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I am, tears starting to form, clinging to my lashes and dripping down my face. Angelique, unnecessarily kind to someone she barely knows, pulls a delicately embroidered handkerchief out of her pocket and dabs at my cheeks.
"You are so beautiful, darling, and I understand that your circumstances may be difficult, but don’t let that take away from your happiness." She tucks the handkerchief into my hands, her fingers lifting up to pull gently at my hair, arranging it, and then she steps back, looking me over. "Look at you, transformed, a glowing woman, worthy of love when you stepped in to my little shop, but showing the world the evidence of that affection now." I glance at myself in the mirror, my breath hitching.
I am radiant, my eyes sparkling, the blush high in my cheeks, my lips pink and full, and I have never looked more beautiful. The clothing fits me perfectly.
"He will not hurt you," Angelique says, mistaking my upset. Of course, Luca wouldn’t, he’s not like that, I feel like I know that in my heart.
"I know," I whisper, and she touches my shoulder.
"Then what is the matter?"
How do I tell her that it’s me who is hurting him? Secretly spying on him in deeper ways than he knows or suspects?
I press my lips together.
"This is just all so expensive," I whisper, "and I don’t come from money or anything, in my area, it could buy groceries for a month." Angelique nods sagely.
"You know, there is no harm in a few well-placed words into the ear of a man who would kill himself in order to please you," she comments, keeping her voice hushed. "All you need to do is tell him what you want. What you, in your heart of hearts, truly want. Do not let fear guide your hand, or your actions."
I swallow, hard, and blink back the last tears.
"Okay," I whisper, and she smiles, a wide, brilliant expression that lights up her face.
"Good. Now, come, let’s show your man how beautiful you look."
My man.
A shiver runs through me, and I’m not sure what it means.
Or why, when I walk out of the fitting room and Luca looks up from his phone, his eyes raking over me, the slow, hungry smile spreading across his face, a flush of pleasure fills me, and I want nothing more than to please him.
We end up buying the jeans and the shirt. And a couple other things, because apparently Luca enjoys spending his money on me. Or rather, giving me no choice but to spend his money on me. Angelique’s words float after me from shop to shop, and even though the bags of purchases mysteriously disappear at the end of each store visit, my guilt does not.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve left Sam with envelopes full of cash from my short-lived time at Cascade and the work I’ve done for the Viper. I should be working harder, to protect everyone in the building. But instead, I’m on a shopping spree.
Luca pulls my hand into his, wrapping his long fingers around my palm, his touch warm and grounding. I glance up at him.
"What about that dress?" He asks, pointing to a window near us. In it, a dark blue floor-length dress of gauzy, floaty fabric haunts the window, sparkling under a spotlight that seems to make it glow from within.
"I wouldn’t have anywhere to wear it," I reply with a laugh, because the idea of me, traipsing around my small apartment with Sam in that is ridiculous. Luca squeezes my hand, and it feels possessive, and the butterflies in my stomach turn into something more insistent.
"That’s a lie," he says, and I freeze. I glance up at him, feeling caught out, even though it’s not a lie. When this bubble pops, I go back to my old life, eking out an existence on the fringe of things, but hopefully in a more stable living situation.
"Why do you say that?"
"Because I’d take you to parties and galas. I’d show you off," he murmurs, and then tugs on my hand. "Let’s go in." I shake my head. He’s fooling himself. Men like him don’t pick girls like me.
"I really don’t think?—"
"What if I promise you, this dress, and anything else, you can wear it for me?" His voice is low, a dark rumble, and a thrill runs through me, and his hand wraps around my waist. "Only for me. In my home, in my living room, where only I can see you and you don’t need to bear the weight or scrutiny of anyone at all?"
He looks at me like he sees right through me, all of my small and large fears laid bare, the fact that all my life I haven’t anyone to really see the real me, and I’ve hidden behind layers. Good at coding. A good friend, a good neighbor. Never letting anyone too close, except Sam, and she was safe, because she didn’t even leave the apartment ever. And when danger came to find her? I was determined to fight it.
"Please don’t," I whisper, and he leans in, brushing his lips against my ear.
"Please, let me," he repeats, and his breath is warm on the shell of my ear. His fingers flex, pressing against my side, and the heat of his body next to mine is too much, it makes my heart beat faster and a low ache throb in my core. "Let me treat you like you have always deserved to be treated. From one criminal to another," he taunts, and his words have me blushing. I guess we aren’t so different.
The only big difference?
