Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Rayna
Ineed panties.
I was so focused on ignoring Apollo’s instruction to order clothes, and putting off the task onto Armani that I forgot the true dilemma involved.
I have two pairs of underwear, both of which have been worn.
Could I do a load of laundry just to wash two tiny bits of fabric?
Sure. But that sounds like not only a waste of water, but like an entirely unsustainable routine.
While it seems like Armani did a great job of picking out an assorted wardrobe for me, casual, comfy, and more classy clothes alike…
I have to have more than one bra, and two pairs of underwear to exist like a normal human being.
Meaning my plans to spend the day reconnecting with my baking side have officially gone out the window.
As it is, it took me two hours to sort through the mountains of clothes that were delivered to me.
And I refuse to order app-to-door delivery for my delicate bits. Not only would I be mortified to have another person—a stranger—handling my underwear, I need to be able to feel the fabric I’m going to wear on the most sensitive parts of my body before I buy it.
Throwing my hair up into a long ponytail, I place a dark pair of sunglasses over my eyes and sigh at my reflection.
I don’t particularly want to be recognized in public if there are any Casa Nostra spies lurking around, let alone in a lingerie store.
Sporting a baby pink sweater, and a basic pair of black leggings, I feel incredibly vulnerable going commando.
The size of my sweater does a good enough job of hiding my lack of bra, so before I can second guess myself, I step into the new pair of white trainers Armani picked out and grab my keys.
After locking up, I take the elevator to the garage level and grimace when I see several rows of cars.
“Nice going, Rayna,” I mutter to myself. “You never asked for a description of the car.” The key fob is free from any company logo too. It looks like a custom black rectangle, the only color being silver coming from the standard three buttons.
Like hell if I’m going to call and ask.
Double clicking the lock icon, I almost jump out of my skin when the dark car closest to the elevator honks loudly in response.
“Oh fucking hell,” I breathe out, taking it in.
The sleek black four-door has tinted windows and a fucking Mercedes emblem on the back. It doesn’t look like an extra car Apollo just had on hand, either. It looks brand fucking new.
“They didn’t have any Subarus laying around?” I huff, biting my lip before making my way over to the car. “I have got to stop talking to myself.”
Ignoring the luxurious nature of this “loaner” car, I let myself in and breathe out. Of course it’s as pristine on the inside as it was on the out. Rich leather seats, fresh scent, and clean monitors.
Quickly hooking my phone up to the bluetooth and the GPS, I type in my destination while waiting for the engine to warm up a bit.
The closest store that sells women’s underwear that isn’t a superstore looks like a bit of a pricey boutique, but I have Apollo’s credit card and the intense desire to feel clean and soft panties between my legs.
Nothing makes me more uneasy than dirty or rough undergarments. If I spend too much, maybe Apollo will scold me, but at least I’ll have a comfortable vagina.
Once I hit the road, it only takes seven minutes to pull into the small shop’s side-street parking.
It only takes two minutes after that to discover this place is exactly as fancy as I feared.
The women shopping here are sporting Chanel handbags and Louboutin heels.
The place is dripping in designer scent too, probably sprayed daily with pricy perfume.
The name Amour de la Soie should have given that away. Everything with a French name is meant to be opulent. At least, anywhere outside of France.
“Can I help you?” a falsely bright voice asks.
The sleek dressed woman appears out of thin air, looking down at me with an expectant glance.
Her silky blonde hair is pin straight, with not a single fly away out of place.
I’m startled by her lack of welcoming tone, but don’t assume the worst. She could be having a long day, or perhaps she’s just a blunt person.
“I’m just going to shop around,” I answer politely. “I’ve never been here before, so I’m not sure what I’m looking for specifically yet.”
“Sure.” Her lips twist, looking down at my little wallet and phone like she’s disgruntled that I’m not carrying a whole purse.
So weird…
Awkwardly walking past her, I start to scan the shelves and displays, eyes bugging when I notice some of the pricing.
Fifty dollar thongs should actually be illegal.
They’re not even full panties, they’re triangles with strings.
There’s no shame in wearing whatever kind of underwear you want, but goddamn, a hundred dollars for two pairs of butt floss is insanity.
