Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“It depends on who I’m meeting with. Some people expect the suit, given who I am and all. It helps to facilitate certain situations.”
“Huh.”
“Lilah, I’d like you to meet Carolina,” he says, stepping aside.
“Hello, Lilah,” says a woman in a white pantsuit. No wonder I didn’t notice her. She blends perfectly with the decor. That and I am a little overwhelmed. And this perfectly coiffed woman with a golden tan saw us bickering over my old sweats with plant life in my hair. Wonderful.
“Hello,” I say with an awkward-as-fuck smile.
Alistair retrieves his wallet from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. And from this he extracts his black Amex. “This is for you.”
“For me?”
“I know the line is something about salespeople only being nice to credit cards. But I think you’ll find Carolina to be friendly and helpful,” he says. “I’ve got some work to do. I’ll be over there if you need me.”
“Wait. We’re doing the Pretty Woman thing? Now? For real?”
“Yes,” he says. “You’re a little slow today. Didn’t you get any sleep last night?”
“I had a lot on my mind.” I take the card and look it over with interest and no small amount of excitement. “Wow. Okay. What’s my limit?”
“There isn’t one.”
“Ali,” I say with no small amount of awe, “you do realize, if you put me in this situation and give me your credit card, I am going to do some damage? There will be no polite pair of shoes and a dress. I will live out my dream to the fullest. You know this, right?”
“Do your worst, Leannan.” He sits once more on the fancy couch. “I dare you.”
Huh.
I know what leannan means. The Gaelic word is in plenty of romance novels and TV shows. However, there’s no need to lose my shit over him saying it to me. He’s just playing, after all. This moment, though—this particular addition to the wish list—it’s perfect. Or almost perfect. “What you’re supposed to say is, do you have anything in this shop as beautiful as she is?”
“Asking questions I already know the answer to is a waste of time.” He doesn’t even look up from his laptop. Just takes out his cell, makes a call, and starts arguing with Gael, by the sound of things.
“Lilah,” says Carolina. “Can I show you some outfits?”
It turns out it’s hard to speak with your heart stuck in your throat. I smile and nod and hand over his credit card.
15
Alistair works in the corner while I play dress-up. A pair of designer jeans with a red tank and matching Saint Laurent flat mules gets a disinterested glance from him. While the blue floor-length seventies-style V-neck gown with balloon sleeves receives the high praise of a distracted nod. His full attention isn’t garnered until the black pencil skirt with white silk top and Louboutin slingback sandals with a four-inch heel. Top-tier sexy librarian.
“She’ll take that,” he says to Carolina before returning to his laptop.
“She can make her own choices,” I reply. “But you were nice enough to give me your credit card, so I’ll allow you a small say in the matter.”
He smiles, but nothing is said.
There’s lots of nice stuff on the rack, but I settle on just the three outfits. More than enough to make me feel indulged. Not so much that if I die in the next few days, it will go to waste. With the shoes and purses, it must add up to four or five figures. Which is mind-blowing. But Carolina saved the truly interesting items for last. Chemises and camisoles and corsets made of the finest lace, embroidered tulle, and smoothest silk. I always thought if I had money, I’d spend it on lingerie and books. Luxury for the butt and the brain—a perfect balance. And these pieces of intimate apparel are breathtaking. But despite my brave words about credit card usage, a wee smidgen of guilt is happening.
“It’s beautiful.” I turn this way and that, admiring the black bodysuit with lace edging. “But I think I have enough for now.”
Carolina says nothing to me. She does, however, step out of the changing room and announce, “Alistair, if you’d like to take over?”
“That time, is it?” I hear him say. “If we could have the room, please.”
“Of course.”
The door quietly opens and closes. We’re alone.
“Lilah, can I come in?”
It’s not that all the salient parts of me aren’t covered. I look amazing in the overpriced intimate apparel, and he better appreciate it. It’s also not like he wasn’t going to see a whole lot more sooner or later. Any adverse reaction to the cellulite on my thighs can be dealt with here and now. This is a good thing. “Sure. Why not?”
He wanders on into the changing room area without a word, pushes aside the curtain, and grinds to a halt. “Fuck.”