Chapter 13 #3
Sophie shakes her head, chuckling. “Okay. So what? That’s not a huge deal, right?”
“It wouldn’t be, but I’m pretty sure he heard me.”
Both of them howl with laughter, rolling on the leather seats. I rub my forehead, trying to ward off a headache.
“Glad you guys are finding this funny,” I grouse.
“I’m sorry, Olivia,” Riley gasps between cackles. “But… it’s objectively funny.”
“Thank you for your support.” I sigh, leaning back against the headrest. “I can never show my face in that apartment again.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it so much,” Sophie says once she’s calmed down a little. She’s still grinning from ear to ear, but the fit of laughter has subsided. “You’re totally fine.”
“What do you mean?”
“Isn’t that exactly what the gift was for?” she reasons. “To take the edge off, right? He’s probably glad you’re using it.”
“Yeah,” Riley chimes in. “Why would he get you a vibrator if he didn’t want you to use it? Just to put it on your shelf?”
Instantly, an image flashes through my mind—Reed, standing at the foot of my bed in his penthouse, watching me use the vibrator. His gaze locked on mine, eyes hungry.
I squirm, suddenly hot and bothered, and press my legs together. Time to change the subject.
“Where are we going first?” I ask.
Riley and Sophie exchange a glance, amused by my transparent attempt to divert the topic of conversation, but they both indulge me.
“There’s a few couture shops a couple blocks ahead,” Sophie tells me. “We’ll look for some dresses, then maybe check out a jewelry store for the ring.”
I take a deep breath, allowing myself a moment’s excitement. It’s been a long time since I’ve been shopping, and today, I get the chance to find myself a pretty ring on Reed Eastwood’s dime. Sophie was right. I should do my best to just enjoy this.
The car comes to a stop, and I move to leave, but Sophie puts her hand on my shoulder and shakes her head. “The driver will let you out. Remember?”
A few seconds later, he opens the door closest to the sidewalk, and the three of us pile out of the car. I give him a grateful nod, and he dips his head in return.
“There’s a steep learning curve, isn’t there?” I say to Sophie and Riley, both of whom chuckle.
The three of us head into one of the boutique shops. I recognize the name on the sign from some reality TV fashion show; the designer of these dresses is a big deal. The store is stocked with their most recent collection, a series of beautiful gowns in burgundy and black.
Immediately, all three of us dive into the racks headfirst, sifting through the gorgeous dresses.
I’ve never seen such beautifully-tooled clothing in my life.
My idea of a fancy dress was a decent one from an outlet, three or four years out of season.
This is something else. These designs are brand new.
Riley holds up one, a maroon, off-the-shoulder number with a chiffon top and embroidered skirt. “This is such a good color for you!”
“Wait, wait,” I say. “What exactly am I looking for here? What do I need this dress for?”
“Well, you’ll probably want one for date nights,” says Sophie. “After all, I’m pretty sure you’re guaranteed to have run-ins with the paparazzi.”
She’s right; that’s kind of the idea, after all. If my picture’s going to be in some tabloid, I want to at least look put-together.
“And you’ll need one for the engagement photoshoot, right?” Riley adds. “Probably something a little more formal than the date night dress.”
I crack my knuckles, nodding. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
After around ten minutes of perusing the racks, I find a dress with a knee-length skirt, made from burgundy satin and a layer of black organza. It’s classy and elegant, but not too formal—perfect for date nights.
The dress’s price tag catches my eye, and I flinch at the number displayed on it. My nicest dress cost me a couple hundred dollars. This one is almost three thousand. I have to resist the urge to return it to the rack, suddenly worried I’ll rip a stitch on it and owe the store.
While I’m examining it, a clerk approaches me with a smile. “Are you Ms. Olivia Quinn?”
“I…” I stare at her, too stunned to respond.
She seems to understand, and explains, “Mr. Eastwood gave us a call to let us know you would be coming in. If you have any questions or concerns, please direct them to me.”
A flush creeps across my face. “Oh. Well, um, I’m okay for now. Thank you.”
“He also mentioned that your name has been added to his account, so if you would like to charge your purchases to him, let us know at checkout.”
In a daze, I nod, accepting her words. She drifts past me, approaching Sophie and Riley, who are on the opposite side of the store.
I’m not quite sure how to feel about this development. I guess it makes sense that Reed should pay for these dresses, since they’re all part of our agreement and he’s more than capable of it. But still, it feels like a kindness that I could never repay him.
