I don’t know what the hell is going on. But I take the ring off, laying it on the velvet cushion in front of me. “Thank you for your help, Carissa.”
“It was all my pleasure,” she coos, and she means it. Guess money can buy you anything, even rose-colored glasses for strangers.
I give Ares one last glance, still confused, but I head to the door, which the woman with the blunt hair opens for me.
As soon as I step outside, a man in a suit exits the vehicle. He’s massive and sturdy, like a mountain. His brown hair is buzzed short. His hands are like hams. And the fact that he’s wearing some very, very dark, very good coverage sunglasses tells me he’s likely a vampire. “Miss Lana, I’m Billings.”
I reach out and shake his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Right this way, Miss Lana.” He pulls open the back seat door for me and waits.
A small spike of fear shoots through me. I can handle myself pretty damn well. But Billings is a Goliath and a vampire.
But Ares sent him for me, and I have to trust Ares.
So, I climb into the back seat.
Moments later, we’re rolling down fifth avenue. We drive three blocks, a distance I could have easily walked, before he stops in front of a shop with a name so French sounding, I have no idea how to pronounce it.
Billings exits and opens my door for me once again. “Mrs. Lamont will assist you inside.”
I simply give a nod of thanks and pull the door open.
This place looks nearly as opulent as the jewelry store. Except there are racks of clothing I’m scared to breathe around.
“You must be Lana,” a voice asks as it approaches from the back. A woman steps out, dressed like she’s ready to go to a burlesque opera. Her accent matches the origins of the store.
“I am,” I answer, feeling uncomfortable and completely out of my league. “Are you Mrs. Lamont?”
“I am,” she says with a bob of her head. “Mr. Hunt asked me to help you with your new wardrobe.”
For a moment, I’m tempted to be offended or judge him. But I have to remind myself what he said at the jewelry store.My last name is Hunt, Vengeance. Trust me, there’s a certain level of expectation that comes with it. Bigger.
“Thank you,” I offer instead. And I notice that, once again, there are no other customers in the store.
Mrs. Lamont guides me back to a private fitting room that is as big as my new closet, and that’s saying something. Wrap-around mirrors take up one end of the room. There’s a platform set up in the center of the room like I’d expect to see in a bridal store. A singular chair sits opposite the mirrors. A rack of clothes is already placed in the room, pre-picked at Ares’ instructions.
One by one, Mrs. Lamont has me begin trying items on. Expertly, she evaluates them on me. And she sorts the items onto two different racks. Keep or discard.
Skirts. Tops. Dresses. Pants. Even shoes of every type imaginable.
I’m smoothing my hands over my hips, looking at myself in the mirror as I wear a silky red dress when the bell at the front door dings. Just three seconds later, I hear the sound of footsteps, and Ares walks in.
He takes in a deep breath through his nose. Even though I can’t see his eyes behind those shades, Ifeelthem on me. Down my hips, over my thighs, before rising back up over every single inch of me.
“Do I make a decent Barbie doll?” I ask, arching an eyebrow at him.
“I never expected I’d appreciate dress-up play,” he confesses, not a bit of shame in his words. “That one is going in the yes pile, Mrs. Lamont.”
“Of course, Mr. Hunt,” she says with the dip of her head. “We’re about done here. Just two more things.”
And I don’t know if I’m horrified or thrilled when Ares walks to that lone chair and sinks down into it. He leans back, his legs spread casually, his shoulders taking up the bulk of the seat.
He looks so damn appreciative and smug.
I wish it didn’t send a tingling wave of pleasure and satisfaction up my spine.
“You’re awfully presumptuous,” I call him out as Mrs. Lamont unzips the dress. I refuse to blush as the fabric slips down my body, revealing my black strapless bra. My body heats as it falls past my hips, showing my black underwear. I swallow once as I step free of the silken fabric and look back up to meet Ares’ eyes.
