Total pages in book: 225
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
I blink a couple times as he pulls the cart down the hallway.
I’m in the same spot when he’s back. “Not interested in the clothes?”
“Um…” I let that hang.
“I’m guessing you didn’t pack anything for tomorrow since you didn’t know about it.”
“Since you dragged me here against my will, you mean?”
“You exaggerate,” He pulls me into an embrace, amusement dancing in his eyes.
Irritated, I press my palms against his chest and push. He tightens his grip.
“What about the rest of it?” I finally ask.
“Clothes, shoes. A variety of things. I wanted you to have some nice things, so I asked my personal shopper to outfit you for a new wardrobe. You don’t have to keep them all if anything isn’t to your taste, but if you want them all, keep them all. I sent Nicola photos of you in several different outfits so she said she was getting things based on both your existing style and on what she thought would suit you.”
“Several photos of me?”
“I have a file,” he replies.
“A file? Can I see it?” I ask.
“If you want,” he replies. “It’s in my office at Downtown, though. You go check out the clothes, I’ll go get it for you. Don’t leave.” He gives me a dark look. “I’d find you.” He pokes me in the nose and then smiles as if he didn’t just deliver a threat.
I like nice things. I wouldn’t call myself a total fashionista. I own some designer things, but I’ve gotten the higher ticket stuff at trunk shows, from consignment shops. I’m a big fan of bargain-hunting, so while a lot of my stuff isn’t designer, some of it is. And I like fashion, love quality items, and really love getting something for a steal.
While I’m not impressed about Derek’s ability to shower me with expensive things, I am impressed with this Nicola’s abilities. Because there’s not a single thing on this rack that I don’t want, don’t like, or wouldn’t wear. There are business suits. There are designer jeans, cute tops, quality cardigans, party dresses, workout and relaxation clothes, and gorgeous footwear. There are even accessories that are my taste – to a tee.
I’ll just ignore the selection of sexy lingerie, but I might not be able to resist this comfortable and cute sleepwear. These clothes are worth a lot of money. And there are also a few boxes containing expensive shoes and after looking at them, I have to curtail my inner child who dares me to get excited, who is trying to squeal like it’s Christmas morning.
It wasn’t difficult to squash that reaction because I’m far too logical and pragmatic to let myself get dazzled by material goods when I’m here with a psycho stalker who seems like a ticking time bomb.
While I’m still perusing the jewelry, Derek comes back with a file folder in hand. I’m surprised he’s willing to give me access to the information he’s gathered about me.
That didn’t take long. The Downtown club is at least a ten minute drive. Maybe I got distracted by all the clothes. Any non-critical distraction with my state of mind right now is welcome.
“You didn’t try to run,” he observes. “Might have been fun playing hide ‘n seek, but I’m glad.” He kisses me, then shakes a file in his hand. “Interested in the birth mother? Background information about your adoptive parents? They’ve got life insurance policies willed to you, by the way. Their house is paid off. When they go you’ll have a decent inheritance, if you’re smart with the money it could’ve been a tidy retirement fund.”
I say nothing.
“I say could’ve because you won’t need a retirement fund because once you’re Mrs. Derek Steele you’ll be a multi-millionaire. I’ll hit the billionaire level by the time my father dies.”
I still say nothing.
“Aren’t you keeping any of it?” he asks.
“Huh?”
He tips his head in the direction of the clothing rack.
“I’m keeping all of it,” I state.
He looks surprised.
“If you’re willing to spend five figures on clothes for me and they’re clothes that match my style perfectly, of course I’ll keep them.”
I’m being bitchy in my reply, but it’s my new strategy. I just came up with it five seconds ago. Be bitchy. See if he decides he’s no longer obsessed with me.
“Here.” He hands me the file folder.
“Is this everything?” I ask.
“That’s what the private eye dug up for the background check on you and your family.”
“What else is there?”
“I have a file on Hallman. I have a file on Alannah Fisher. I’m having a file put together on your birth parents, though there’s a few paragraphs of information in there. If you don’t want the file, you don’t have to have it. But I ordered it in case you do.”
He sees a reaction and his eyes go warmer. “I suspected that’s why you were asking about the file. Want me to ask for a rush on it?”