Page 192 of Broken by my Bully
“And for you, sir?”
He turns back to Jennifer. “Let’s start with her.”
Let’s fucking not.
But then I’m being pulled along as Bastian follows the shop assistant to a fitting room near the back of the store. I feel like I’m in some Disney princess movie, because he walks me straight into a huge fitting room, the store clerk following with three gowns draped in her arms.
Had she just been plucking them randomly from the racks as we walked? Or had a flock of bluebirds brought them to her?
“Here we go, love.” She smiles and twirls away, pulling the curtain closed behind her.
I plop down on the velvet stool and take a big breath. Then I kick off my flip-flops so I can enjoy the feel of the plush carpet between my toes.
Why do I keep letting this happen?
…are you just not used to getting nice things?…
Shit. Maybe he’s right.
I don’t know what generosity feels like. I’ve had to fight and claw for every scrap I ever got. Even Kai’s generosity felt reluctant most of the time. But that’s because he had to carve his own way out in his house, too. Everything was given to Ezra, the wonder child, and Kai’s father, the genius.
Kai never told me how they’d ended up in the same trailer park as me and my dad, but he’d said it was temporary.
I didn’t believe him until he was gone.
Now I’m sitting here in the fitting room of a designer boutique, and I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing.
I don’t belong here. And this has nothing to do with imposter syndrome.
Iaman imposter. A fucking fraud.
And any minute now, someone’s going to figure itout.
The curtain parts with a loud whoosh that has me jumping to my feet and gasping like an idiot, hand on my chest.
Bastian steps inside, and the fitting room shrinks to nothing.
“What are you?—”
“Strip.”
“What?” I splutter. “No! What if someone?—”
“They know not to disturb us.” His eyes are black in the low light of the fitting room. He suddenly looks twice as intimidating—taller, stronger, oozing so much authority I have to stop my knees buckling.
Disturb us?
“Oh, no!” I whisper-shout, wagging my finger at him as I back up as much as the room allows. “There’s no way I’m—that we’re—this isn’t?—“
He tilts his head, eyes hooded like his patience is evaporating with every hitched breath of mine.
“If I wanted to fuck you, Haven, I’d already be pinning you against the wall.” He steps closer as if he’s going to go through with his threat right now. Then his eyes cut to the gowns on their hangers.
“You weren’t going to try them on. You were going to sit here feeling sorry for yourself. Neither of us has time for that.”
Warmth creeps up my neck. “I wasn’t?—“
I’m against the wall. His scent is in my nose, in every panicked, heated breath I drag in.
