Chapter 16 #2
“The budget can handle it.” I stand and move closer. “You need all of them. There’s an event, and then there’s the dinner, and of course, you need a backup in case something happens.”
“Why would anything happen to my dresses?”
“You never know,” I say innocently. “Better safe than sorry.” I turn to Margot. “We’ll take all of them. Go change, Violet, and we’ll grab something to eat.”
I take her to a fancy human restaurant that I checked out online while planning this shopping trip. They have freshly baked croissants and a wide variety of breakfast items. I watch Violet dig in once the food arrives. She doesn’t seem to notice me staring at her.
Her happiness is addictive. When she smiles like this, I could watch her forever. As she chews her pancakes happily, I realize this is the first time she has let her guard down around me.
“Aren’t you going to have yours?” She eyes my plate, her own nearly empty. I push my waffles toward her. “I’m not really hungry,” I lie. “You want them?”
Her whole face lights up, and I try to hide my smile behind my cup of coffee.
We hit the shoe store next. Glass shelves display heels like works of art, and the carpet is so plush, my feet sink into it.
“We’ll just get one pair,” Violet says firmly as we enter. “Something that matches the red dress.”
“Sure.”
I guide her toward a display of evening shoes, my hand settling naturally at the small of her back.
She doesn’t pull away this time.
A young woman approaches with a bright smile and eager energy. “Can I help you find something?”
“She needs dress heels,” I say, gesturing to Violet. “And walking shoes. Comfortable ones.”
Violet’s head whips toward me. “Walking shoes?”
“The gala venue has extensive grounds. You’ll need something practical.” I keep my expression neutral. “Unless you want to walk around in fancy heels all day.”
Her mouth opens, then closes. I can see her trying to find a flaw in my logic.
“What size?” the saleswoman asks Violet.
“Seven and a half.”
The woman disappears into the back, and Violet turns to me, suspicion written all over her face. “One pair of heels, one pair of flats. That’s it.”
“Of course.”
I examine a pair of strappy, silver heels that would look incredible wrapped around her ankles—and around my shoulders. I clear my throat and set them down.
The saleswoman returns with an armful of boxes. “I pulled several styles. Let’s start with these.”
What follows is torture of the sweetest kind. Violet sits in the fitting chair while the woman helps her try on pair after pair. As I watch her feet slide into delicate heels, I notice the way they arch, how her calves flex with each movement.
“These are pretty.” She stands in a pair of gold heels, wobbling slightly.
“You can barely walk in them.” I point to another box. “Try the black ones.”
She shoots me a look but complies. The black heels are simpler yet elegant, with ankle straps that…
“Better,” I say, my voice rough.
She walks a few steps. Confident this time, no wobble. The heels add inches to her height, changing the way she moves. She looks powerful.
“We’ll take them,” I tell the saleswoman. “And the silver ones from that display. The burgundy pair she tried on earlier. Those nude ones in the corner.”
“Darius!” Violet stares at me. “That’s four pairs of heels.”
“You have four dresses. Each one needs appropriate shoes.” I nod to the saleswoman, who’s trying very hard not to look gleeful. “And the walking shoes. Multiple pairs. Different styles.”
“This is ridiculous,” Violet hisses, but the saleswoman is already pulling more boxes.
By the time we leave, I’m carrying six bags. Four pairs of heels in various colors, two pairs of comfortable, leather walking shoes that Violet actually smiled at, and a pair of ankle boots she tried to refuse until I pointed out that the forecast calls for rain.
“There is no way the company is covering all this,” she mutters as I load the bags into my SUV.
“It’s all necessary.” I close the liftgate. “We have one more stop.”
She looks at me warily. “Where?”
I check my watch. “You’ll see.”
The spa is tucked into the top floor of a modern office building, all glass and minimalist design. I can smell essential oils from the lobby, hear the soft trickle of water features.
Violet stops dead in the entrance. “Wait. What?”
“You have an appointment.” I start to guide her toward the reception desk, where a woman in crisp white waits to greet us.
But Violet doesn’t budge. “No. Absolutely not.”
“You can’t look your best if you’re not rested and relaxed.” I use my most reasonable tone. “The gala is stressful enough without adding unnecessary tension.”
