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“Nick, I don’t have any clothes,” she said. “All my uniforms are wrecked, they’re stained and torn.”
I grunted.
“No worries sweetheart. We can wash them here, I have a housekeeper. She’ll mend your stuff as well.”
Joanie nodded.
“Thanks, but what do I wear now?” she asked teasingly. “I can’t just wear a robe while in New York. This is a city of stylish folks. I need to be dressed to the nines.”
That was true. Manhattan is the center of fashion in the United States, and it was common to see ladies strutting about in outfits that cost six figures. I wanted the same for Joanie.
“We’ll order you some clothes, sweetheart,” was my growl. “We’ll get whatever you want.”
She blushed again.
“Thank you, I appreciate it,” Joanie responded. “But my first questions still stands. What do I wear today?”
And honestly, I had no clue. Fashion has never been my forte. Getting dressed is simple. I order a dozen suits every season from my tailor. He cuts the shit from whole cloth, draping the fabric so that it highlights my powerful frame.
But when it came to women’s clothes? Who knew? So in a minute, I was up, striding to the closet in the foyer.
“Nick,” Joanie called after me. “Where are you going?”
A solution was at hand. This was terrible, but there was a fur jacket in the hall closet, left over from one of my lady friends a long time ago. Okay, maybe not so long ago. It’d been a month. But still, Katrina was long gone, I’d paid her off. Her fur jacket was mine now.
I pulled out the luxurious mink.
“You wanna wear this sweetheart? It’s the only women’s clothing I have on hand.”
Joanie stared at me, mouth slightly open before shaking her head firmly.
“No,” she stated. “Absolutely not. That belongs to another woman.”
My shoulders shrugged.
“Naw, sweet thing. That other woman’s long since gone, I haven’t seen her in ages. Come on, try it on.”
But the girl’s got her pride, and she stood firm, arms crossed over that luscious chest.
“Nick,” she said, lip jutting out. “No way am I putting that on. No. Way,” she emphasized once more.
And what could I do? Force her onto it, sliding that luxurious garment over those smooth shoulders? She’d fight me like a hellcat gone wild, an animal in the cage. I didn’t blame her. I wouldn’t put on some other dude’s pants even if my own were on fire.
So I stared right back.
“What do we do?” I rumbled. “Spend the entire day here in the apartment?”
She shrugged.
“I guess so. At least there’s a beautiful view of the city from your window,” she said, moving to the floor to ceiling glass. That was true. I have an apartment overlooking Fifth Avenue and the Park, one of the best in the city.
But that wasn’t doing right by my girl. Joanie should get out and see this magnificent town. Of course, I was only too happy to keep her indoors and all mine for the next day or two, ravishing those curves, but she deserved better. So unbelievably, I strode to the back bedroom, opening a chest of drawers and pulled out a set of sweats.
“Here,” I said, holding them out. “You want to try this?”
The brunette picked them up, eyeing the cotton skeptically.
“It’s about five sizes too big,” she murmured. But then her smile flashed. “If this is the best we can do, then it’s the best we can do,” she said. “Come on, I’ll get dressed and we can leave in a jiff.”
