Chapter 6
Geneva
Brooke’s finely painted lips sneered just the slightest bit as I walked back through the door to the place I’d fled from only an hour before. “Change your mind, did you?”
Her accent was just a hint of English, almost completely submerged. She struck me as the sort who wouldn’t be above turning it on and off as needed in an attempt to impress people.
The woman was a head taller than me, but so slender she was almost gaunt, her teal knee-length dress seeming to hang off of her rather than accentuate whatever form she might otherwise have had.
“Rick said… I had to come back here. To see you about?—”
She silenced me with a dismissive wave of her hand. “He already called me.” Standing behind the glass display case where the cash register was, Brooke was flanked by several colorful fragrance displays. While the boutique might have smelled like a hooker’s boudoir, the Gucci and Fendi all over the front of the place—not to mention the Agent Provocateur toward the back where the lingerie could be found—left no doubt the store had some seriously high-end stuff.
“Look, I-I know I was…” I sighed, the words like chewing broken glass. But I needed to smooth things over. “I’m sorry I was rude earlier. I just… I was shocked, I guess.”
Her half smile was somewhat encouraging. “It’s nothing. Not the first time, to be sure.”
“That someone’s freaked out like that?”
She pursed her lips. “No—that Mr. Trafford’s sent girls to me for fitting out.”
Girls.
I decided to ignore the subtle dig. Though, to be fair, in comparison to her, I really was just an unsophisticated girl. Brooke, while somewhat cool, was a woman who exuded class—far more than I could muster up on even my best day. Thin to the point of painful she may have been, but her flawless makeup, the glittering bracelet at her left wrist, perfectly accessorized with layered necklaces, and the fine coif of her tastefully highlighted sable hair spoke of a woman who definitely knew how to put herself together.
The store was tucked in between two much larger office buildings in the heart of the commercial district. The door didn’t even have a sign, which I’d found to be truly strange, though the large picture windows did display the fact it was clearly a clothing boutique.
“Should we pick up where we left off?” Brooke indicated a pile of clothes at the end of the display case. “I saved the items I picked for you earlier.” She winked. “Just in case.”
“Yes… that would be fine.”
Brooke’s finger pointed toward the back of the store. “You can take everything off in there. When you’re done, come out and we can begin.”
“Begin? I… don’t understand.”
Brooke rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll close the front door. Nobody will see anything.”
“Everything?”
The woman tapped her lower lip with a long, slim finger, the nail painted a deep crimson. “I suppose panties and a bra will do then—but those will have to come off too when we try on the lingerie.”
“Lingerie?”I held up my hands. “I… I’m working in an office though. I don’t think lingerie… is really appropriate.”
“In his office it is.”
Oh, shit.
Brooke tipped her head toward the back. “I don’t have all day.”
“Do you mind if I ask you something?” I had to clear my throat, my mouth was so dry. “What exactly did he tell you he wanted?”
Brooke’s arms crossed, her patience clearly beginning to wane. “Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing unusual. Tight and form-fitting. Show off your figure, but keep it within bounds. That kind of thing. I’m quite good at finding what appeals to his… tastes.”
“Whoa…”
“Will there be a problem—again—Ms. Nantes?”
“Look, I’ll go along with this. Not like I really have a choice. But… you know this isn’t even in the same zip code as appropriate, right?”
Oh course, neither was being taken over his desk and spanked like a disobedient girl. But that hadn’t stopped him.
Why hasn’t it stopped you?
Brooke shrugged, utterly unaffected. “Shall we get started?”
Just get it over with.
I walked reluctantly back to the changing room, quite sure my day couldn’t have gotten any more surreal.