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I chuckle softly, shaking my head. It's refreshing to see someone in this house who doesn't look at me like I'm the scum of the earth.
When Lori returns, she's wearing a simple but pretty sundress, her hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. We head out to the car, where the chauffeur opens the door for us with a polite nod.
As we settle into the plush leather seats, I turn to Lori. "So, tell me about yourself, Lori. How long have you been working for the Blackwoods?"
She fidgets with the hem of her dress, her gaze darting away from mine. "A few months now, Miss Blackwood."
I nod, sensing her unease. No doubt Ellen has alreadytriedto poison her against me, filling her head with lies and warnings.But I have nothing but time and patience. I'll win her over, one shopping trip at a time.
Our first stop is a high-end furniture store, the kind with gleaming hardwood floors and tasteful jazz music piped through the speakers. Lori's eyes widen as we step inside, her gaze darting from one exquisite piece to the next.
"What exactly are we shopping for, Miss Blackwood?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
I smile, my eyes sweeping over the showroom. "Everything," I say simply.
As if on cue, a sharply dressed salesman appears at my elbow, his smile all teeth and dollar signs. "How may I assist you today, madam?"
I turn to him, my own smile equally predatory. "I'm looking to replace all the furnishings in my home. Every last piece. Even the rugs and lamps."
His eyes bulge, his mouth falling open in a comical "O" of surprise. "I see. And how large is your residence, if I may ask?"
I rattle off the rough square footage, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as he practically salivates at the prospect of such a lucrative sale. They roll out the red carpet after that, plying us with champagne and caviar.
Time to put Damien's card to the test.
I take my time perusing the showroom, running my fingers over plush velvet and sleek leather, rich woods and cool marble. Occasionally, I glance at Lori, gauging her reaction to each piece.
"What do you think of this one?" I ask, gesturing to a sumptuous sofa in a deep emerald green.
Lori bites her lip, her brow furrowed in thought. "It's lovely, Miss Blackwood. But..."
"But what?" I prompt gently, sensing her hesitation.
She takes a deep breath, her words coming out in a rush. "I just worry that you might get in trouble. With the alphas, I mean. For spending so much."
I chuckle, shaking my head. "Oh, Lori. I highly doubt a little furniture shopping is going to bankrupt the Blackwood family." I lean in closer, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Unless, of course, you know something I don't. About their financial situation, that is."
Her eyes widen, panic flashing across her delicate features. "No, of course not! I didn't mean to imply..."
I wave away her concerns, my smile never faltering. "Then it's settled. We'll take the entire set."
The salesman practically trips over himself in his eagerness to finalize the sale, his pen flying across the order form. I sign with a flourish, handing over Damien's black card without a second thought.
Let him choke on that later.
We hit a few more stores after that, picking out plush rugs and glittering chandeliers, silk sheets and fur throws. Everything I need to build a nest so perfect and sumptuous it'll almost make up for not having any alphas to share it with. I even arrange for a team that comes highly recommended by the salesman to come and repaint. Lori grows more animated with each purchase, her initial nervousness giving way to genuine excitement.
"There's one more stop I need to make," I tell her, instructing the driver to stop off at the pharmacy.
As I exit the car, Lori's brow furrows with genuine concern. "Is everything okay, Miss Blackwood? Are you feeling sick?"
I force a smile, touched by her worry but not quite ready to trust her with the truth. "Everything's fine, Lori. I just need to pick up a couple of small things. I'll be out in a moment."
She nods, still looking unconvinced as I close the car door and head into the pharmacy. The sterile scent of disinfectantand medication assaults my nose, making my stomach churn. Or maybe that's just the anxiety gnawing at my gut.
I wander the aisles, my eyes scanning the shelves until I find what I'm looking for—a tube of antibiotic cream, the strongest one they have. I pray it will be enough to soothe the angry, inflamed skin around Damien's mark. The last thing I need is for it to get infected on top of everything else.
As I make my way to the pharmacist's counter, a thought strikes me. While I'm here, I might as well refill my heat suppressants. The idea of going into heat in a house full of alphas who despise me is enough to make my blood run cold. I'd be completely at their mercy, vulnerable and needy and utterly humiliated.
