Page 8 of Devotion

He shrugs. “Get them something good. Have a nice time.”

I can’t argue with his generosity any further because he’s already focused back on his work.

I feel rather guilty, spending so many credits when I’ve done next to nothing in the three days I’ve been his partner.

But I have had to put up with a weird, grumpy, workaholic man who refuses to let me do my job, so maybe that’s worth something.

On my fourthday as Gabriel’s partner, I’m in a good mood because I had such a great time with my family the evening before. They were all thrilled with my success, and they were convinced that Gabriel will eventually let me do more for him once he gets used to things.

He’s not from the Capital, my mother said. People are different in other places. He needs a transition period.

Maybe she’s right.

For all those reasons, I’m in a giddy mood all morning, and I can’t help smiling as I sketch the garden scene outside my window nook and then switch gears to sketch Gabriel at his desk.

He does have an aesthetically appealing bone structure. He’s not merely attractive. He’s also interesting to look at. It’s a challenge to capture the lines and shadows of his face and the rumpled thickness of his hair.

After a while, he starts looking over at me occasionally. I’m not sure why, but it’s definitely more than normal.

Worried he might be annoyed that I’m focused on him, I flip back to my sketch of the garden and work on that some more instead.

But he’s still looking over at me. Like something about me is distracting or bothering him.

He’s never done that before, so it definitely catches my attention. He’s usually completely oblivious to my presence.

“Is something wrong?” I ask at last.

“With what?”

“I don’t know. With me? Am I annoying you? If I am, please tell me so I can fix it.”

“No, you’re not annoying me.” He turns back to his work as if he’s going to leave it at that but then must change his mind. He glances over again. “It is kind of distracting.”

“What is?” I have no idea what he’s talking about.

He waves vaguely in my direction. “That dress. All that cleavage. There. All the time. It’s distracting.”

I should be a bit put out by his irrational, rather cranky complaint, but instead, I’m washed with excited pleasure.

Before now, I had no hints of any kind that he was aware I even possessed a body, much less could be distracted by it.

I glance down at my dress. It’s much less overtly sexual than most of the other partners’ outfits, but it does have a fairly deep scooped neckline. “Oh.”

“Can you wear something that shows less?”

“This is the only palace dress I have. They only give us one when we arrive.”

He frowns, his eyes moving grumpily between my face and my neckline.

“I can buy another one if you’d like me to. I’d just need the credits for it.”

“Oh. Yeah. Great. That would be great.” He pulls out his credit pad and pauses before he starts writing.

“A good palace dress typically costs fifty credits,” I tell him.

He nods and writes out something on the top sheet. “Get a few if you want. Less cleavage.”

I stare at the amount he wrote on the sheet he hands me. “You want me to spend all this on clothes?”

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