Page 69 of Unapologetic Obsession
“Guard?” I had noticed security women patrolling the corridor of the medical room, which was just down the hall from Caden’s suite. It seemed this part of the boat was home to only the crucial rooms—medical center, presidential suite, supply storage, office, that sort of thing. There were no guest rooms located in this hallway, so… “Why’s there a guard on duty?”
His expression was impenetrable. “For your safety. There’ll be one with you from now on.”
Was he siccing spies on me? Here I was excited about the sliver of freedom I had received to explore the ship. “Why?”
He shrugged. “In case someone’s still after you.”
I tried to laugh it off, though my insides froze at his statement. The person who was after me might be standing in front of me. Everything had become obscure the moment I remembered our past acquaintance. “How can someone be after me? We sailed away from the mainland.”
“I recently found out that it’s easy to sneak into this boat,” he pointed out.
Touché.
He kissed my temple and turned on his heel, procuring a sidelong glance from Natasha. I had half a mind to ask Amelie to stay, but Caden had assignments for her. She followed him with quick steps, leaving me alone with the wannabe future Mrs. Maxwell.
The room was suddenly cold and hostile.
Natasha thrust a notepad and a pen into my hands. “Write down the items you want on this pad.”
The tension between us was palpable, and I barely knew the woman. Wandering around the boat in my robe wasn’t an option, so I complied. We didn’t speak as we sorted through the racks, ignoring each other as much as possible. The rustle of expensive fabrics and the background music were our only companions.
I kept sliding the hangers without glancing at the dresses, only looking at the price tags.
Five thousand dollars.
Three thousand dollars.
Six thousand dollars.
Sulking, I rifled through the casual wear instead.
Eight hundred dollars for a pair of jeans.
Four hundred dollars for a blouse.
Was everything in this store made of gold? What else could justify these prices? The cost of one blouse could have fed me for months on the streets.
Perhaps these outrageous prices wouldn’t bother me if I weren’t thoroughly familiar with hunger pangs. Everything here was detached from the struggles of real life. My stomach churned with a sudden wave of nausea. Knowing how muchfood I could buy instead of one outfit made me physically ill over the wastefulness.
Screw this. I saw a thread kit in the bathroom. Perhaps I could sew a dress out of the bedsheet.
“Do you have anything under fifty dollars?” I finally asked her. I planned to defy Caden and work a few shifts in the kitchen to pay for a few items. Two outfits and a couple of bras and panties were all I needed. I could rotate the outfits until the end of this cruise.
Natasha’s lip curled with disgust. “Ew,” was the sound she made.
Okay, then.
She turned up her nose. “Why are you pretending like money’s an issue? We both know Dr. Maxwell’s picking up the tab.” The thought seemed painful for her to admit.
I had anticipated her hostility. What I hadn’t expected was the direct attack.
If I had to guess, Natasha was at a crossroads. She hated that Caden offered to splurge on another woman, but she also wanted the fat sales commission. After the things I had lived through, I couldn’t waste money on frivolous things, even on someone else’s dime. I would forever compare material possessions to how much food I could buy with their estimated value.
“Don’t most stores have a sale section?” I pressed, ignoring the rest of her ramblings.
Her eyes broadened with barely contained irritation. “Stop pretending you care about saving Dr. Maxwell a few bucks. He’ll get angry with me if a new wardrobe isn’t selected by the end of the day. He doesn’t tolerate insubordination. Don’t get me in trouble with him,” she warned.
Finally, she spoke a language I understood. No one wanted to piss off Caden. If he left her with an instruction, it must beobeyed. It didn’t matter if my first instinct was to check the price tags and calculate the conversion rate of this long red gown to the cost of food.
