Page 19 of Break Me Beautifully

"Why?"

Marshall tenses, his eyes breaking away from mine. "Forget it. Let's go in here."

The uncertainty in my guts is almost enough to distract me from the shop he's guiding me into. At the last second, I realize it's full of mannequins draped in gorgeous gowns. I know the designer because Katy adores them. "Wait, hold on, what do we need in here?"

"An outfit," he says calmly.

"You don't strike me as a guy who wears sequins."

He snorts, running his fingers along the hem of a flowing black silk dress. "It's for you. You need it for Friday."

"And what is happening—" I stop myself. “The Gala,” I whisper. “The one Bradford mentioned.”“Oh, good, so he told you.”“Why are we going to that?”“It’s how you make a name for yourself, sweet Leona.” He winks, fingers clutching the dress. I watch, fascinated, helplessly imagining him stroking his hands over the outfit while it’s on my body.

My blood quickens. “I brought clothes.”“Anything like this?”“No,” I admit. “Not even close.”“Pick something out,” he says, moving away from the mannequin. “Anything you like is fine. You said you know what people expect.” I’m guessing he’s poking fun at me, but I pick up some sourness in his tone. He wanders towards a shelf of shoes, pretending he’s looking them over, because I doubt he's about to buy himself some heels.

Pick something out?I don't need his permission. I have my own money. Well, my family's money, but I can access it. They'd probably cheer if they got wind I bought a fancy dress.

Tempted to grab the first garment closest to me, I hurry towards a rack of clothing. My hand is on a ruffled thing with more glitter than a parade float when I glimpse the blink of crimson red. The gown sticks out among the ivory—I guess someone abandoned it in this section.

Unable to stop myself, I lift it up to check the sizing. The mirror across from me shows my reflection with the dress splayed in front of my body, and I know it'll fit before I peek at the tag.

Honestly, I never cared about how I looked in this type of clothing before. As I stand there, pressing the velvet material to my chest, I picture myself dancing in it, and I imagine how Marshall will picture me, too.

Shaking my head sharply, I walk to the register.Buy it and stop thinking about romantic junk.I slap the dress onto the counter in front of the clerk.

She startles, giving me a half smile. "Is this all for you today?"

"Yes, just this. How much is it?"

"Well ..."

My phone is in my hand, ready to scan my tap-to-pay app. "Well?"

She looks over my head, dropping her voice. "It's already been taken care of."

I hunch my shoulders. "No, it hasn't."

"But—"

Gritting my teeth, I spin, glaring at Marshall who's watching me from the wall with his damn smirk. "I can pay for my own things!" I shout at him.

He shuts his eyes, looking amused as he faces away and walks out of the store. I shout after him, but he ignores me. "Bastard," I grumble.

"Ma'am?" the clerk says nervously.

"Fine. It's fine." Not wanting to deal with this mess, I take the bag she's slid the dress into. I can't believe Marshall bought my dress for me. He knows I have money. Was this a trick? Storming out of the store, I find him waiting for me beside the railing overlooking the lower level. "What are you doing, trying to make me owe you?" I ask crossly.

"Hardly. It's just a dress, Leona."

"That's my point. I could have bought it."

"I know."

"Then why ..."

"Because it makes me feel good. Simple enough." Checking his phone, he adds, "I'm not a complicated man, don't dwell on it." A frown crosses his face. He looks over my head, eyes narrowing. When I turn to figure out what he's staring at, I can't pick out anything in particular from the thick, roaming crowd in the mall. "Come on," he says gruffly. "We have to get the art supplies and head back."

What was that about?I wonder, following him as he spins away. His pace quickens, and I have to jog to keep up. "Marshall?"

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