Putting a perfect pout on her face, she clasped her hands under her breasts. “Pretty please?”
She had to know what she was doing, right? Lucy was trying to give me a little preview of what life would be like as her escort.
Fine.
Shrugging off my dress coat and handing it to the waiting sales associate who had offered to take it previously, I sat in one of the plush chairs situated for the best view of the podium. I could do this and be back at work before lunch. I’d tell Lucy she looked great in everything. How many pieces of clothing did she need for winter anyway?
This must be what hell feels like.
After six hours of this torture, Lucy showed no signs of slowing down. The boutique we began the day in was for business casual attire, and then we stopped in a shop for outerwear. Who needed twenty different winter coats? Lucy, that’s who, apparently. After that, it all became a blur, my only job being that of the bag bitch—sometimes, I got upgraded to purse bitch, but that was only a momentary reprieve.
Checking my watch for the hundredth time, I grumbled as Lucy scoured a shop dealing in accessories to find the perfect accent pieces to pair with the thousand outfits she purchased today. All right, maybe not a thousand, but seriously, how many clothes did one tiny woman require?
“I’d really like to stop by the office today before everyone goes home.”
Smiling sweetly, Lucy handed over her credit card to the salesman on the opposite side of the glass counter before receiving yet another bag for me to carry. “Don’t worry, darling. Only one stop left.”
Thank God. There was a light at the end of the tunnel. Sighing in relief, I held open the door to the tiny shop for her to exit. “Lead the way, Princess.”
Uh oh.
Lucy’s head snapped back to glare at me as those brilliant blue jewels masquerading as eyes narrowed. Yeah, I knew I fucked up. And I had been so close.
The driver was waiting with the black sedan—he’d been carting us around all day—but Lucy waved him off, electing to walk further down the sidewalk toward another shop. Followingbehind her, I had a perfect view of her ass swaying side to side quickly, her mounting anger evident with each step she took. Part of me was elated that I’d pissed her off after the day of hell she put me through, but the rational part of my brain knew I was about to be punished for it.
Stopping at a corner shop, she threw the door open and disappeared inside before I could catch up. Glancing at the storefront sign, I groaned inwardly—it was a shoe store. Mentally bracing, I opened the door for myself, entering to find Lucy gesturing to the lucky saleswoman who would likely make her entire month’s commission this afternoon.
Assuming my position as the doting boyfriend—likethatdidn’t turn my stomach—I dropped into a plush chair to view the same show I’d watched on repeat all day.
Two hours later, Lucy had tried on every pair of size-seven shoes the shop carried, and they were now littered around her on the floor. Curious, I bent over to pick up a box sitting near me on the floor, inspecting the pair of pumps.
Musing to myself, I said, “What’s the point of red soles on these?”
Lucy cleared her throat, and I peered up at her. Smirking, she sauntered to where I sat, placing her hands on the arms of the chair, effectively caging me in.
Voice low, she held my stare, taunting, “Honey, if you don’t know why a pair of red-soled shoes is the sexiest thing a woman can wear, then I can’t help you.”
Damn her. Now, all I could picture was Lucy naked, wearing only the heels I held in my hands. My cock twitched at the mental image.
Get it together, man. We’re trying to get away from her. She’s prissy, dramatic, and bratty. Sexual chemistry can’t erase that.
The grin on her face told me Lucy knew exactly what she was doing before pulling back and sashaying away with an exaggerated sway of her hips.
Annoyed with not only her, but the situation, my voice was laced with frustration as I asked, “And why aren’t there price tags on any of these?”
Turning to face me, she threw both hands on her hips. “Tell me, Preston, are there price tags on the custom-made designer suitsyouwear?”
She had a point, but I didn’t have to like it. We lived in a world where if you had to ask the price, you couldn’t afford it. While that might seem like a luxury to the casual observer, have you not also noticed that we paid the price in other ways? Like this ridiculous arranged marriage to a woman I despised? No amount of money could extricate me from her.
Silent for too long, not allowing her the satisfaction of knowing she’d backed me into a corner, she pushed further, “Oh, I see. Do you need me to buy you shoes, babe?”
Clenching my jaw so tightly I heard a tiny pop, I breathed out through my nose to keep from losing my temper on this infuriating woman pushing my buttons. Practically growling at her, I forced out, “No, I don’t need you to buy me shoes.”
Those blue eyes sparkled as Lucy tried to hold back a smile. “Well, let me know if you change your mind. The offer stands.” Turning to the saleswoman she’d put through her paces for hours, she waved her hand to the mess before her. “I’ll take one of each. Thank you, Mary.”
There were no less than fifteen pairs of shoes strewn about the showroom, and she was going to buy every single pair. Mary’s eyes lit up with the realization of how lucrative the past few hours had been, and she bustled about, cleaning up the mess and packing each pair of heels with care.
Taking the five massive bags to the car—I’d moved past bag bitch, might as well call me a mule at this point—I gave up trying to stuff more in the trunk and threw them onto the passenger seat. Myles, Lucy’s security agent, usually sat there, but he could take my seat in the back. I was done for the day.
