as she was about to speak, I interrupted her. “Were you going to say I’m the first girl the boss has brought home?” Mrs. Thompson was surprised. “How did you know?” Of course, it was my years of experience reading romance novels that told me. But it was actually true? Soon, I understood why Adrian had chosen me. On the night I was prepared to give myself to him, Adrian led me into a walk-in closet in the villa. He pointed at the rows of uniforms and dresses on the racks and instructed, “Try them on for me, one by one.” I said, “No problem.” Let alone changing clothes, I’d be willing to do a striptease on the spot if he asked. Thanks to my acting experience, I was familiar with uniforms and changed quickly. As long as he showed no reaction, I immediately moved on to the next outfit. When I changed into a red sheer uniform, Adrian told me to stop and call his name. Suddenly, it all made sense. I understood. Thanks to all those romance novels that had educated me so well. In an instant, I was certain that I was being used as a stand-in. He had me try on one outfit after another, looking for the one that would evoke the feeling she gave him. I swayed in the sheer outer layer of the uniform, as thin as a cicada’s wing, thinking to myself, his ideal lover likes to wear uniforms? That’s quite different. I just wonder which part of me resembles her – my voice? My figure? A similar face? And I wonder when his ideal lover will return. But even after calling his name until my voice went hoarse, Adrian remained motionless. I couldn’t help but suggest, “How about I act it out? I’m an actress, a professional.” Adrian thought for a moment before making his request: “I want someone who’s both innocent and seductive.” Well, if that’s what you like, you should have said so earlier. I quickly adjusted my voice and expression, then called his name: “Adrian.” Adrian: “Have you ever considered that there might be a reason why you’re not famous?” That felt like an arrow to my knee. His voice was hoarse: “Call me again.” I obediently called out: “Adrian.” Adrian picked me up in his arms and carried me to his bedroom. I’m 5’9″ and weigh about 100 pounds, but he walked steadily. His bedroom was spacious, and so was the bed. Before I could admire his king-sized bed or feel the soft memory foam mattress, Adrian started tugging at my uniform. I said, “The clothes look expensive. Take it easy, will you?” Adrian replied, “You should worry about yourself.” An hour later, I felt like I was worth less than the uniform. There were two used condoms in the trash can, and my legs were trembling. Adrian turned on the night light and leaned against the headboard. The warm yellow light traced the curves of his face, highlighting his perfect nose bridge and thin lips. There was a mole at the corner of his narrow eyes, giving him a distant look, completely different from the passionate man he had been in bed moments ago. Adrian reached for a box of cigarettes. “May I smoke?” the sugar daddy asked me. Of course, the sugar daddy could do whatever he wanted. I said, “Give me one too.” We smoked our post-coital cigarettes in silence. As I was about to get up to find the bathroom, Adrian rolled over and pressed himself on top of me again. I blushed and my heart raced as I asked him, “What’s wrong?” He whispered, “One more time.” “You can go anywhere in the house except the study,” Adrian said as he stood by the bed, fastening the last button of his suit, back to his usual executive look. I lay in bed, feeling a bit weak as I nodded and said, “Okay.” That fits – there must be secrets about his ideal lover in the study that he doesn’t want others to see. I’m not very curious and definitely won’t go there. Besides, today I just want to stay in bed. Suddenly remembering something, I asked timidly, “Can I sleep here?” Adrian looked puzzled. “Is the bed not comfortable?” I waved my hand. “No, it’s not that. Isn’t it usually the case that the kept woman can’t sleep in the sugar daddy’s bed? The sugar daddy’s bed is only for…” Adrian asked, “Only for what?” Only for the ideal lover. Of course, I didn’t say the words “ideal lover” out loud. In romance novels, the ideal lover is usually off-limits for the male lead. I changed the subject: “Only for you to sleep in.” Adrian looked down at me. “My bed is quite large.” Probably meaning one more person wouldn’t make much difference. He picked up his phone from the bedside table and reminded me before leaving: “Read fewer romance novels.” Me: … Adrian was a good sugar daddy. Apart from