Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
Rowan
After a far-too-filling breakfast of cannoli, cornetto, and a delicious spread of breads topped with several varieties of jam, we meet a driver at the front of the hotel, who takes us through the city to an area so busy, we have to park and step out of the vehicle and travel on foot to actually go anywhere.
We pass through a line of shops, some of which I recognize as chains from the states, and others I have never seen before – each displaying accessories from handbags to jewelry or beautiful pieces of clothing.
We come to a stop in front of a store with some of the most decadent dresses - no, not dresses, gowns - I’ve ever seen displayed in its window. Truly magnificent pieces, fit for a princess. Things a little girl dreams of wearing when she grows up.
“Do you like them?” Colt asks, noticing my staring.
“They’re gorgeous,” I answer.
“Good.”
He takes my hand and pulls me inside, and I almost immediately feel out of place.
Mannequins are draped with silks, cashmere, and a selection of different furs.
My hands run along the fabrics, soaking up every touch of the delicate textures as we walk through the store, heading for a small area toward the back with two chairs that face a small, round table made of carved marble.
I let Colt lead me to one of the seats and drop myself into it while he disappears, I assume to speak to someone.
Not long after, he approaches with a young man in tow, a rolling garment rack in the young man’s hand. He asks me a few questions, most of which require Colt to play the role of translator, then vanishes. He’s so quick on his feet, I would have missed him if I blinked.
The young man returns a handful of minutes later, the previously empty rack now filled to the brim with those same gowns that I had been admiring as we walked through the shop.
He sets a glass of wine in front of Colt, and another glass – which I assume is sparkling water – in front of me.
“Grazie,” Colt tells the man with a nod. He then turns to me and inclines his head toward the velvet curtains in front of us. “Well? Try them on.”
“O-okay.”
I stand and reach for the rack, shuffling through the dresses on it, my head swimming.
I start with an absolutely stunning black dress.
I take it with me behind that velvet curtain, which suddenly doesn’t feel like it offers nearly enough privacy, despite reaching from the floor to the high ceiling.
I follow with a cream-colored dress, then a blue one, and another cream one, stepping out in each to give Colt my best princess twirl and show him the entire look.
I hear my father’s voice in the back of my mind, telling me I look like a cheap whore; but the voice gets quickly snuffed out by Colt. The smile on his face as he watches me play in the dresses is completely intoxicating.
I didn’t expect our travels to include a game of fashion show dress-up, but I’m really having a lot of fun doing this with him; another taste of my microdose of royalty.
Finally, I reach for a cherry red floor length dress and take it behind the curtain to slip it over my body.
It’s a simple design – thin straps at the top and a neckline that creates a swooping illusion as it falls.
The fabric hugs my body, accentuating every single one of my curves in just the right places, and it ends in a small pool of fabric at my feet.
I smooth the fabric over my skin one last time before stepping out from behind the curtain. I catch a glimpse of myself in the massive mirror next to me and skip the princess twirl, instead stepping closer to the mirror.
“Oh, wow,” I breathe.
I run my hands over the delicate material of the dress, bringing them down my sides and back up again, then I give a half turn to see how it looks in the back.
I feel...beautiful.
In the reflection, I can see Colt grinning at me. The amusement playing on his face before has become a proud softness, and he leans forward to brace his elbow on his knee as he takes a sip from his glass.
“You’re breathtaking,” he tells me. “That dress was made for you.”
He sets his glass on the table, stands, and steps behind me, then places his hands on my sides and makes eye contact with me in the mirror.
“It’s gorgeous, but I’m not getting it,” I tell him.
“And why not?”
“It’s got to be thousands of dollars.”
“I would hope so,” he laughs.
“Colt.” I turn to face him. “It’s too much. I don’t—I’m not interested in your money.”
“I know you aren’t,” he assures me, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Which is why I’m happy to spend it on you.”
He calls the young man back over to us and points toward me, then to several dresses on the rack. I have no idea what he’s saying, but it sounds to my untrained ear like he’s speaking fluent Italian, and their conversation seems to flow as if he’s a local.
I wonder how often he comes here.
The nice young man slips all of the dresses off of the rack and drapes them over his arm, taking them with him as he walks away.
I step behind the curtain to change back into my own clothes, then follow Colt to the register, guilt and a feeling of unworthiness washing over me each step we take closer.
Colt takes the red dress from my arms and hands it to the same man who has been helping us all day and I watch as he scans all of the dresses that he’d brought out.
My heart hammers against my ribcage as I watch the number on the register climb.
It’s nearly seventy thousand dollars by the time they’re rung up; I want to be sick.
“Colt, you—”
His hand comes up to cover my mouth, effectively silencing me. “You deserve nice things, Rowan,” he tells me, his honey eyes locked on mine with a deadly seriousness. “Let me get nice things for you.”
I bite my tongue as he swipes his credit card through the reader, even as my skin burns with guilt over him spending almost three years of my wages in a single transaction, all of it just for me to have some pretty dresses I don’t even have occasions for which to wear.
We stop at a small café for a late lunch and a rest before making our way back to the car so we can be dropped back at the hotel.
I plop down backward onto the bed, landing with my arms splayed out, and Colt steps in front of me, pulling his sweater over his head.
“Are you up for an outing tonight?” He asks.
“What kind?”
“The kind where beautiful women have an excuse to wear their pretty new dresses,” he smirks, waggling his brows at me.
I prop myself up on my elbows and arch a brow at him. “You planned something.”
Stepping closer until he’s standing between my legs, he purrs, “I’m always planning something.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Now get some rest. If you’re up for it, we’ll have dinner at seven and be on our way.”
“If I’m not?”
Without hesitation, he answers with a shrug, “Then we’ll order room service and watch movies.”
“I’ll be up for it,” I smile.
I don’t know if he knew that was a little bit of a test or not, but he passed it with flying colors regardless. I may not be able to rely on my own body, but I can rely on him, and that is worth cherishing.
I slide off of the bed, shimmy out of my jeans and reach into my suitcase for a pair of my compression stockings. As I slide them up my legs, I see Colt in the corner of my eye, pinching his lips together and putting his fingers over his mouth.
“What?” I laugh.
“Those are—”
“To help me not pass out,” I tell him. He nods, stifling a laugh at a joke I’m clearly not a part of. “What?”
“Nothing,” he says. “They just don’t look very medical.”
“Well yeah, the other ones look like socks for old men…you know, like you would wear them,” I tease.
He strides closer to me and I think he might pounce, but he grabs the band of one of my stockings and yanks it higher up my thigh, then reaches behind me to smack my ass, making me jump.
“Sleep, smartass.”
When he leaves the room, I do as I’m told and settle in under the covers to nap for a few hours.
It’s a battle to find sleep – between the high of being here with him, the way he so effortlessly spoiled me today, and the thought of the night to come – but eventually, I shut my eyes and let it claim me.