Chapter 27 Culture Shock
CULTURE SHOCK
Simone
Shopping on Newbury with Brendan proved to be an entirely different experience than when I was alone.
It probably helped that my fake fiancé was unbelievably gorgeous in his bespoke suit, and none of the salesclerks could stop staring at him.
But it was the casual mention of his name that mainly did the trick.
Black wasn’t technically etched across the storefront windows, but they certainly knew who signed their paychecks.
And probably who was on the cover of Forbes this month too.
“We’re here to do some serious damage,” Brendan said every time we entered a new store.
I had to stop myself from laughing at the fourth one. Meanwhile, Brendan’s unforgiving gaze shattered every clerk’s shallow condescension. Within seconds, they would dash off for a manager, who would inevitably jump into keen ass-kissing mode as soon as they spotted Brendan’s face and credit card.
Champagne. Espresso. Even a steak lunch. We were offered it all.
“Why are you asking me?” Brendan demanded once we were settled at Prioretti, a particularly ritzy boutique full of little black dresses from Italy. “I’m not the customer. She is. If my girl isn’t happy, then I’m not happy. And you do not want me to be unhappy. Understood?”
The clerk and Brendan both looked up as I stepped in front of a mirror to examine myself.
“And how are we feeling?” the clerk asked nervously. “Would we like another glass of champagne? Maybe some caviar?”
I snorted. Five for five.
“I’m good, thank you.” I was more interested in the way my Brendan was watching me through our reflections in the mirrors.
He clearly liked me in black and had insisted on several pieces at the other stores we’d been to.
It wasn’t a color I typically wore unless I was at the bar.
I gravitated more toward pastels and softer colors.
But I couldn’t deny the way I felt in this silk dress that fit me like a second skin.
Or the way I shivered when Brendan looked at me like that.
Like he wanted to kiss me again the way he had last night.
Like he wanted me to kiss him back.
“What do you think?” I batted my eyelashes. That heated regard brought out a coquette I never knew was in me.
Brendan cleared his throat, then discreetly adjusted his pants while the clerk wasn’t looking.
I wanted to drool. I’d felt just a hint of what the man had going on down there when he’d pulled me onto his lap, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it some more when I was falling asleep last night.
Or in the shower this morning.
Or right now, when he was watching me like a panther on the prowl.
“We’ll take it,” he said with a mild croak and turned to the clerk. “The others as well. Have them packed up and sent to this address.”
He whipped out the same card that he’d handed to the managers of the other stores, along with his Amex. Apparently, when you spent money like he did, you didn’t have to carry your shopping bags like a normal person. Everyone took care of everything for you.
“Of course, sir.” The clerk’s eyes had practically converted to dollar signs as he dashed off to ring up the order. “Right away!”
Brendan rose and approached me as I headed back into the dressing room. “You look…dangerously good in that dress,” he informed me as he crowded me into the little room.
“Not too poured into it?” I pulled at the silk. It was a little more revealing than I would typically choose, but it was definitely coming home with me now.
“Perfectly poured in.” Brendan ran a finger up my arm, then played with the thin strap over my clavicle. His lower lip found its way between his teeth, and he chewed for a moment before leaning in and pressing a kiss to my cheek.
His scent of sandalwood and dew enveloped me. For a moment, I thought he might kiss me again. I wouldn’t have fought him. I was starting to feel like that was a losing battle anyway.
“Brendan,” I whispered.
He shuddered. “Yes?”
He was waiting. Waiting for me to ask, just like he said.
I opened my mouth. But nothing came out.
His eyes shifted their focus to a spot over my shoulder, and he stepped away. The absence seemed to expand through my whole body.
“Someone was filming us through the shop window. It’ll make a good TikTok or whatever. Get dressed. I need to make a call, so I’ll meet you at the front.”
Of course. It wasn’t about the dress. It was about what we looked like buying the dress together. How could I have forgotten?
“And do we need any intimate or foundation garments?” the clerk asked when I approached the front desk with the last dress to add to the clothes he was hanging into a bag.
“Er, sure, I’ll take a look, I guess.” I looked at the other side of the store, where Brendan was on his phone, currently deep in conversation with someone—likely work. He’d had to take several of these calls today.
