Rising from the Ashes (Andrew and Lauren) novel Chapter 1138

Just the word 'strip' was enough to make Chantelle's face instantly flush a deep red. She never imagined that one day, she would be forced to strip in front of a man, especially one she had always looked down on and dismissed without a second thought.

She noticed Andrew adjusting a phone on a stand nearby, and a sudden wave of dread washed over her.

"What are you doing? Don't tell me you're planning to record this," she said, her voice sharp with suspicion.

Andrew nodded with satisfaction, checking the perfect angle on his phone. "Of course. A beautiful moment like this deserves to be captured. This way, I can replay it whenever I feel nostalgic."

Chantelle's eyes flared with anger and embarrassment. "You're lucky I'm even letting you look. Recording it? Forget it."

Andrew shrugged casually. "I knew you'd say that. That's why the setup's just for show. Now… your performance, if you would."

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, expression smug.

Chantelle's fingers trembled slightly as she removed her blazer, revealing a crisp white blouse underneath. Her outfit was typical of a high-level government official—minimalist and clean.

Nonetheless, even through the buttoned shirt, her tall, toned figure could not be hidden.

One glance and Andrew had already judged—her waist could rival that of that seductress, Lauren.

Still watching her hesitation, he clicked his tongue. "Can you speed it up? My time's valuable."

Without a word, Chantelle gritted her teeth and began unbuttoning her shirt.

"Huh?" Andrew blinked in surprise. She had barely undone half of it when her chest suddenly seemed to spring forward with a surprising bounce.

It was like watching a tightly bound pillow burst into bloom, unexpected and unmissable.

"I'm wearing a custom-made tactical vest. It compresses the chest," she said indifferently.

Chantelle replied, each word sharp as a knife. "I do what I want.

There was no way she would expose her chest first—not yet. That would mean total vulnerability. At this point, the only tactic left was to stall for as long as she could. She was already deeply regretting the bet that got her here.

Finally, she slipped off her trousers, folded them neatly, and placed them on the desk. Her long, porcelain legs stood tall before Andrew.

Andrew gave them a casual glance, then shook his head.

Chantelle narrowed her eyes. "What's with the head shake? They don't meet your standards?"

Andrew replied, "They're good legs, no doubt. But they're a little too lean. Add a bit of curve, and they'd be perfect to touch and admire."

Chantelle snorted. "Seriously? You're complaining about legs like this? Then tell me—whose legs do measure up?"