"That's not what I meant."
He glances back at me.
"Never mind," I tell him.
Once we're outside, he leads me to the car, opens the door, and tosses my bag in the back, then offers his hand to help me in. "I don't want you getting in or out of the car alone again. Wait for me or security to open the door for you."
I nod, "Yes, Big Book Boss."
He chuckles and closes the door. Then calls over a member of his detail. His thighs frame the window. Big, strong, straight, tree trunks. I hear his deep muffled voice as he speaks. Then he trots around the front of the car. When he slides inside, he says, "Let's go shopping."
"What?" My nose crinkles. "Now?"
"Why not now?" He puts the sports car in drive and takes off.
"I don't know. I suppose it's as good a time as any. But what are we shopping for?"
"Your wardrobe."
"Oh…." Before I argue and cement in his mind my inept ability to navigate his world properly, I stop myself. There is no need to feign false modesty. My image reflects his. It's crucial I appear as put together as he is. Plain and simple, my clothes are rags in his world. "I assume I have a clothing allowance, then?"
He cuts his eyes at me. "Sure."
I laugh, "Did Chad have a clothing allowance?"
He laughs with me. "Chad's wardrobe was sufficient."
"So, he's the son of…?"
"A tennis buddy recommended him."
"Ah! You hired within the ranks of the rich and famous."
He nods, "For all the good it did me."
When we arrive at Manhattan’s Fifth Avenue, Mickey calls him. "I see you, boss. I'm four cars ahead."
He looks at me. "Prepare to exit the vehicle. Step immediately to the sidewalk and wait until I join you."
The car comes to a stop. My door opens. Mickey's big hand takes my arm, and he lifts me out of the seat. His arm goes around me, and he leads me to the sidewalk. Where we wait for Bastian to join us. Less than a minute later, I'm cuddled up against Bastian and being guided inside the Saks Fifth Avenue store.
When we walk in, he steers me to the escalators. "Shall we start at Barneys?"
I shrug and confess, "I've never shopped like this before."
"Like how?"
"I shop the clearance racks."
He chuckles, "Do you like sports?"
"I do."
"Then you'll love shopping like this. It's a competition for your money."
When we walk inside, he's greeted like an old friend, and I'm given the stink eye. He introduces me but doesn't offer information about my new position or why I'm here with him. He leaves them guessing. "I'd like a dressing room set up for myself and Samaera. Begin with business attire, then casual, comfy, everyday 'Hamptons,' but we will also need to see formal and informal evening wear."
"Right this way," the clerk turns, and we follow her inside. Three hours later, we emerge from the dressing room. I'm flushed from the champagne and dressed in a 'Hamptons' casual peach and cream-colored pants suit with matching heels. I feel like a million bucks. Not because of the beautiful clothes I'm wearing but because Bastian's eyes were panty-melting perfect in his critique and taste, making me feel like my value was worth spending a million bucks on.
