Chapter 23 #2
I tried to laugh it off, though my insides froze at his statement. The person who was after me might be standing in front of me. Everything had become obscure the moment I remembered our past acquaintance. “How can someone be after me? We sailed away from the mainland.”
“I recently found out that it’s easy to sneak into this boat,” he pointed out.
Touché.
He kissed my temple and turned on his heel, procuring a sidelong glance from Natasha. I had half a mind to ask Amelie to stay, but Caden had assignments for her. She followed him with quick steps, leaving me alone with the wannabe future Mrs. Maxwell.
The room was suddenly cold and hostile.
Natasha thrust a notepad and a pen into my hands. “Write down the items you want on this pad.”
The tension between us was palpable, and I barely knew the woman.
Wandering around the boat in my robe wasn’t an option, so I complied.
We didn’t speak as we sorted through the racks, ignoring each other as much as possible.
The rustle of expensive fabrics and the background music were our only companions.
I kept sliding the hangers without glancing at the dresses, only looking at the price tags.
Five thousand dollars.
Three thousand dollars.
Six thousand dollars.
Sulking, I rifled through the casual wear instead.
Eight hundred dollars for a pair of jeans.
Four hundred dollars for a blouse.
Was everything in this store made of gold? What else could justify these prices? The cost of one blouse could have fed me for months on the streets.
Perhaps these outrageous prices wouldn’t bother me if I weren’t thoroughly familiar with hunger pangs.
Everything here was detached from the struggles of real life.
My stomach churned with a sudden wave of nausea.
Knowing how much food I could buy instead of one outfit made me physically ill over the wastefulness.
Screw this. I saw a thread kit in the bathroom. Perhaps I could sew a dress out of the bedsheet.
“Do you have anything under fifty dollars?” I finally asked her. I planned to defy Caden and work a few shifts in the kitchen to pay for a few items. Two outfits and a couple of bras and panties were all I needed. I could rotate the outfits until the end of this cruise.
Natasha’s lip curled with disgust. “Ew,” was the sound she made.
Okay, then.
She turned up her nose. “Why are you pretending like money’s an issue? We both know Dr. Maxwell’s picking up the tab.” The thought seemed painful for her to admit.
I had anticipated her hostility. What I hadn’t expected was the direct attack.
If I had to guess, Natasha was at a crossroads.
She hated that Caden offered to splurge on another woman, but she also wanted the fat sales commission.
After the things I had lived through, I couldn’t waste money on frivolous things, even on someone else’s dime.
I would forever compare material possessions to how much food I could buy with their estimated value.
“Don’t most stores have a sale section?” I pressed, ignoring the rest of her ramblings.
Her eyes broadened with barely contained irritation. “Stop pretending you care about saving Dr. Maxwell a few bucks. He’ll get angry with me if a new wardrobe isn’t selected by the end of the day. He doesn’t tolerate insubordination. Don’t get me in trouble with him,” she warned.
Finally, she spoke a language I understood. No one wanted to piss off Caden. If he left her with an instruction, it must be obeyed. It didn’t matter if my first instinct was to check the price tags and calculate the conversion rate of this long red gown to the cost of food.
Instead of harping on about it, I changed the topic. “How long have you known Caden?” I asked curiously.
Her mouth dropped, unimpressed. “What gives you the right to call him that?”
The sniped words had their intended reaction—confusion. “Sorry?”
“Dr. Maxwell doesn’t allow anyone to call him by his first name. Don’t make that mistake again,” she announced possessively as if she were waiting at the edge of her seat for the day he granted her permission. Until then, everyone else must also call him Dr. Maxwell.
My brows shot up. Today, he insisted I call him Caden and seemed angry I hadn’t taken the initiative myself.
Instead of arguing with her, I restarted my search and landed on a pair of black lacey panties at the reasonable price of one hundred dollars. It was the cheapest thing in her inventory, and I was desperate to wear underwear.
Much to my chagrin, they felt like air when I pulled them on under my robe.
Natasha held up a champagne-colored dress with pearl strands extending from the collar to the waistline. Tiny gold-plated chain links went around the collar. At least this outfit satisfied my curiosity—these dresses were made of literal gold.
“This should work for the Captain’s Welcome Reception,” she mused, struggling to keep her previous ire at a minimum. “Try it on.”
I didn’t argue, desperate to escape the tension for a few minutes. “Sure.” I grabbed the dress and headed for the bathroom to try it on, but she blocked my path.
She tsked, irritated. “Change out here so I can fit it properly.”
I shook my head, having learned my lesson after how the beauty team reacted to my scars. I wouldn’t subject anyone else to that again. “Erm. I’ll change in the bathroom.”
Her eyeballs went to the ceiling. “Without my help, you might break the zipper or tear the fabric. This isn’t off-the-rack, this dress needs to be handled delicately.” Her insinuation was clear—I was inept at handling such expensive fabric unsupervised.
