Page 55 of Devil's Iris
Her lips part, eyes widening. “I don’t want their first impression of me to be that I’m inconsiderate.”
“Will you please relax?” I get to my feet and tilt her chin up. “Breathe, baby. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m sure the first dress you put on will be the one.”
“Then just choose one you like best—why try them all? And don’t you dare say something ridiculous like we’re buying all of them.” She leans closer so the others can’t overhear. “The dresses don’t have price tags. Do you know what that means?”
Amusement spreads through me at the panic in her pretty gaze and voice. “I assume you’re about to enlighten me?”
“It means they’re going to beexpensiveexpensive.”
I chuckle, and without conscious thought, lean down to press a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Oh, honey. Haven't you figured it out by now? I’mrichrich, and I want to spoil you.” I turn her by the shoulders towards the waiting staff before she can mount another protest. “Now go.”
She keeps looking back at me as she walks away, maintaining eye contact until she disappears behind the fitting room door. Only then do I turn to Penelope.
“Every dress you have in her size—pack them all and add them to our order, including the ones we don’t pick from her current choices. Especially those.” She clearly likes them a lot. “Have everything delivered to our house. My—assistantwill text you the address.”
Because if we walked out carrying everything tonight, Leni would probably have a heart attack.
“All–all of them?” Penelope chokes on her words, her eyes bulging. I give her a look that says I’m not repeating myself, and she nods quickly. “Of course, sir. Right away, sir.” She scurries out, likely to rally additional staff for the massive order.
Satisfied, I reclaim my seat, ready for my private fashion show. My wife-to-be doesn’t keep me waiting long. The fittingroom door opens, and she peeks out before stepping fully into view. And…fuck me sideways.
I sit up straight, my eyes devouring every inch of her.
She chose the Payne gray first—an intricate masterpiece of a dress. It exposes her neck and collarbone, the sleeves gripping her just below the shoulders. The right side flows freely down to her wrist, while the left is shorter and fitted, ending just above her elbow.
The bodice is ruffled and molds to the curves of her tits and waist, emphasizing the tiny dip before flowing out over her hips and down her body to cover her toes. There’s a subtle slit on the right side, a little below her calf, offering the barest glimpse of creamy skin at her ankle and a tantalizing hint of leg. But it’s provocative as hell.
My breath catches. “Wow.” It slips out unbidden before I can control it, and she beams at me, her eyes lighting up with delight. That radiant smile hits me square in the chest. I stand abruptly, my hand unconsciously rubbing over my heart.
“You like it?” She does a little spin, giggling as the skirt of the dress swirls around her. My own lips curve upwards, infected by her joy.
“I love it. It’s perfect.You’reperfect,” I manage as I close the distance between us. “Honestly, I don’t think you need to try on anything else. We have our winner.”
Her laugh starts airy but transforms into a small choke when my fingertips graze the soft flesh of her collarbone and neck. She needs a necklace. Jewelry to complement this vision. I glance at the assistant hovering discreetly nearby. “Do you carry jewelry in this store?”
“Romero.” There’s a warning in Leni’s voice.
The assistant freezes, apparently shocked that I’m addressing her directly, then shakes her head. “No, sir, but there’s a jewelry store right next door.”
It will do. I nod my thanks before turning back to my fiancée. “You heard the woman. We’re going next door.”
“You’re really getting into your role as Romeo,” she grumbles, but I can tell she’s given up arguing. “Just know I’m no Juliet.”
I flash her a smile. “I’m no Romeo either, and this story isn’t ending in tragedy. I prefer being calledPrince Charmingif you must compare me to fairy tale characters.” But even as I say it, my smile fades as I remember who her father was. A man whose death seemed to have upended her life, forced her to grow up too fast. A man whose deathIordered.
I shove that thought deep down as we leave the boutique. She doesn’t know, and sheneverwill. Not if I can help it.
At the jewelry store, I don’t give Leni a choice. I simply point to a diamond set and pick it up, draping the necklace around her neck. She swaps her cheap earrings for the diamond studs, and I finish by clicking the matching bracelet onto her wrist, adjusting it until it sits just right.
The store attendant produces a mirror from somewhere and positions it in front of Leni. She inhales sharply, her lips parting as she turns this way and that, watching the diamonds catch and reflect the store’s light.
“This is–” Her voice breaks off, and when she looks up at me, her eyes are gleaming. “Thank you.”
That soft, heartfelt gratitude packed with so much raw emotion tightens my throat and lungs, and for several long seconds, I’m unable to speak, to even think. I should’ve known in that moment that I was done for.Completely.
20
ROMERO