Still, there’s some cute things and some silky soft fabrics drawing my attention. I decide that I’ll grab a few things here and look elsewhere another time, unless I really like what I buy. I mean, Apollo said to spend his money. Might as well test him to see if that’s actually the case.
He said he wasn’t fazed by Armani’s haul, after all. And his brother has expensive taste. I guess I’ll find out if he was okay with it because it was Armani doing the shopping or because he truly doesn’t care how much Yordan and I spend.
“Those ones are comfortable,” a soft voice sounds from my side.
My eyes swing from the pink high-cut panties in my hand to a new face.
The woman looks about my age, her long black hair styled with perfectly laid knotless braids, little curly pieces wrapping around them.
She has dark umber skin, shiny brown eyes, and plump painted lips.
She also looks like a million bucks, wearing a navy blue sweater dress that fits her frame like a glove.
I realize I’m staring and shake myself out of it. “You like them?” I ask, looking between her and the clothing.
She flashes a glowing smile and nods. “I have them in black. First time here?”
“First time anywhere around here,” I admit. “I just moved.”
“Well, welcome,” she replies happily, extending a hand. “I’m Natalie.”
“Rayna.” I return her shake quickly, noticing that even her nails look perfectly polished. I must look like a hot mess to her. “Nice to meet you.”
“You as well.” Natalie retracts her hand. “Staying long? Or just visiting?”
“I,” I hesitate. “I think I’ll be around for a while. My brother and I just moved in and he seems keen on staying as long as we’re welcome.”
She nods in understanding. “Staying with a friend, then?”
“Sort of.” I bite my lip, deciding how much to share. “He’s put us up in a place he owns.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there,” she says, looking intrigued.
Before she can ask or before I can divulge more, her phone vibrates.
“Oof, you’ll have to excuse me for a moment, it’s my husband.
If I don’t answer he’ll assume I’m being held captive or something.
” Rolling her eyes, she huffs, “Men, am I right?”
She may be playfully complaining about him, but judging by her lips lifting into a grin and the giant rock on her left finger, I imagine she actually loves him quite a lot.
Must be nice.
While she moves away to take her call, I decide on three bras and five pairs of panties to bring to check out.
Maybe I’ll get to chat with her after she’s done, but either way, I don’t see myself buying more than I’ve picked out.
I don’t feel comfortable going too crazy with the purchases until I see how Apollo reacts to this one.
I get that the Morettis are rich, and apparently relatively generous with their money, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have a limit in mind when it comes to the strays they take in.
“Hi again,” I say, dropping the items onto the counter as I approach the woman from the door. “Just these, please.”
She stares at the small pile, and I swear her eye twitches as she begins to scan each tag.
The frosty lack of welcome coupled with the silent way she starts to check out my choices makes me think she must not like me personally.
Which makes absolutely no sense, since I’ve never met this woman in my life.
Once she’s finished, the total pops up on the screen. Over four hundred dollars, Jesus. I pass over the black card before she can ask, wishing there was just one of those little pin pad screens for me to do it myself.
The standoff-ish employee looks at the card, arches an eyebrow and then looks right back at me. “Do you have identification?” she asks, eyes flicking over me with a flare of cold distrust.
Taken back, I ask, “You need ID to buy bras now?”
She doesn’t miss a beat, smiling with forced sweetness. “Your card is suspicious, it’s just a precaution.”
My stomach sinks, a bit of unease growing instantly. “I’m sorry, what exactly is so suspicious about it?”
“This is a Moretti black card.” Her lip curls up, and not into a friendly smile. “Where’d you pick this up, hmm? Did someone drop it or did you take it?”
My jaw drops, completely thrown by the audacity to outright accuse me of theft.
Even more so surprised that she’s able to identify the kind of credit card I’m using.
I guess I can believe that Apollo would give me and Yordan a credit card branded after his family, but the fact that it’s look is notorious enough for a random shop worker to notice it?
Fucking ridiculous.
Trying to temper my reaction, I straighten my shoulders and look her in the eye. “It was given to me. Do we have a problem?”
“You certainly will when the rightful owners find you.”
I swallow hard, feeling an unwelcome wave of embarrassment burning up the back of my neck. “Okay, wow.”
I want to leave. Now.