Page 27 of Shattered Hope
“That’s different, it’s a uniform for work...”
“Then, consider these clothes as your uniform, as well,” he retorted. “You’re acting as my companion today, and you need the right clothes for it, so stop whining and pick something.”
“I’m sure we can go somewhere else… this place is too expensive…” I protested, trying to get some sense into his stubborn head.
“You should know by now, money is not an issue,” he said, his impatience evident in every word.
“I do know… but still…”
“Good day, welcome to our boutique. How can I be of service?” a woman in a black pantsuit approached them with a friendly smile.
I could tell she had recognized Wells and that she would do her best to make him spend as much money as possible.
“Good day. We’ll be attending an art show this afternoon, and we need to find her the appropriate outfit,” he said in a demanding tone.
“Well, of course. Would you like to see pantsuits or dresses?” the woman asked him, not even bothering to look at me.
“Show me what you have, and I’ll decide,” he replied, ignoring me blatantly, when I cleared my throat, seeking his attention.
“Give me a few moments,” the woman said, turning around to search the racks.
“Excuse me…” I protested. “I’m not a doll for you to play dress up.”
He cocked his brow as he finally turned to look at me. “Aren’t you?” he asked a bit snidely. “Since you didn’t give me the pleasure of your body, you can, at least, allow me to buy you clothes and chose them for you.”
The clear reference to the famous movie was quite shocking, and I opened my mouth to reject his insinuation that I was a prostitute, just to be reminded by my guilty conscience that I led him into thinking just that.
Instead, I clenched my jaw and looked away.
The clerk woman brought out a few outfits, but I was strangely attracted to a dress I identified as a Chanel, in a black and white pattern. I had sworn I would never wear those colors again, but the whole outfit – the fitting dress, in a large plaid pattern, with the white silk shirt and the small jacket in a completely different pattern – was just too lovely to say no to.
I guess Wells noticed my interest in the dress because he sent me to the fitting room with it.
It fitted perfectly as if it had been made for me, and I loved it.
“Come out and show me,” he demanded, sounding to close for my peace of mind.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled the curtains and walked out. “Is it good enough?” I mocked him, twirling around.
He was silent for a few moments, with an expression I couldn’t read, his stone mask, shutting me out. But it only lasted a few moments, and he was back to his arrogant form.
“Yes, that will work. Do you have stockings and shoes to go with that?” he asked the other woman and after asking my size, she went looking for what I needed.
A few minutes later, we were driving away from the shopping center, towards the restaurant. Though I loved the clothes, it still felt weird wearing them. I didn’t even look at the price tags, afraid of what I might see there.
The restaurant was small, but the food was divine. Wells ordered a sample tray, with a selection of the best the restaurant had to offer, accompanied by sautéed vegetables and sinfully delicious French fries.
“This is an amazing place, but not the place I would have pictured you in,” I told him, intrigued.
“I love good food, so I’m always on the lookout for places like this one. A friend recommended me this one. She lives nearby, and she knows my tastes, and she was sure I would love it. And I do,” he explained, shrugging.
The mention of a female friend unsettled me. Why was a question I couldn’t answer, but I couldn’t deny the tiny knot on my throat and the sudden weight in my chest.
The truth was I hadn't thought about it. About the possible existence of another woman in his life… a lover, girlfriend, or even a fiancée. After all, I knew nothing about him and his life.
“Is she a good friend?” I dared to ask.
“Yes… she is. She also works for me, so she’s not my lover if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said while finishing his coffee.