“The company is not covering this.” She crosses her arms. “There’s no possible way.”
I lean down until my lips brush her ear. “It’s my discretion. The budget has to be used up, or I’ll lose it next year.”
She pulls back, studying my face. Her voice drops. “Darius…”
“Go.” I push her lightly.
The receptionist clears her throat delicately. “Ms. Violet? We’re ready for you. We have the full treatment package prepared.”
Violet looks between me and the receptionist, and I can see the exact moment she gives in. Or gives up.
“Fine,” she mutters. “But this is the last thing.”
I bite back a smile. “Of course.”
She follows the receptionist through frosted glass doors, glancing back at me once with an expression I can’t quite read. Nervous? Hopeful? I think she wants to believe this is okay but doesn’t quite dare to.
The doors close behind her.
I exhale slowly, running a hand through my hair. My wolf is content, pleased that we’re providing for our mate. Even if she still doesn’t know that’s what she is.
The receptionist returns. “She’ll be about two hours. There’s a coffee shop on the ground floor if you’d prefer to wait there, sir.”
“Thank you.”
But I have other plans.
The jewelry store I have in mind is three blocks away, upscale and discreet. It’s a human-owned boutique, one of the oldest in the city. I push through the heavy glass doors into a world of gleaming cases and soft lighting.
A woman in a satiny black dress approaches. “Can I help you find something?”
“I need a set. Necklace, earrings, bracelet, the works.” I move to the nearest display case, scanning the contents. “Rubies. Emeralds. Diamonds.”
Her expression remains perfectly neutral. “Of course. Do you have a particular style in mind?”
“Elegant. Not ostentatious.”
She pulls out several options, laying them on black velvet for my inspection. I take my time selecting them, imagining how each piece would look against my mate’s skin.
“Excellent choices,” the saleswoman says as she begins wrapping each piece, her tone professional. Ten minutes later, I leave with a stylish shopping bag, the weight of it satisfying in my hand.
After all, this is not merely jewelry. Not simply trinkets to dress her up for a gala.
It’s a claim. A statement.
She’s mine.
Even if she doesn’t understand it.
I make my way back to the spa building and find the coffee shop tucked into a corner of the atrium.
It’s quiet, sophisticated, the kind of place where people conduct business over expensive lattes.
I order black coffee and sit at a corner table with a view of the elevators, the jewelry bag safe at my feet.
And I wait.
My wolf paces restlessly, unhappy about being separated from her. Even though I know she’s safe, know she’s just upstairs being pampered the way she deserves.
I order a second coffee. Check my watch. The minutes crawl.
Finally, I see her step out of the elevator.
She looks different. Softer somehow. Her skin glows, her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, and there’s a relaxed set to her features that wasn’t there before. She spots me and walks over, her movements almost floating.
She slumps down in the chair across from me, a dreamy smile on her face. “That was amazing.”
Warmth spreads through my chest. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
“Enjoyed?” She laughs softly. “I think I left my body for a minute during the massage. Is that normal?”
“It means they did their job.” I pick up the jewelry store bag and slide it across the table. “I found these for you while you were upstairs.”
Uncertainty crosses her face as she peers into the bag. She pulls out the first box with trembling fingers. Ruby earrings catch the light. The next box reveals an emerald necklace. Then, diamonds that will wrap around her wrist like moonlight.
“Darius!” Her voice is barely a whisper. “These are—” She swallows hard. “They’re on loan, right? For the gala?”
“They’re yours.”
She’s silent for a full minute, gaping at the pieces I chose for her. Finally, she sighs, looking up at me. “You’re a liar.”
I just smile at her.
“I’m not stupid.” Her fingers trace the edge of the diamond bracelet with longing. “This is thousands of dollars’ worth of jewelry.”
I lean forward, reaching across the table to touch her cheek. The contact sends electricity through my palm. “Just pretend for me.”
She closes her eyes, her breath shuddering out. When she opens them again, there’s a look of defeat in them.
“I knew,” she says regretfully. “The whole time, I knew there was no company budget covering all this. In the back of my head, I knew.”
“And you still went along with it,” I murmur.
