Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin!-Chapter 151: Perfect Suit

A nearby attendant — a thin man in a tailored black suit and white gloves — glanced over at them, smiling politely. Judging by his discreet nod, he — along with everyone else — had already assumed they were a couple.

Darren caught it too and smiled internally. Of course they would.

Penelope, meanwhile, had already darted toward a row of suits, her fingers skimming across the fine fabrics. "Come on then! Let's find you something handsome! You're gonna blow everyone away at your reunion!"

Darren sighed and rolled his shoulders back. "I thought I was already handsome," he said dryly.

"You are. But think about what you're going to be with the perfect suit."

Darren frowned. "Handsomer?"

Smiling, Penelope ignored him, plucking a dark navy jacket from the rack and holding it up against his chest. "Hmm... You look good in dark colors, but maybe too serious. You need something that says I'm important but also hotter than your boyfriend."

He arched a brow, amused . "Hey, I'm not going there to start any fights."

"Oh I think that's inevitable at this point. Now move it, Mister!" she ordered, shoving the jacket into his arms. "Go change!"

"When are you going to stop calling me Mister?"

She paused. "You don't like it when I do?"

Darren's brow raised. "I mean... I do. I just thought you'd call me by my name now we're closer."

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She shook her head. "No. Mister's fine. Now please get dressed."

Darren turned around slowly. "Alright, ma'am," and headed to the dressing room.

Inside was sleek and expansive, lined with mirrors and plush seats. Darren grumbled under his breath but obliged, disappearing behind a heavy curtain.

Moments later, he stepped out wearing the navy jacket and matching pants.

Penelope leaned back, hand on her chin, tapping it thoughtfully. Then she wrinkled her nose. "Mmm... No. You look like you're going to a funeral."

Darren stared at her, unimpressed. "Good. Maybe it'll scare them."

She giggled. "Next!"

This went on — suit after suit. Charcoal gray. Black pinstripe. Classic white tux.

Each time Darren emerged, adjusting a cufflink or smoothing a sleeve with casual arrogance, Penelope would inspect him like an artist critiquing her masterpiece.

Sometimes she'd circle him with narrowed eyes, sometimes she'd tilt her head dramatically, and once — laughing — she even made an exaggerated thumbs-down.

The workers watched them with indulgent smiles. One whispered to another, "Cute couple, huh?"

"I know right."

It became a reminisce of last month when Darren had taken Penny shopping and selected dresses for her. Now it was the other way around.

At a time, Darren came out shirtless while adjusting a vest he was trying to fit into.

Penelope turned and caught full sight of him. She almost yelped but covered her mouth as she stared at his upper body.

His sculpted abs, lean muscles, and the slight V that disappeared into his waistline. When her eyes continued to trace down to V to his bulge, she immediately squeaked like a cartoon mouse.

Darren looked up.

Her face went beet red, and she whirled around, nearly tripping over her own feet. "S-Sorry! Sorry sorry!" she yelped, clutching the nearest wall for support.

Darren smirked lazily, slipping the vest on properly. "Relax. It's not like you haven't seen a body before."

"Not that kind of body!" she hissed under her breath, still refusing to turn around.

Chuckling, Darren finally pulled on the matching blazer and called, "Alright. Now you can look."

Cautiously, Penelope peeked over her shoulder.

And froze.

Before her stood Darren Steele, dressed in a midnight black Italian-cut suit that hugged his broad shoulders perfectly, with a muted crimson pocket square tucked neatly at his breast.

His black dress shoes gleamed like obsidian, and his shirt — a pale silver — caught the light just enough to give him an ethereal sharpness.

He looked... devastating.

Penelope's heart flipped in her chest. She stared, wide-eyed, lips parting slightly as she stepped closer without even realizing it.

"You're..." she whispered.

She gulped.

"You're perfect."

Darren tilted his head, smiling smugly. "Perfect, huh? I'll take it."

Penelope nodded, still staring. "Like... seriously handsome. Like you stepped out of one of those billionaire CEO magazines."

He chuckled. "Good. That's the energy I need."

Satisfied, he turned and walked toward the cashier, Penelope skipping after him, her cheeks still pink.

The suit cost a fortune — nearly $20,000 — but Darren paid for it like it was pocket change.

Once they were back outside, the night air cool around them, Darren tossed the bag into the back of his Aston Martin One-77, its sleek black frame purring quietly under the street lamps.

Sliding into the driver's seat, he glanced at Penelope, who was buckling up, still grinning.

"Well, better get you home before Mr. Castle comes hunting for me," Darren said, starting the engine.

Penelope blinked, then tilted her head. "You know... I've never seen your house before."

Darren chuckled. "Oh? Well, maybe one of these days."

There was a beat of silence. Then she turned, eyes sparkling mischievously.

"How about today? Tonight?"

Darren almost missed the gear.

He snapped his head toward her. "Huh?"

She smiled, a little shy, but determined. "Yeah. I had a really good time today. I don't want it to end yet. I wanna... go home with you."

Darren stared at her, one hand still on the gearshift, stunned.

Her cheeks glowed with sincerity, no seduction in her voice, just innocent eagerness.

His heart gave a small, unfamiliar stutter.

This girl…