Chapter 9 #2
A black-haired salesperson unlocks the door and lets us into the shop.
Inside Angeli’s, there’s a second salesperson waiting for us.
A tray with chilling champagne and orange juice, along with two glasses, sits next to a tower of cakes and cookies.
Ella’s eyes are wide as she takes everything in.
Glass cases show off lingerie sets, and stately mannequins model silky, lace-trimmed pajamas.
Walls with inset racks display bras and panties in muted and bright shades, both.
“You must be Ella. I’m Vai, and this is Hattie,” the dark-haired assistant says, smiling kindly at Ella. “We’re here to help you out this morning.”
“Thank you,” Ella says.
Vai gestures her toward an area at the back of the shop. “Let’s get you fitted.”
“Oh, sure.” Ella flashes me a quick grin before the assistants hustle her toward the changing area.
The changing area is set up so that Ella has a stall to dress in, adjacent to a private sitting area. I make myself comfortable on a sofa that looks barely capable of holding my weight. Luckily, it’s sturdier than it looks.
Vai returns from the dressing room. “She says all she wants is a bra and panty set.”
“She’s getting more than that,” I say. “This is her birthday gift. I’m spoiling her. Take her several bra and panty sets to try, as well as nightgowns, pajamas, anything else.”
“Yes, sir,” Vai says.
“Oh,” I add quietly, “and can you remove the price tags?”
Her eyebrows rise up on her forehead.
“She’ll balk if she sees the cost,” I explain. “I just want her to enjoy the gift without worrying.”
“Understood. We can do that for you, of course.”
Once Vai and Hattie have brought in several outfits for Ella to try, they step out of the sitting room to give us some privacy.
“Are you expecting to see me in all of these things?” Ella calls from the dressing room.
“Only if you want to show me,” I say. “This trip is for you, little girl. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
Because eventually, I hope to see her in everything that she likes. Doesn’t matter if it’s now, or tomorrow, or a week or month away. The whole point is that she likes the lingerie and feels sexy and beautiful and confident.
She steps out of the stall a moment later wearing a cotton candy-pink shorts and cami set. The fabric looks silky and soft, and the lace-trimmed edges are girly and cute.
“What do you think, Daddy?” she asks, looking at me from underneath her eyelashes.
My cock hardens. “I think if we were at my place right now, I’d be yanking down those shorts and spanking you because it should be illegal how cute you look in those pajamas.”
“So you’d spank me for looking cute?”
“No, I’d spank you because you like spankings.”
She giggles. “Fair enough.”
She doesn’t show me everything that she tries on, but every now and then she steps out to take a few sips of her mimosa and eat a cookie. Every time, she’s wearing something that makes my cock twitch. I can tell she really loves these things—she loves feeling sexy.
One of the assistants, Vai, knocks at the open doorway behind me before stepping inside. “How’s everything fitting, Ella?”
“It’s great,” she says from in the dressing room. “Everything here is so nice. I don’t know how I’m going to choose!”
“Do you need different sizes in anything?” Hattie asks, joining Vai and me while we wait for Ella.
“No, it’s all good. I’m just about done.”
After another minute, Ella opens the door, wearing her regular clothes. There are two hooks with lingerie hanging on them.
“Tell me what’s going on here,” I say, pointing to the hooks.
“This one is definite no and this one requires some tough decisions,” she says, smiling fondly at the “decisions” group.
“Everything in the tough decisions group, we’re getting,” I tell Vai and Hattie.
“Wait—what?” Ella says. “I thought you were going to help me narrow it down.”
“You’ve already narrowed it—like and dislike. We’ll get everything you like.”
She looks at the enormous bundle of silky and lacy fabrics. “That’s too much, Kingston.”
“No, it’s really not. This is for your birthday, sweetheart. Let me treat you.”
Probably realizing that there’s no way to dissuade me, she gives up and throws her arms around me. “Thank you. Thank you. I don’t know how much this costs, and I’m not going to ask, and I’m just going to be grateful.”
“Good girl,” I murmur, before sliding my card from my wallet and passing it to Hattie.
After spending far more than Ella would’ve approved, and far less than I’d anticipated, Ella and I leave Angeli’s to grab a bite to eat.