“I’ll be super careful, I promise. I-I don’t like changing in front of other people.” Trust me, I’m saving you from some nasty nightmares .
“Give me a break,” she snapped. “Women like you disgust me. You pretend to be all innocent to bait a rich husband. Drop the shy act. Dr. Maxwell isn’t here for you to impress.”
I clutched the soft fabric of the dress with trembling fingers.
My panic was accelerating with her rising aggression, my skin prickling with nervous sweat, and it was over a silly dress that equated to one thousand meals.
I much preferred the food. I slid the dress back on the rack.
“You know what? I don’t need the dress after all. ”
She was ready to hit the roof, utterly displeased by my change of heart.
“Oh, so you can tell Dr. Maxwell I am the reason you have nothing to wear at the gala, and then I get into trouble,” she said viciously.
“Dr. Maxwell gave me a job, and I’ll handle it like a professional.
” She held up the dress again. “Now, strip.”
I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my composure. As her gaze bore into me, my resolve crumbled. I didn’t fight when she strode forward, untied my belt, and pushed the robe off my shoulders.
As soon as the robe dropped, her first impulse was to scream. It was so high-pitched that the guard from the hallway materialized at the door. Scrambling, I grabbed the robe off the floor and threw it around me.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” The woman at the door wore an all-black security uniform, and when she pushed farther into the room, I read her name tag—Linda.
I instinctively wrapped my arms around myself, wishing I could disappear.
“What happened?” she prodded, her chin-length blonde hair bouncing as she looked between us.
“What the hell are those ?” Natasha shouted.
I flinched at her words.
“Calm down,” Linda told her patiently.
“Me? You’re asking me to calm down?” Natasha breathed heavily, angry beyond reason, her voice rising by the second. “Someone marked her body. Have you seen it? Were you in a gang or something?”
Linda cut me a confused glance.
My insides froze at Natasha’s accusations. Even for a K-drama villainess, she had gone overboard with her far-fetched theories. I had no idea when or how I got those scars, but I doubt sporadic marks on my midriff were a gang initiation.
Since I couldn’t rule out a criminal past with certainty, I tried a nonreactive approach, neither admitting nor denying her baseless allegations. Smoothing out my face, I imitated Caden’s signature poker face mask.
Natasha raised her arm, her index finger pointing at me.
“We all know he found you on this boat, trying to steal food. You’re a criminal.
And if I had to guess, you sell yourself on the streets for money.
Do you know what would happen to his reputation if he was linked to someone like you?
He took pity on you, and you’re exploiting him.
Why would you jeopardize his career and everything he has built after he saved you? ”
It turned out I didn’t have Caden’s natural knack for expressionless faces. My bottom lip trembled. Someone left those abhorrent marks on me, yet I was responsible for how the scars affected the people around me and their reputations.
“I don’t understand what the hell he sees in you,” Natasha mumbled.
There it was.
What Natasha meant was— Why you and not me ?
It dawned on me that she didn’t hate me because of Caden or her suspicions that I might have a criminal past. She was glamorous, polished, and perfect; she couldn’t accept defeat to a woman filled to the brim with imperfections.
Conceding to me, someone beneath her in rank, station, and beauty, was a blow to her ego.
She would have reacted better had Caden picked a woman of his stature.
My stomach somersaulted when I thought I heard footsteps in the hallway, and I prayed it was Caden coming to the rescue. My heart sank upon realizing the sound was coming from the room downstairs.
Was it possible for someone to be your source of comfort, though they could also be a threat to your existence?
All day, I had ping-ponged between two warring emotions where Caden was concerned.
But now, he was the only person I wanted to see.
The few times he saw my scars, there was never revulsion in his eyes.
Instead, he stared at me with awe, like I was a celebrity and he was my devoted fan.
But he wasn’t here, and I needed this humiliation to end. “Let’s call it a day. I-I… I’ll just take whatever you recommend for the gala. I don’t need to try it on.”
Her eyes glittered maliciously. “Are you serious?” she spat. “You think I want a criminal wearing the collection from my shop? I’m not selling you one piece of clothing.” She nodded at my crotch. “I don’t even want you wearing that underwear. Take it off.”
I looked down between my thighs.
When I didn’t move, she started toward me. “Either take it off, or I’ll do it for you.”
She wouldn’t dare, would she?
“Ma’am,” Linda warned Natasha from the door. “Don’t make me restrain you.”
Linda didn’t get the chance to step in before Natasha pounced. Panic rose in my chest as she reached for me, her fingers like claws digging into my skin.
“Give it back to me,” Natasha screamed hysterically, trying to pry open my bathrobe. “Give it back, you stupid bitch.”
After that, everything went dark.