liking to mock me and wanting me to change into a uniform before sex, he had no other strange habits. We not only had harmonious interactions in bed but also communicated well outside of it. He would even glance at the soap operas I was watching and say, “This lead actress’s acting isn’t as good as yours.” Looking at the lead actress’s exaggerated expressions… Thanks, I guess. It’s a compliment, but not entirely. When we came across a particularly melodramatic plot, he couldn’t help but criticize: “No wonder the TV department’s net profit is so low this year.” Sometimes when he saw me playing Ring Fit Adventure at home, he would connect his console and play the two-player mode with me. In the end, I would be panting and exhausted like a dog, while he seemed to have barely broken a sweat. He looked at me and smirked: “You’re so out of shape. No wonder you pass out after three rounds.” I retorted: “You look so handsome when you smile.” Adrian was taken aback, the tips of his ears turning slightly red. My relationship with Adrian as sugar daddy and sugar baby was more like roommates sleeping in the same bed. Late at night, my roommate’s stomach growled, successfully waking me up. With bleary eyes, I asked, “Should we wake up Mrs. Thompson to make you something to eat?” Adrian said, “No need. Mrs. Thompson is resting. Let her sleep.” Although Adrian was rich, he didn’t have any of the bad temper often associated with wealthy people. Even when he was so hungry his stomach was rumbling, he didn’t want to wake up the sleeping housekeeper. This was quite different from the stereotypical CEO in novels. Hearing his response, I turned on the light, wide awake now, only to find Adrian’s forehead covered in cold sweat. I was startled: “What’s wrong?” Adrian revealed a pained expression: “Stomachache. I had some drinks earlier.” I knew Adrian had stomach problems. Although he was a second-generation rich kid who inherited the family business and hadn’t experienced the hardships of starting a business from scratch, he worked very hard. Often, I would wake up after a nap to find the light in his study still on. His assistant had mentioned to me a few times that Adrian had a weak stomach and asked me to remind him to eat. He had come back from a business dinner tonight, and I thought he had eaten, so I didn’t remind him. “I’ll go get you some medicine.” Following the principle of not letting my sugar daddy die of illness, I helped Adrian boil water and get his medicine. After watching him take it, I was no longer sleepy, so I went downstairs to make him some porridge. Having lived on my own for years, my cooking skills were quite good. Soon, the kitchen was filled with the fragrant aroma of porridge. I heard Adrian come downstairs and stand silently behind me. I said, “Wait a moment, it’s almost ready.” Adrian responded with a deep “Mm.” Then he stood behind me, motionless. Even with my back turned, I could feel his intense gaze. I thought to myself, stay calm, he must be thinking of his ideal lover. And I guessed that his ideal lover must have been a good cook. Considering how much he was paying me, I could cook for him a few more times, letting him reminisce a bit more. Just as I felt the gaze on my back intensifying, and I thought he was about to pounce on me. He simply walked to my side and pinched my cheek. After being kept by Adrian for over a month, apart from visiting my mom in the hospital and checking on my dad to make sure he hadn’t attempted suicide after his failed business venture, I entered a state of complete unemployment. I seriously asked my agent, Sam, about the dos and don’ts of getting along with a sugar daddy. And I more seriously recalled what the female leads in similar situations in novels usually did. The answer was, apart from falling in love and engaging in battles of wit with various women who appeared around the sugar daddy, they didn’t seem to do much else. At this moment, I also received Sam’s reply: “What’s there to pay attention to? Just make some money, be a heartless gold digger. Ask for gifts and pocket money, you know?” He also sent me a voice message: “Honey, men are temporary, but money will always be with you.” I thought about it and realized he had a point. However, given my relationship with Adrian, which was so peaceful that I felt embarrassed to ask him for more money. Finally, when I was so bored that I started taking walks in his big villa, Adrian, who was handling business in the living room, finally noticed me. He asked, “Do you need something?” I