By the time we’re finished, it’s nearly time for Ella to meet with her friend.
Selfishly, I wish I could just bundle Ella into my car and take her far away.
Maybe to Mirarosa, where we could relax for weeks together, and I could see her in every piece of this lingerie.
But it seems Ella doesn’t have that many people she calls friends.
I want her to thrive and feel loved—not just by Bash and me, but by other people she wants in her life.
And that means ensuring she spends time with those friends.
“I see Natasha over there,” Ella says, pointing to a coffee shop.
“Do you want me to have Garth take your bags back to the penthouse?” I ask.
She looks at the gargantuan collection. “I can’t believe you bought me all of this.”
“I can’t believe you finally let me. You’re getting big rewards tonight, little girl.”
Her cheeks turn pink. “Let me take one bag to show Natasha. She’ll want to see what I got.”
I wait while she selects one, then bend to kiss her still-blushing cheek. “Have a good time, sweetheart. Thanks for spending the morning with me.”
“Thank you for the shopping trip,” she says. “I’ve never felt so spoiled.”
If I had my way, I’d be spoiling her constantly.
Ella
My coffee with Natasha goes well. She’s really happy with her new boyfriend, and her fellow servers at Chez Michel have been welcoming. I refrain from complaining about still not finding a position, because the point of this get-together is to celebrate her new job, and I’m genuinely happy for her.
Besides, maybe Kingston is right, and my VideYou channel is just the beginning. More could come from that. Maybe now is the time I should grab my chance and run with it.
After almost two hours of chatting, a guy with curly blond hair steps into the coffee shop.
“That’s him!” Natasha says, waving the guy over. “Ella, this is Gabe. Gabe, meet my bestie, Ella.”
My heart expands. She called me her bestie. I didn’t know she felt that close to me, although I definitely feel that way about her.
The three of us chat for a minute before Gabe reminds her that their movie is starting soon, so the two of them head out.
I grab another coffee and pull my phone from my purse.
The plan is to read an ebook, but I’ll probably just obsessively watch the subscriber numbers on my VideYou channel, and check the comments section for new activity.
The other day, Bash threatened to confiscate my phone if I couldn’t control myself.
Remembering his playful but very real threat, I think about how that kind of obsessing was causing my self-esteem to take a hit.
So, instead of clicking on the VideYou app, I open up my Reading app instead.
Sebastian would be so proud.
It’s weird having a day off. I’m not used to not working, and the fact that I can just sit for hours is surreal. Soon enough, though, I relax into the story I’m reading and lose track of the world around me.
“Is that a bag from Angeli’s?” an incredulous voice says from just to the side of me.
Startled, I look up and see Joel. Of all the rotten fucking luck. He’s wearing a pair of jeans that are designed to look cheap and well-worn but are probably worth a month of my rent at my old place.
I nudge the bag closer to my leg. An A is emblazoned on the side, with a crown hanging off the point—the logo of the store. “As you can see, yes, it’s from Angeli’s.”
“So you’re still fucking my dad and Sebastian,” he says.
“Go to hell, Joel.”
“You moved in with one of them, didn’t you?” he says.
I don’t say anything. It isn’t his business. I don’t have to answer his questions. I start to gather my bags. I’m not going to sit here and listen to his abuse.
“Of course you moved in with them.” His blue eyes are cruel—nothing like his dad’s. “Well, I bet that’s a step up from your tiny apartment. You could barely fit a keyboard along one wall. You’re such a fucking gold-digger.”
I don’t need his judgment. I don’t need his mockery.
“I’m not a gold-digger,” I say, standing up, “but if that’s what you want to believe, fine.”
“No, don’t bother leaving,” he says, taking a step back. “I’m not going to get coffee here after all. They’ve really lowered their standards of clientele if they let in someone like you.”
He’s an asshole. But because I’m classier than he is, I don’t say it out loud in front of all these other people in the coffee shop, who even now are watching our altercation with concern.
It’s not until Joel is walking away that it hits me: he never came into my apartment. Not once.
So how the fuck does he know I had a keyboard that barely fit along the wall?