And I’m unaccustomed to being treated this way. Like royalty. People holding doors for me, addressing me like I’m a VIP.
I glance back at the dress, looking it up and down. It really is beautiful, and I’m sure that all of the other dresses in this store are bound to cost a similar amount.
Sophie’s words float through my mind again: Once you start to embrace the perks, you’ll find yourself enjoying them.
I drape the dress over my arm and cross the shop, looking for Riley and Sophie.
The two of them have gathered an impressive array of potential dresses for the engagement shoot. These are longer evening gowns, more formal than the date night dress I picked.
They’re all stunning, and it takes me a long time to decide, but I eventually select an intricately patterned silk gown, form-fitting and sewn with pearls.
At checkout, I ask the clerk to put the purchases on Reed’s account, to which she smiles and nods. I’m reeling a little bit as we walk out of the store, stunned by the amount of his money I just spent. It’s dizzying.
Sophie and Riley seem to understand my shock, but they’re also enjoying themselves—and doing their best to get me to enjoy it, too. Our next stop is a jewelry store, for the most important part of our shopping trip: the ring.
We talk in the car on the way over, and I admire Riley and Sophie’s rings, each set with beautiful, uniquely cut diamonds.
“I probably can’t expect something like this,” I say mournfully. “If this were real—”
“Oh, come on,” Riley encourages me. “Why not? Find a ring you actually like.”
I shake my head. “This is really more about practicality.”
“So? Reed will want you to pick out something you like. I know it,” says Sophie.
We pull up outside of the store, and this time, I remember to wait in the backseat until the driver opens the door. The three of us file into the store, and I blink rapidly, my eyes adjusting to the blaze of light inside the store.
Outside, it’s a cloudy day, but in here, every corner is illuminated by spotlights designed to catch the facets of the gems. Hundreds of priceless rings glitter in the display cases around us, attended by the jewelry store’s staff and half a dozen cameras.
Tentatively, intimidated by the security atmosphere, I approach one of the display cases. The attendant gives us a tight-lipped smile.
“You must be Ms. Quinn,” she says. “Welcome.”
“Hi,” I say nervously in reply.
Riley claps me on the shoulder. “We’re looking for an engagement ring!”
The attendant inclines her head, then gestures to the display case before us. “These are some of the finest we have in stock. Pure platinum and white gold. Each of these diamonds is at least three carats.”
I glance down to inspect the case, and immediately, my eye catches on the ring in the center. The stone is a perfectly-cut, crystal-clear diamond, cut into a stunning, beveled square shape. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, the band of the ring lined with smaller, glittering gemstones.
It seems to glow in comparison to the others. I can’t stop staring at it, and it twinkles back at me, like it knows exactly how much I love it.
I point at it, looking up at the jeweler. “How much is this one?”
“That one is white gold, and the gem is four carats,” the jeweler replies. “It’s priced at one hundred and twenty-five.”
“One hundred and twenty-five dollars?” I blink, surprised. “That’s such a steal.”
The jeweler frowns at me, and before she even says anything, I realize my mistake. “One hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars,” she corrects gently.
“Oh,” I say. “Of course.” And then I laugh quickly, to cover up my embarrassment. How many times am I going to make a fool of myself in one day?
“It’s so pretty, Olivia,” says Riley next to me. “Do you want us to send a picture of it to Reed?”
“Are you kidding me?” I shake my head. “I love it, but holy shit. That’s way too much. I’m not asking him for a ring worth over a hundred grand.”
Riley and Sophie exchange a swift glance, then the former shrugs. “Whatever you say.”
“I’ll find a cheaper one.” I pace away from Riley and Sophie, who linger by the case of way-too-expensive rings. To the jeweler, I say, “I’m looking for something a little more reasonable.”
“I can show you a few options. Come right this way.”
She leads me to a new case on the opposite side of the store. This one is full of less jaw-dropping rings—still beautiful, but somehow less noticeably so than the one that caught my eye. I stare at the assortment for a few minutes, trying to make myself feel something about any of the new options.
I can’t bring myself to, so after a long moment, I point at a teardrop-cut diamond in one of the corners.
Riley and Sophie join me at the new case. “Is that the one?” Riley asks, following my gaze.
I shrug. “It’ll work.”
“You don’t sound particularly excited about it,” she ventures.
“It’s fine for this situation.” After all, there’s no point forgetting what this is: a fake engagement. Why spend so much money on a priceless, genuine diamond, only to celebrate something that isn’t even real?