Page 53 of An Assassin's Death
There’s only serious looks that burn right into me like he means every damn word he says. In a way, it feels forbidden to think about the fluttering feelings he gives me.
It’s like thinking smutty thoughts about my boss. My very sexy, very confident, very fuckable boss.
“Go change and I’ll meet you at the counter.” His dark eyes gleam as he trails down my frame once more.
I nod, turning on my heels without a word.
Once the door is closed and I step out of the dress, I can fully see the red flush that’s crept up my chest. The bright lighting of the dressing room is harsh and makes me all too aware of the crimson color of my cheeks.
“That’s fucking embarrassing.”
I shake my head, mentally scolding myself as I pull on my jeans and shirt. As I put the white dress back on the hanger, my finger catches against the small tag hanging inside.
The triple digit number halts me in my tracks, and for a moment, all I can do is blink at that outrageous price.
Who would spend nearly a thousand dollars on a gown? Why? Why would we spend that much on a dress? I can’t spend that much on clothes. Why would Tylin bring me here? How can he afford this?
The endless questions are still circling my mind as I carry the expensive gown up to the counter like it’s a precious, irreplaceable artifact ready to be displayed in a museum. I make sure to pull the tag out flat on the counter, even tapping my index finger against it once to pull Tylin’s attention to the asinine price tag.
He glances down at it but doesn’t seem to process the number. He certainly doesn’t give it the insulted look I gave it. The pretty cashier with far too much makeup smiles cheerily at us as if she isn’t about to rob us completely. The register beeps and chirps and the number goes up ever further when tax is added.
My head dips, trying to alert Tylin to this assaulting total that’s shining back at us in green digital numbers.
“Anything else for today?” Another perky smile is passed my way. Her name tag readsSusanin little cursive letters.
I don’t tell Susan how I really feel. I force myself not to appear defensive.
Tylin looks to me as well and they both seem to expect me to add even more to that total.
My hands raise as if I’m being attacked here. I can’t fucking believe this. Is he serious?
I hold his gaze as I grip a fist full of rings that are perfectly on display on counter. I set three of them at random in front of the woman and another series of beeps signals another hundred dollars.
“That it?” The simple, careless statement is low and rumbling and it pisses me off entirely.
Once more, they look to me.
What the fuck kind of game is this?
One where Tylin is the only loser?
Without looking, I take a pair of dark sunglasses and sit it on top of my victory pile.
She happily rings it in and the two of them have the balls to look to me once again. I blink at Tylin, glancing to the intolerable number before looking back to him. The smallest hint of a smile pulls at his lips but he never says a word.
I look over the inventory on display on our little white counter. One makeup palette, two shades of Charming Cherry lipstick, a glittering watch, shoe polish, some sort of cuppy things that go into my bra, invisible tape that I have no idea where it’s even supposed to go, a brooch that not even the Queen of England would appreciate, and even some overpriced but elaborately wrapped candy that I think the guys will like is thrown onto the pile.
And still he doesn’t look once at that fucking total.
“Anything else?”
“No. No. There’s nothing else, Susan. Thank you.” My jaw clenches and I’m nearly fuming over this entire experience.
To top it off, he pays in crisp one hundred-dollar bills.
I storm out of the pretty boutique and Tylin carries every one of my bags as we walk. I try my best to let us walk in silence. I try so hard.
His chest hits my back, the bags tangling around my thighs as I turn to confront him.