scratched my head: “Sort of, but not really.” Adrian said, “If you don’t have anything to do, come over here and pick a script to act in.” Huh? Pick a script? I can still act? Wait, I’ve never picked a script before. Usually, scripts pick me, and they’re quite picky about it too. I quickly moved to Adrian’s side and looked at several scripts on his tablet. They were all big IPs. I get to choose which one to act in? Is this the joy of taking shortcuts? The corners of my mouth were about to reach my temples. Adrian, as if guessing what I was thinking, coldly said from the side, “I don’t want to lose money, so just find a supporting role to play. Don’t even think about the lead role.” Oh, excuse me. But a supporting role is fine too! I’ve never been in such a big IP production before. In the end, considering Adrian’s opinion, I decided to audition for two scripts. Adrian nodded and sent a message to his assistant to give the directors a heads-up. I stared at his profile, with gratitude and confusion written all over my face. “I have a question, but I’m not sure if I should ask?” Adrian said, “You shouldn’t.” I pretended not to hear and continued to express my curiosity: “Given our relationship, shouldn’t you be keeping me confined at home right now, only allowing me to accompany you, not work, not socialize, to avoid attracting others? After all, I have nothing but my beauty.” Adrian was speechless again. His thin lips parted slightly as he looked at me for a long time. Finally, Adrian said, “If I’ve committed a crime, let the law punish me, rather than having to listen to you narrate a cheesy romance novel here.” In the end, I was confirmed for a supporting role in a big IP production. I would play the prince’s loyal and secretly-in-love maid who ultimately dies for him. A likable character who is loyal, beautiful, brave, and not catty. On the day of the costume fitting photoshoot, even Sam seemed to be holding his head a little higher. There, I ran into Sam, an actress I had conflicts with in previous productions. She was also playing one of the prince’s maids, but with fewer scenes and a less likable character. Sam sneered at me and Sam, taunting, “Well, well, when one person rises to power, even their pets benefit. Found yourself a sugar daddy, didn’t you?” I touched my face and asked Sam, “Is it that obvious?” Sam’s face immediately turned ashen, too angry to speak. Sam, on the other hand, laughed like a cackling hen while holding his Birkin bag. I said, “Bro, tone it down a bit. You’re being too flamboyant.” He gave me a side-eye and quipped with a limp wrist, “My darling, one of my bags is worth more than her entire paycheck for this show. What’s she got to brag about?” Another episode in the “My Agent is Richer Than Me” series. I said, “Is there a possibility that my paycheck might be less than hers?” Sam patted me reassuringly: “But you have Mr. Adrian, don’t you?” I sighed, looking up at the late autumn sky. Indeed, now all I have is Mr. Adrian. Filming required traveling, and although it was just in the suburbs of the city, it wasn’t convenient to return to Westbrook every day as it was too far. This meant I would be living apart from Adrian for a while. The day before I joined the crew, Adrian was unusually enthusiastic. During a break, I asked, “Do you work out regularly?” Adrian: “Yes, every morning when you’re sleeping.” I felt dizzy, finally understanding what it meant when they say that people who are better than you are also working harder than you. Adrian ignored my half-dead expression and continued what he was doing earlier. I almost forgot whether I fell asleep or passed out in the end. The next day on set, I discovered that Adrian had hired a personal assistant for me, and my usually neglectful company had also sent PR staff to eagerly help me take photos. Sam asked, “How does it feel to take shortcuts? Awesome, right?” I smiled weakly, “It’s great, just exhausting.” Sam screamed, “Don’t brag to me!” Heaven knows, I was genuinely tired. At the same time, Adrian hadn’t contacted me for two days. Although I felt a bit lost, I thought to myself, this is normal. I had to constantly remind myself that I was just a stand-in, not his ideal lover. He didn’t need to talk to me every day. Until the third day, when he actively sent me a “?” message. Then he asked: In those romance novels you read, can you go this long without talking to me?
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295134”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster
Leave a Reply