Chapter 10 #2
I drift toward a rack of dresses, running my fingers along the fabrics. Silk, cashmere, alpaca. Things I've never touched outside of a department store where I was too afraid to check the price tags.
“I can’t afford anything in here, you know.”
Rian smirks. "You don't need to worry about the money, Noemi. Ever. That part of your life is done."
“What, you just go around spending exorbitant amounts of money on girls you save from sex slavery?”
“Not girls.” He cocks his head. “Just you.”
I shake my head. What am I supposed to say to that? He’s insane.
Giving up, I pull a soft white sweater from a shelf and hold it up. It's beautiful and simple; it probably costs more than my rent.
"That's gorgeous with your skin tone," Jared says, appearing at my elbow like a very fashionable ghost. “Do you like any color palettes? Spring, summer, autumn?”
“Um.” I blush. “I like jewel tones. No patterns…”
“Okay. I’ve already selected some styles, but I’ll pull some more while you’re in the dressing room.”
"Thanks." Glancing over my shoulder at Rian, I give up and shop for a bit. I find a pair of jeans that look like they’d work, plus a basic white top. Then pair of black ballet flats.
I don’t know how long I’m supposed to be shopping for. The weekend? Or longer? It’s all so uncertain.
I’m looking at a rack of dresses when a flash of deep emerald catches my eye. Pulling the fabric out, I flush a little at the filmy texture. The dress is gorgeous, and it makes my chest hurt a little because my mom had one like it.
She wore it to anniversaries and nice restaurants, keeping it in a garment bag like it might bruise. I pull it off the rack before I've decided to.
"I want this one," I say. I’m claiming it, not asking for it. Saying the first thing I've coveted out loud since I was kidnapped.
"That’s a very elegant style.” Jared comes back, his arms weighed down by two huge piles of clothes. “Why don’t you bring that to the fitting room? I have the pieces Mr. O'Sullivan requested and a few statement pieces to start with.”
I glance back at Rian, who hasn't moved from his pillar. "I can’t believe you picked clothes for me."
"It was that, or I just order you one of everything." He arches a brow. “We could just do that. Save ourselves some time?”
“You’re crazy,” I huff.
"Try them on," Rian orders. "Or you’re getting everything."
He looks like he means it, too.
Jared ushers me toward a spacious dressing room with a velvet curtain and a full-length mirror.
I stand there, looking at myself in the white silk dress I'm wearing, one of the few things Rian had at his penthouse that fits me.
My dark hair is still damp from the shower.
I look pale, tired, and like a girl who's been through actual hell in the last week.
Which, in fairness, I have.
I strip and reach for the jeans first. They fit perfectly. Of course they do. The gray sweater sits right on my shoulders. I look human, not like the doll that Rian bought. My eyes sting with sudden tears, but I blink it away fast and grab the emerald dress.
It's gorgeous. The neckline lies just low enough to show my collarbones and the fabric hugs my waist and flares out at my hips. I twist to look at the back and feel something warm bloom in my stomach.
I look hot.
I push the curtain aside. Rian straightens from the pillar, his pale green eyes tracking from my bare feet up the length of the dress to my face. His jaw goes tight. "No," he says.
I frown. "No?"
"You're not wearing that in public." He crosses the floor in three long strides and stops close enough that I have to tilt my head back to look at him.
His hand comes up like he wants to touch the fabric at my waist, but he stops himself.
"Every man in this city would see you in that dress… I’d have to kill all of them. It isn't practical."
I stare at him. "You're joking."
"I'm not." His eyes drop to the neckline and stay there for a beat too long before snapping back to my face. "Keep it. You'll wear it at home. For me."
The possessiveness in his voice should make me furious. Instead, my cheeks flush. I feel heat pool low in my belly, which is extremely annoying. I turn back toward the dressing room, but not before I catch Jared carefully examining a display of scarves like his life depends on it.
Smart man.
I try on everything. The sleek lace bras fit. The matching panties fit. Even the shoes fit, flats and a few cheeky kitten heels.
When I come out in the jeans and gray sweater, Rian nods once, satisfied. He hands a black credit card to Jared without looking at the total.
"We'll take everything she tried on. And the items on the counter."
I peek at the counter. There are stacks of folded clothes I didn't even try on, plus two more shoe boxes, and what looks like a very expensive coat.
"Rian. That's too much," I protest. “I work in a bookstore. I’ll probably never make enough to pay you back.”
“Pay me back?” He looks at me with those unnerving green eyes. "My girl should be dressed in the finest things. Get used to me taking care of you."
It should sound like a threat, coming from this monster of a man. And yet, it sounds like a promise. I swallow and look away, fiddling with the hem of my new sweater while Jared bags everything up with quiet efficiency.
We leave the boutique loaded down with bags and are immediately swarmed by our new protection detail, which has now swollen in size to be twenty men in shades and dark suits. Rian’s driver, a thick-necked guy named Danny who doesn't smile, hands the bags off to security.
“Thank you.” I touch Rian’s hand. “I know that you weren’t exactly excited about leaving the house after the attack on the roof.”
He jerks under my touch, frowning, but a heartbeat later he pulls me closer. “Anything for you, pretty girl.”
In the car, I press my forehead to the cool window and watch the city roll by. New York looks different from this side of the glass. Safer, maybe, although that's probably the armored Bentley talking.
"Can I ask you something?" I say without looking at him.
"Mhm."
“How long do you think I need to stay away from my apartment?”
“I don’t know.” He sighs. “If I had my way, you’d stay forever.”
I smile and roll my eyes. “Forever is a long time. You’d be sick of me sooner or later.”
“No.” He pins me with a serious expression. “I wouldn’t.”
"You’re crazy. Anyway, I want some things from my apartment.”