Page 43 of His Little Secret in Discretion
A man stood beside an expensive car, holding a sign with “Sunshine” written in bold letters.
Approaching cautiously, I offered a smile. “Hi.”
He glanced from the sign to me, then back again. “Hello. I’m assuming you must be Sunshine?”
Heat crept up my neck. “Yes, that’s me.”
He gave a professional nod. “I’m Miles, and I’ll be your driver. Mr. Porter has arranged for me to take you wherever you’d like to go.”
“Oh.” My blush deepened as he opened the back door of the sleek car for me. Sliding inside, I couldn’t help a grin. “Anyshopping recommendations for a first-timer in this country? I quite literally have more money than I know what to do with now…”
The corner of his mouth twitched, just shy of a laugh. “In that case, I may have a few suggestions.”
Entering the luxury store, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. These were the kinds of clothes I used to only dream of touching back when I was working two part-time jobs just to survive.
When I was with Felix, he gave me just enough luxury to taste it—then yanked it back to keep me hungry. He never splurged on me the way I hoped, and I never dared to embrace my materialistic side. Not while my uncle was drowning in addiction, and not when Felix made it clear how much he despised “gold diggers.”
I wasn’t about to dig myself into an even deeper grave by admitting I was using him for his money by embracing the finer things life had to offer. Because in actuality, they were never offered to me. Not without strings attached. Not without the reminder that none of it I deserved.
I stopped at a pair of diamond-studded heels in a glass case. They were stunning. Yet even with Blaine’s black card practically weighing down my fifteen-dollar purse, I hesitated.
Maybe it was the fear of using him, him and his stupid, gorgeous smile, for the wrong reasons. Maybe it was Felix’s voice still keeping me small, reminding me I’d never be worthy of shoes that cost two years of my old paycheck. Maybe it was Mr. Vaughn’s words, telling me I wasn’t special, that I was only good for my looks and nothing more.
Would giving in prove them right? Did I deserve to be spoiled while my uncle was still in rehab? Felix never thought so. Blaine did. And caught between the two, I wasn’t sure which voice to believe.
A shadow fell beside me. I looked up to see a saleswoman, sleek in a fitted skirt and silky blonde hair pulled into a neat low ponytail. For a moment I half-expected her to kick me out for staring too long. Instead, her words eased my worry.
“Pretty, aren’t they?” she asked, her American accent surprising me.
“Stunning, actually. They’re so sparkly and shiny,” I whispered, eyes fixed on the diamonds.
She shrugged. “Most of what we sell here is.” Then she turned. “Shall I get you a pair to try on?”
I hesitated. My first instinct was to shake my head—that had always been my response before. But now, with permission to splurge, I didn’t quite know how to accept the luxury.
“…I don’t know,” I admitted softly.
Her gaze dropped to my feet. She tilted her head. “You look like a seven, maybe seven and a half. We’ll bring both.”
“How do you know I’m not just here to waste your time?” I asked bluntly.
She shrugged again, unbothered. “Beautiful girls like you don’t end up on the other side of the world in a luxury mall for no reason.”
I blinked at her, caught off guard by the frankness. She rolled her eyes. “Please. The wealthy men who run this city know exactly what they want. And when the women they spoil are given freedom to have whattheywant, nine times out of ten, they feel overwhelmed and undeserving the first time they walk in here.”
A humorless chuckle slipped out of me. “No kidding…”
She gave a knowing nod before calling over a coworker. “Penelope, a glass of champagne for Miss…” She glanced back at me.
“Dalton. Maia Dalton.”
“For Miss Dalton. And bring a size seven and seven and a half in each of the diamond collection.”
My eyes widened slightly as Penelope nodded and disappeared. The saleswoman only smiled, as if she’d seen this play out a hundred times before.
“Courtesy of?” she asked, leaving the door open in case I didn’t want to reveal the man behind my sugar baby trip.
Clearing my throat, I told the truth. “Blaine Porter.”
