Page 43 of Purchase Power
Chapter 13
Focus on why you’re here. Remember? You had a mission.
Difficult enough for Lucy to think about when shewasn’tsurrounded by a small team of stylists who made it their duty to glamourize her from head to toe. The woman trimming her hair was at odds with the man taking her measurements and checking the sample rack they had wheeled into her suite at one in the afternoon.
Focus.
How could she focus with Noah Gabriel completely consuming her life, though? Lucy had spent most of Wednesday reminiscing about the way he touched her. Noah was always respectful, even when he grabbed her by the waist and threw her onto the bed. For every second he gave her a small adrenaline boost, there was another when she begged him to stay with her.He could fuck me all night, and I’d probably like it.Lucy’s hands gripped the arms of her chair as the woman furiously combed blond hair and the man flipped between dresses and jumpers. Every thirty minutes, they received an update about the tentative itinerary that night. Dinner at a French restaurant Lucy couldn’t hope to pronounce. She wasn’t as familiar with this city as she was with New York, but she knew it didn’t lack for culture and expensive tastes. They could be going anywhere – and she would have to dress the part.
Lucy was given almost no say in what she wore. She was a doll. A paper doll. A Barbie doll. These people could undress her, critically assess her, and put her in whatever lingerie and dresses they liked. The only thing they all agreed on wasno pastels.Not because they washed out her skin, but because of the time of year, apparently. “It’s not Easter yet,” one stylist snapped at the other. “No pastels until after Easter.”
They wouldn’t give her underwear until they decided on a dress. They wouldn’t put on her makeup until they knew what dress to give her. Lucy always had her arms above her head and her feet hopping in and out of clothing. The only difference between the way they pawed at her or Noah did on any given night was that these stylists didn’t also give her orgasms.
Like last night…
Noah was getting his money’s worth. After no word from him since Tuesday evening, he arranged to see her Wednesday night, when he announced he had finished his work and “seen everyone to bed.” She didn’t know what that meant. Visions of a wife, if not a small brood of children, made her temporarily sick. Yet the moment they finished their drinks and he asked her how she found her accommodations, they were in bed, too eager to take off their clothes until round two started a mere ten minutes after the first.
He had come Thursday afternoon, citing a much-needed break from work.“I have a guest coming to dinner and must entertain them for most of the evening. So, unless you want me knocking down your door at midnight, we do this now.”Whether he planned to tease her until the nighttime or suddenly showed up at two in the afternoon, it didn’t matter. Lucy was nothing but a body of tingles within minutes, and she wouldn’t settle down until he left the room.
What is wrong with me?
Dickmatized. Was that still a word? Her sister Lacey loved to use it whenever talking about her latest boyfriend, or when cajoling one of her friends for never having time to hang out. Lucy used to hate that word. It made relationships sound like nothing more than an excuse to have sex.“What’s the point if all you’re doing is fucking?”she used to say with her nose turned up in the air.“You should be going out and having a good time. Getting to know each other. Kissing!”
Kissing.
It was one of the only things she hadn’t done with Noah. His strict no kissing policy had made sense when they met, but Lucy now admitted it made her feel a bit… used?Used.Like now, with a male-female team of stylists tearing her apart and making her feel like a prime piece of meat.Noah does that too… used meat.That should have disgusted her. For some reason, however, she couldn’t bring herself to blanch. Why show off her feelings off in such fashion, when she could instead fantasize about all the ways Noah had fucked her since Monday?
“Are her nipplesalwaysthis hard?” the man asked, as if Lucy wasn’t there. “Honey, your nipples. Are they always like this? Because you can’t wear this dress if you walk around looking like Madonna.”
“Dunno,” the woman said behind Lucy. “Considering what she does for a living, it might help business.”
They’re calling you a…Lucy didn’t let it get to her. Were they far from the truth?
In the end, she stood before the mirror wearing a classic black cocktail dress that brought lift to her chestwithoutshowing off her “perma-hard nipples” as the one stylist continued to call them. The straps were secured with fashion tape and the skirt ironed flat while still on Lucy’s body. Her hair was trimmed to perfectly align with her jaw, although the stylist soon pulled it back into an ebony-black barrette that showed off the crystal earrings hanging from her lobes. She wasn’t granted a necklace. The only ring she wore was the class ring the stylist unearthed from Lucy’s personal jewelry stash. Her makeup was subtle but fabulous – dusky eyes, a dark red lip, and a touch of blush to her cheeks. Someone muttered that she had a “blemish” on the back of her neck, and sure enough, she turned around to see the spot where concealer had been carefully swabbed to cover one of Noah’s love bites.
“There. That should cover the parameters.” Both stylists stood back to admire their work. “Put her in a three-inch heel to give her a bit of pizzazz. Otherwise, she’s classy for a night out on the town…” A sigh echoed between them. “And it’s easy to rip off.”
Lucy looked away, before they caught the natural blush on her face. She had no idea what Noah planned for that night. He said they had been invited out on a couple’s date with a friend, but not where they were going. For all she knew, they were partying at a club similar to the one in New York, where Lucy sold her soul to the highest bidder.
Still, she was excited to get out of Gabriel Manor and check out the city. After being cooped up in that suite for a whole week, she was about to explode – and not in ecstasy. Noah did a good job distracting her when he was around, but his visits were unpredictable and lasted at most two hours. He never stayed the night. Why would a man, who refused to kiss her, stay the night?I could see him showering with me… God, that could be hot.That wonderful body, that sexy hair a little wet. Water spraying. Steam rising and fogging up the glass.Get a grip.
The sun was abandoning her little patch of outdoor heaven when the stylists handed her a plain black clutch and unveiled the sleek black jacket she would be wearing over her sleeveless dress. When they left, the man said he had done an admirable job with what he had to work with. Lucy took it as a compliment.
Candace came to fetch her. When asked where Noah was, she said, “Mr. Gabriel is waiting for you downstairs. Trust me. It’s better this way. Come with me.”
Lucy didn’t know what that meant, but she also wouldn’t ask.
She wasn’t as forbidden from looking around the house as they retraced the steps she took the night she arrived. As they bypassed closed doors, artwork, and fashionable architecture on their way to the grand staircase, Lucy took in what it meant to be aGabrielin a house like this.How many people can they fit into this place, anyway?The farthest she had come in her research was discovering the original blueprints for the house, located on an old, almost-abandoned website that cataloged local architecture. Lucy was flummoxed that so much must have been added over the decades. The original blueprints, after all, only sported six bedrooms, including living quarters for live-in staff.
How many people actually lived there, though? Candace? Noah?
Lucy kept her eyes out for signs of children. Yet between the fine-art in easy reach and the pristine condition of the floors in the common areas, she concluded that,shouldNoah have children, they were either at boarding school or the most well-behaved rascals in New England.
Either one was as likely, honestly.
“Mr. Gabriel.” Candace saw him first as they came down the stairs. “Ms. Craig is here and ready to go.”
He looked up from his phone, his seat by the front door a common place for a guest – not so much the head of the household. He was dapper in a suit similar to the one he had worn the night they met. High-end, tailored, a bit decorative… but nothing out of the ordinary.I’d still like to rip those clothes off and ride him into the sunset, though…Lucy bit her thoughts back. Otherwise, she might actually call her brooding master “Mr. Rochester.”
