Reject My Alpha President (Iris and Arthur) novel Chapter 162

Chapter 162

I sink into a chair, realizing she’s right. But this is what I wanted, isn’t it? To be by Arthur’s side in public, to pronounce our love

to the world.

What follows is the most intense beauty regimen I’ve ever experienced. My hair is washed, dried, styled, and then restyled when

the stylist decides the first attempt is “too provincial.”

My–face is analyzed relentlessly, with discussions about bone structure and undertones that make me feel like a science

experiment. My eyebrows are shaped, my nails buffed and painted a neutral shade of pink

The dress selection process is equally exhausting. Each option is analyzed for political implications. A red dress is “too aggressive for a first appearance.” Blue is “too reminiscent of the opposition party’s colors.” Green is “sending mixed environmental messages considering the Alpha President’s recent legislation.”

I never realized clothing could be so politically charged.

After hours of this, I’m starting to question everything. If a simple gala appearance requires this much preparation, what would.

this much

daily life be like as Arthur’s mate? Would every outfit be scrutinized, every appearance planned to the minute? Could I live like

that? Could Miles?

By sunset–yes, it takes that long, so long that we all have to sto

stop multiple times for meals and bathroom breaks–the transformation is complete. I stand in front of the full–length mirror they’ve somehow materialized in my living room, barely

recognizing myself.

My hair is elegantly styled in loose waves, pinned back on one side with a subtle diamond clip. My makeup is flawless but not overdone, enhancing my features while still looking natural. The dress they’ve finally settled on is a deep emerald silk that flows like water when I move, cut to flatter my figure without being too revealing.

“Well?” the stylist asks, watching my reaction carefully.

1 turn, admiring how the dress catches the light. “It’s… beautiful,” I admit. And it is. Despite all my irritation with the process, I can’t deny the results are stunning. I’ve never looked like this before–polished, elegant, like I belong in the world of galas and

diplomats.

“The green is perfect with your coloring,” the stylist says, clearly pleased with her work. “Sophisticated but with a creative edge. The silhouette works well for press photos, and the color photographs beautifully under flash.”

Of course. Everything is perfectly calculated for maximum media impact.

Just then, a knock at the door interrupts us. Emi opens it, revealing Arthur standing in the hallway. He’s wearing a perfectly tailored black tuxedo that makes him look even more handsome than usual, if that’s possible.

He stops short when he sees me, his eyes widening slightly.

“Iris,” he breathes, taking a step into the apartment. “You look… incredible.”

Despite myself, I blush. “Thank you. Apparently, there’s a lot that goes into being presentable for the public eye.” I think I’m

Everyone, even Emi and Ezra, discreetly steps out, leaving us alone in the living room.

Arthur steps closer, taking my hand gently, “Not always. Just for big events, important appearances. The rest of the time, you can be yourself.”