“So where did your cold-eyed boyfriend go?” she asked and glanced around. “Or was he your bodyguard? Either way, he is hot as fuck.”
I laughed under my breath. “I wouldn’t disagree either.”
Calla noticed where I was looking.“You’re already eyeing that boutique.”
A few doors down, the boutique waited, its glass doors and tempting displays beckoning me. It looked like a place that stole time and seduced you into spending. Calla hugged me. “Go for it. Pass by when you are done.”
“I will.” I waved and left.
The street pulsed with quiet conversation. When I got to the boutique a bright-eyed saleslady smiled at me, but the second she saw my outfit, the smile lost its shine. Her eyes swept over my plain white shirt and fitted black skirt like I had a stain on them.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“I’ll be trying on a few things,” I said with a smile that didn’t stretch far.
She skipped the usual welcome speech and didn’t offer to show me around. That worked in my favor. I had money, and I didn’t need anyone ruining my moment.
Rows of clothes welcomed me as I moved through the aisles, savoring the calm. Jeans, oversized sweaters, and simple cotton tops were basics to me. Those outfits that every wardrobe had to have. My hand skimmed over the racks, picking whatever I wanted until I reached the dresses. Summer ones were my weakness. I chose three, each in a different color and length, all of them light and breezy, the kind I used to wear to feel like I had nothing heavy on my shoulders.
My hands were full by the time I reached the dressing room.I felt a quiet rush I hadn’t felt in a while. The first dress slid over me like it belonged. Every piece I tried knew how to hold me. The mirror reflected someone who looked at ease. The dress pulled in at my waist, the straps framing my shoulders, and the hem fell just above my knees, as if it had found its mark. I didn’t check the price. It made me feel beautiful, and that was enough.
When I stepped out, a different saleslady was waiting. Her eyes traced the dress on me with a new interest, the kind I hadn’t earned when I first walked through the door.
“Are you taking all of that?” she asked.
“Yes, and I would love to try some shoes as well.”
She helped me with the clothes and walked toward the back. We passed by the handbag section, and a pale cream one caught my eye. It had a structured leather design and gold trim. The price made me blink. I couldn’t tell if everything had always cost that much or if it was the black card’s fault. Still, I had been given the card, so I picked the bag.
For shoes, I was comfortable with open-toe flats and sneakers, so I bought three pairs of flats and two pairs of sneakers to go with the trousers. I left the boutique with arms full of shopping bags, the thick kind you never fold. The first saleslady smiled as if she had forgotten how she had sized me up when I first arrived.
A few steps later, I paused in front of the bookstore. Carina’s new book had come out, and I had been waiting to feel the cover under my hands. And since I didn’t have a phone to keep me busy, I could get lost in a few books.
The smell of old pages and new ink settled around me the moment I walked in. I moved past the hardcover displays and went straight to the romance shelf.Desiring Arosstood in perfect rows, dark covers edged in crimson. I ran my hand over one and picked it up. I added a thriller, a fantasy, and a memoir that seemed to have things it should have left buried.
At the counter, the woman in her forties scanned the books quietly until her eyes dropped to the card I handed over.
She stared too long and narrowed her eyes. “Whose card is this?” she asked.
I expected that question. The boutique had smiled the moment they saw what I carried. Here, I felt like I was being questioned for cheating on a test.
“Just run it,” I said without blinking.
She watched me like she didn’t believe a word, but she swiped the card. I took my books, said thank you, and walked out with a breath that reached deep within me.
Shopping could fix more than moods. I paused at the curb, thinking about a quick slice at Pizza Inn or heading back in case Rodion had returned. The indecision held me for just a second too long.
“Are you done?”
Rodion’s voice came from behind. He stood close, his sunglasses still on.
I lifted the bags with a slight shrug. “Yeah. I’m good.”
He took the bags from my hands and crossed the street toward a restaurant. I balanced the books in my hands and followed him.
The restaurant looked like a spot only locals trusted. A waiter came right away, took the bags, and showed us in. A few people turned to stare, but my eyes were focused on a table in the corner.
Dmitri sat there with his arm thrown across the seat, a half glass of whiskey in front of him. He was on the phone. When he saw us, he ended the call.