There wasn’t really a point, I knew. It’s not like my underwear was going to be photographed at galas or recorded in Page Six, and it was the one thing Brendan hadn’t suggested we stop for.
But part of me wanted to see what someone who bought these clothes would wear underneath them. No doubt Brendan Black was used to taking these garments off the kinds of women who could afford them. What did he see when he did?
I doubted it was panties from Target.
“As I’m sure you know, the house just started producing lingerie,” the clerk informed me. “We have some of the new pieces for select customers. Follow me.”
He led me to the far end of the store, where there was a bare, rococo-style table set up for samples. He pulled out a drawer, then set pieces of black lingerie for me to look at on the tabletop.
A few bras, some panties of different shapes. Even a matching garter belt with stockings. All constructed of lace so fine I could see through it.
If I had learned anything today, it was that true luxury wasn’t loud—it was in the details.
Luxe fabrics, perfect fits, true craftsmanship.
Each piece was a work of art sewn in an atelier somewhere in Europe, designed to last a lifetime if it was cared for properly, not just a few months before it would fall apart.
“She’ll take all of them.”
Brendan appeared behind me. His hand slipped around my waist, and he pulled me back to nuzzle my neck.
Something inside me sagged with relief at the renewed contact.
“Are you trying to torture me right now?”
I sucked in a breath as he pressed a kiss under my ear. Were there more people filming us right now? I was too absorbed in his touch to look around and see.
“Wrap them up,” Brendan ordered the clerk. “Now.”
“Right away, sir.” The clerk was completely unfazed, as if Brendan hadn’t just chosen intimate underthings for me. “I’ll add them to your bill.”
“Good. You can try those on at home, angel. Just for me.”
My skin prickled at the idea of doing just that.
Maybe in the bedroom I hadn’t seen but still imagined Brendan relaxing in every night.
It was all too easy to see the fire in his eyes as I walked through the door, modeling for him.
Enjoying his regard. Knowing he thought I was perfect, if just for him.
I’d never been much of a flirt, never the sex kitten type, but even the idea of undoing Brendan Black made me want to Google “How to do a striptease.”
It was confidence. Yesterday, I’d felt like nothing, and today, for the last several hours, he’d made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. It might have been an act, but it still had the same effect.
He made me feel like I could do anything.
And that was a dangerous thing indeed.
Stop it, I told myself as he took my hand and led me back to the front of the store so he could pay.
It’s a business arrangement, I chanted mentally, despite the fact that fingers toyed with mine while he signed the bill.
He. Doesn’t. Want. You, I insisted when he tucked me under his shoulder and rubbed my hip like I belonged to him.
Okay, maybe that last one wasn’t completely true. He wanted to sleep with me. He’d been quite direct about wanting to mix business with pleasure.
And why shouldn’t you? a voice that sounded suspiciously like my sister’s demanded in the back of my mind. He’s hot. You’re hot. And it’s been how long since you got laid? What’s the problem if you’re two consenting adults?
The problem, I had to remind myself, was that I didn’t have casual sex, and definitely never with my boss.
Once my body went to those vulnerable spaces, my mind inevitably followed.
The more intense the sexual attraction, the more intense my heart tended to get too.
And based on my body’s response to Brendan Black, there was no way I’d be able to keep things compartmentalized when it came to him.
I was already struggling as it was. He was giving me ten million dollars to be a professional. I couldn’t afford to screw this up by falling for a man who had no intention of loving me back.
Brendan’s phone rang, and he stepped away again while the clerk finished wrapping up my new things.
“Mr. Black seems to be very fond of you,” he said once Brendan was out of earshot.
“I’m very fond of him as well,” I replied, somewhat stiffly.
Then I decided on something else. At every store, Brendan had casually name-dropped Blackguard to make sure the clerks always knew their place, but my name hadn’t come up once.
There was nothing in the contract that required me to be an accessory no better than one of my new handbags.
I put out my hand and introduced myself with a friendly smile. “You’ve been so helpful. Simone Bishop.”
The clerk shook my hand with a bemused grin. “I know, honey. Everyone from here to Miami knows who you are by now.”
“Oh?”
There were only a handful of other customers here. But now that I was looking, I saw the quick, fleeting glances my way. People were indeed noticing me.