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Andrei’s expression turns ice-cold. “No. You’re not.”

He snaps his fingers once. Two large security guards appear almost instantly from the entrance. Andrei nods toward my stepsisters and says flatly, “Escort these ladies out. Now. And never let them back in here, ever.”

The guards grab Susan and Sharon by the arms and start marching them toward the door despite their loud protests. The entire boutique watches in stunned silence as my stepsisters are thrown out onto the sidewalk, shopping bags still dangling from their arms.

Andrei keeps his arm around me, his thumb gently stroking my shoulder. He looks down at me with that intense gaze and asks softly, “You alright?”

“Yeah… I’m more than alright.”

“Why didn’t you call my attention when they were giving you trouble?” he asks, his voice calm but edged with concern.

I shrug lightly. “I was handling them just fine.”

He studies my face for a second, then leans down and kisses my lips slowly.

“Yeah,” he murmurs against my mouth. “I saw that.”

A faint smile curves his lips.

“You were badass.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks at the praise.

He glances at the rack of clothes beside us. “So, what have you picked out?”

I start pointing to the items the saleslady set aside for me.

“A couple of blouses, some work dresses, and a few suits,” I explain.

He nods thoughtfully, then reaches for one of the blazers, holding it up and examining the cut like he knows exactly what he’s looking for.

“This one,” he says, handing it to me. “And add the navy one beside it.”

I blink at him. He gives me a small smirk. “They will look good on you.”

He gathers a few more pieces from the rack, and guides me toward the changing rooms.

“Go try these,” he says.

I step inside the fitting room, and he waits just outside the door. Every time I open the curtain to show him an outfit, he looks me over carefully.

“That one fits well,” he says once.

“Try it with the belt.”

“Turn around.”

He adjusts a sleeve here, smooths the fabric there, completely focused, completely invested.

And something about it tugs at my heart. Not the money. Not the clothes. It’s the effort.

The way he stands there, patient and involved, helping me choose outfits. Helping me pick work clothes feels strangely intimate. And it makes my chest ache in a way I can’t quite explain.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Rosie

Later that night, we’re lying in bed, the room quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioner, when Andrei breaks the silence.