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“They were indeed,” you say, making such an opinion up.
“So, shall we adjourn to my room?”
Sofia talks like a rich person. You like that. She seems like she’s got a lot of confidence and authority. Too bad she won’t stay rich.
“Your room? This is my house.”
She looks at you like you have three heads. “It’s...my house, darling...I don’t know what you are trying to...say, exactly...”
“Don’t worry...”
/All of Sofia’s wealth is mine/
Your girlfriend blinks a few times in quick succession before regaining composure.
“Of course it’s your house. You don’t have to say that out loud...can we go to your room now?” She asks, now noticeably less serene and more impatient, so impatient that she starts to unzip her dress. She still has that dress on, though now she remembers it as a gift from you rather than her own purchase. She’s sure lucky she’s dating a rich guy like you.