Page 61 of Mess With Me

“No one wears designer labels here unless they purchase them from me,” Vivian says. “That blouse is atrocious, mind you. Did you put it through amachine?”

I’m pretty sure she means washing machine, and she’s somehow made the word derogatory. I feel badly like I’m starting to sweat through my shirt.

Sasha, meanwhile, doesn’t miss a beat. “Day from hell yesterday. You know what it’s like.”

“I’m quite sure I don’t.”

“Anyway, I’m going to look around for a bit,” Sasha says breezily.

Vivian sniffs, but I see her crane her neck to see which items Sasha pulls out as she passes. When she sees me looking, she huffs, then walks briskly back up to the front, snapping perfectly fine-looking leaves from the bouquet and tossing them in the trash.

I clear my throat for Sasha. “I’m, uh—”

“Yeah, you can wait outside,” Sasha says, not even looking up. She looks right at home, going through obscenely priced clothes the same way she did with oranges in the grocery store, prodding at them gently, holding them up to the light.

As I stare at her a moment, though, her cheeks pinken ever so slightly.

She pulls out a hanger containing a black lingerie set that seems to be entirely made of string. She holds it up against her body, that wicked smile back on her face. “I thought you were going?”

My dick once again acts like I’m not in a terrible place for a boner. “I’m going,” I manage, before practically slamming straight through the delicate glass door.

I don’t know why I ever thought I had the upper hand.

CHAPTER17

Sasha

After getting home, I find myself overwhelmed by exhaustion. Griffin insists I lie down, which is disappointing, considering all I want to do is go through the bags of clothes I bought at the store. Except it wasn’t me who bought them. I was just handing Vivian my credit card when Griffin came rushing in from outside, practically slapping it out of my hand.

“Is there a problem?” Vivian had asked coolly.

“I’m buying,” Griffin said, leaving no room for argument.

I understood then. A credit card could be traced. I swallowed hard at the thought of Creelman having access to something as personal as my bank account.

Vivian had started folding all the clothes, but when Griff saw the tissue paper, he grabbed the whole pile off the counter.

“I’m not finished!” Vivian protested.

“I am,” he said from behind the mound of clothes.

I told him on the way home I’d pay him back when this was all over—especially considering the bill came to the GDP of a small country.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I need to see a guy about a pension check anyway.”

I gasped. “Griffin Kelly, was that a joke?”

He only grunted, but I know I saw a facsimile of a smile under that frown.

* * *

I wake from my nap completely disoriented, my back aching from a lump under my ribs. I roll over to see a blazer bunched up under me, now riddled with wrinkles.

Shit. I rub the sleep from my eyes, squinting to where I know the window should be. I get up, pulling open the curtains, shocked to see a speckling of stars in the night sky.

The house is dark, and for a moment, my chest tightens. Am I alone? Did Griffin have to go somewhere? I’m surprised he’d leave me alone, given how caveman he was being about looking after me.

There’s no way.

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