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I try on the first piece of clothing, an off-white jumpsuit, softer than anything I’ve ever touched, with little studs stitched on the lapel and a wide leather belt. It’s adorable. At eight hundred bucks, it better be. But I remove it and try the next, a little black dress with a frilly, short skirt and a corseted top. That’s hot as fuck. I remove it,fast.
As I try on the dozen outfits, it occurs to me that my shop assistant has only shown me stuff that I could see myself wearing. It can’t be a coincidence. Everything would work at a Taylor Swift concert—a little pop rock, on the edgier side of girlie. It also fits like it’s been designed for me, so thirty-six, twenty-five, thirty-two must be my actual measurements.
The three-thousand-buck piece is entirely made of butter-soft leather. I dismiss it regretfully, my eyes darting back to the first thing.
And then I take the little black dress again. It’s far too sexy for meeting my freaking stalker, but it’s also gorgeous, and something I’d likely wear again.
And a small part of me also knows that a dress like that holds a little power over men. Callum Noble is already far too powerful; it can’t hurt to leave him a little tongue-tied.
“That’s the one,” I finally say.
“I had a feeling.” The woman smirks, raising a single brow. “Not a date, huh?”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes.
The dress costs a thousand bucks, which leaves over half of what he gave me for tonight. I could just return it, but instead, I browse the accessory aisle while the shop assistant packs the dress.
I notice a long red chain, with an adorable little bow featuring a pearl at its center.
“Hey,” I call. “Sorry, what’s your name?”
“Annalise, miss.”
“Right. Do you do shoes, Annalise?” I ask.
I could go to another store, but something tells me Annalise is my best option.
“Of course, through these doors.” She waves behind the counter. “Would you like some help?”
I’m relieved she offers. “Please. I don’t want high heels. And red, if you can find it?”
I tell myself it’s because of the necklace. Besides, black and red just make sense. It’s absolutely not because Callum instructed me to find something red. I don’t take orders, least of all from that perverted Noble.
Annalise finds me a pair of mid-height heeled Mary Janes with a bow that goes so well with my necklace.
I make a face as I swipe my card, immediately getting a notification from my bank, who likely thinks I’ve been replaced by pod people. I shop at Primark, not fancy little boutiques.
But I confirm the transaction, and they accept it, swiping away just under two thousand euros in an instant. For some reason, I don’t feel sick.
“If I may, there’s a makeup store across the road that occasionally takes walk-ins. Tell him I sent you. He’ll do your hair, too."
My hair. Usually, I just let it be or tie it up. But I’ve been invited to Le Luminaris. And there will be photographers. And I have a wonderful little dress.
If I choose to do it, it has nothing to do with Callum.
“Right.”
CHAPTER 5
liv
He’s there when I arrive, chatting with some blond guy whose hair is as pale as mine, at the entrance, beyond the bodyguard and ribbon keeping us peasants away from Le Luminaris.
I shift uncomfortably, half expecting to get shooed at the door.
"I’m with?—”
The bulky, tall, bald man in uniform lifts the barrier before I can finish the sentence, waving me in. He didn’t even ask for a name.