“Don’t get me wrong.” She glares at me. “It’s not because I want these things. I initially thought there really was a budget, until you bought all those dresses. That’s when I began to figure it out.”
“There is a budget.” I keep my voice light, trying to ease the tension that has crept back into her shoulders. “I spent it on coffee.”
A surprised laugh bursts out of her, and I can’t help it: I grin.
She stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “You just smiled.”
“I’ve smiled before.”
“Not like that.” Her cheeks flush pink. “That was different.”
I reach for my coffee to hide my own reaction. She noticed. She pays attention to me the way I pay attention to her.
“I can’t accept any of this.” She pushes the boxes of jewelry toward me.
“No one has to know.” I meet her eyes, pushing them back. “It’s just between us.”
She looks so defenseless in this moment, her guard completely down. “Why?”
I could tell her. Should tell her. That she’s my mate, that I want to provide for her, protect her, claim her completely.
But something stops me. Fear, maybe. Or the knowledge that once I say it out loud, everything changes.
“Just take it,” I say instead. “It’ll make me happy.”
She studies me for a long moment, and I wait for her to speak. “If I don’t take it, you’ll just find another way of getting me to accept it, won’t you?”
I take a sip of my coffee, hiding my satisfaction. “You’re finally learning.”
She shakes her head and carefully places the jewelry boxes back in the bag, handling them like they might explode.
“I’m starving,” she announces.
“Well, let’s get you fed.”
I take her to a small Italian restaurant a few blocks away. It’s the kind of place with checkered tablecloths and candles in wine bottles, intimate and warm.
Violet orders pasta with an enthusiasm that makes me smile. I order the same, genuinely hungry now.
The food arrives steaming and fragrant. She takes her first bite and actually moans.
My wolf perks up, very interested in that sound.
“This is incredible,” she says around another mouthful. “How did you find this place?”
“Research.” I twirl pasta into my spoon. “I wanted to bring you somewhere you’d like.”
She pauses, her fork halfway to her mouth. An odd look flickers across her face. Uncertainty. Maybe even nervousness. Her cheeks flush slightly, and she looks down at her plate.
“You researched restaurants for me?”
“I researched everything.” I gesture vaguely. “The dress shop, the shoe store, the spa, the jewelry boutique. All recommended for their quality.”
“You planned this whole day.” Her voice is quieter now, and she won’t quite meet my eyes.
“I wanted it to be”—I stop myself before I say perfect—“I wanted it to be worth your time.”
She’s still blushing, still looking unnerved. She eats another forkful of pasta, and I do the same, both of us preferring not to say any more.
It’s not uncomfortable, exactly. But there’s an awareness now, thick and tangible. Like we both know something has shifted today, but neither of us wants to acknowledge it.
We eat mostly in silence. I watch her finish her pasta, see the way she savors each bite. She catches me staring once, and her blush deepens, but she doesn’t call me out on it.
When the check comes, I pay without comment. She doesn’t argue this time.
The drive back to her apartment is quiet except for the soft music from the radio. The sun has set completely now, streetlights casting everything in amber and shadow.
I pull up to her building and kill the engine.
“Tomorrow,” I say, “I’ll pick you up at five in the morning.”
“Five?” She groans. “That’s so early.”
“The flight leaves at seven. I want to give us plenty of time.” I turn to look at her. She nods and gets out to gather her shopping bags from the back. There are so many of them that I decide to help her carry them inside.
Her apartment is filled with the scent that drives my wolf crazy. I set the bags down by her couch and turn to leave.
“Darius.” Her voice stops me at the door.
I look back.
She’s standing in the middle of her living room, her hair still soft from the spa, her skin glowing in the lamplight. She looks so beautiful, it physically hurts.
“You know this isn’t right.” Her voice is wary.
I cross the room to her and cup her face. “Don’t think too much about it. Sleep. Rest. You had a good day, and so did I.”
She hesitates and then nods, wrapping her arms around herself.
I kiss her cheek gently, wanting more—always needing more—but forcing myself to settle for something chaste.
Once I get back in my car, I sit there for a long moment, staring up at her windows.
My wolf is already counting down the hours until I see her again.
Five in the morning can’t come soon enough.