Chapter 50
2228words
She kissed Nicholas twice on each cheek, taking care not to transfer even a speck of her bright crimson lipstick—as women on the Upper East Side have all been trained to do.
'Forgive me, we didn't know you were coming in this morning. I would have cleared out the floor, or at the very least, requested some of the ladies to come in early and help you."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
What? Is Miss Manners over here actually pimping for him now?
'It was a spur of the moment decision, Ruby."
Of course her name was Ruby. Just like my mother's cat.
'And I don't think we'll be needing any help." He glanced at me quickly, before turning back to her with a charming smile. 'I think my friend and I will just browse for a while."
She looked completely taken aback. Clearly, this was not the normal way of things. I could only imagine how many times he'd come in here, looking for a dress, or a diamond, or a pair of trillion dollar shoes for his new flavor of the month. My guess was that he was asked to describe the flavor in three simple words, and the rest of them would pick things for him.
But not today.
"Of course, dear. Whatever you like," she replied tentatively, but it was evident she was uncomfortable not being hands-on. Sensing her unease, Nicholas made a gracious request.
"But we might like a little champagne...?"
Her face lit up with an indulgent smile, pinching his cheek as if they shared many secrets. He returned the smile politely, then rubbed his reddened skin as soon as she left.
"I wish she would stop doing that," he muttered. "It's getting worse every time."
I grinned, glad to see something amiss in his perfect world.
"She's an old lady—what do you expect? It's adorable."
He shot me a look, lowering his hand as Ruby returned.
"It's only adorable because she's not doing it to you."
We fell silent, thanking her for the champagne multiple times before she left. Nicholas clinked his glass against mine, eyes twinkling.
"To my apology."
I clinked back.
"Whatever it may be."
He downed his in three gulps, urging me to do the same. My head spun; I had missed dinner and breakfast thanks to him and his father. One glass was my new limit.
"So what are we doing here?" I surveyed the store, my PR mind churning.
If I could get him excited about doting on someone new (one of Nicholas's favorite pastimes), he might be less resistant to me finding an actress or model to attract his attention.
Maybe I could convince him to buy these earrings—
"We're here for you."
I turned to see him staring thoughtfully at me, an unusual expression softening his face. Confused, I asked, "For me? What does that mean, we're here for me?"
Another odd expression flitted across his face, a crooked smile forming. "That dress I ruined, it was Dior. I know because I found the wet tags in my pocket this morning. That must have been... quite the dress to spoil."
Embarrassment flushed my cheeks.
"That couldn't have been easy for you to buy," he was going to say.
He was right, but I didn't want to hear it. I was already mortified he realized why I left the tags on.
"Nicholas," I said, moving towards the door, "you don't have to—"
"Please," he interrupted, catching my wrist gently. "Let me."
"No," I insisted. "That's not the kind of relationship we have. That's not what—"
"What?" he cut in. "Working with me means you have to budget for collateral fountain damage?" He shook his head, pulling me further into the store. "No. I broke it, now you have to let me fix it."
I started to protest again, but he stopped me.
'And if you're stuck on this whole ‘that's not the relationship we have' bullshit, then I can play along. The relationship we have is professional. You are therefore being professionally recompensed for damages accrued in a professional capacity. Hazards of the job."
My lips twitched up, and I tried not to smile. He saw through it at once.
'Or, I could just tell the truth. Say that you're one of my best friends, and I'm truly sorry for ruining your big night out, and I'm sorry for ruining your dress." His head tilted down with a coaxing grin. 'Since I have more money than Donald Trump, will you please let me pay for it?"
Nicholas was used to getting what he wanted. And I was used to eventually caving in.
But this time—I had to say that I was sincerely touched.
One of my best friends.
I never knew he felt that way.
'Alright," I agreed quietly, collecting my thoughts. The champagne wasn't making it very easy. 'But something the same price—not a penny more, okay?"
He rolled his eyes, but agreed—steering me through the winding aisles like a train conductor who had been there many, many times before.
Predictably, he went straight for the lingerie section, but I shook my head and tugged him over to the purses. The last thing I wanted Mitchell Huntington to see was a picture of his son buying me some lacy garter. Besides, as expensive as they were, the purses were probably some of the cheapest things in this store.
'Really?" He slumped against the counter with obvious disappointment. 'Bags?"
'Not bags," I corrected, 'purses."
'What's the difference?"
'A bag is something you use to haul around make-up and phones."
'...and a purse?"
'A purse is something you use to carry make-up and phones. There's refinement." He chuckled softly as I picked one up to examine it, looking it over with a practiced eye. 'This one might actually be big enough for my entire laptop..."
'No—come on!" He stood up suddenly. 'A work purse? That's what you're choosing?"
I glanced up in surprise.
'...yes? Why does that matter?"
'Because it's boring!"
'It's useful!" I shot back. 'I'll use it every day!"
A timid-looking Ruby appeared from nowhere and ventured in between us.
'More champagne?" she offered.
We downed another two flutes and sent her on her way.
'Fine," Nicholas glared, 'I'll get the damn purse."
He snatched it out of my hands and stormed away. But he didn't head back towards the front counter to pay. Instead, he started winding in a circuitous path around the entire store.
'Damn it to hell—Nicholas!"
I hurried after him, as fast as my borrowed heels could take me.
He was in the shoe section now, looking over the rows of heels with the bored, yet practiced eye of a man who had grown up in high society.
The second I rushed around the corner, he seized me up and down with the suddenly-not-bored, and practiced eye of a man who had slept with a great many women.
'What are you? A six? Six and a half?"
What the fuck kind of voodoo skill was that?!
'Why does it matter?" I panted, breathless from the chase. 'I already picked out the purse. It's price equivalent. Let's go."
He completely ignored me, focused on my feet. For a second, it looked like he was about to tear them off and just check for himself, then his face illuminated with a sudden realization.
'Those are Gina's shoes. She was a size six."
All at once, the hunt was on. His eyes swept up and down the rows as he marched between them, dismissing each one of them at a glance. I rushed after him, confused as hell and starting to feel a little dizzy from the champagne.
'Seriously Nicholas, what are you—"
'Aha!"
With a look of great triumph, he reached down and extracted a shimmering pair.
I had truly never seen anything like them. You hear about gladiator sandals, but never gladiator stilettos. At least...not like this.
The sides of them were inlaid with the same miniature crystals that had been sewn into my gown. But instead of glistening innocently in a pattern, they swooped up with a sudden streak of jagged light that I was sure would stretch all the way up my calf. They were kept in place by a series of silken straps, so thin, that all you could see were the gemstones. The heel itself was a weapon. A knife-like point so high, it might have brought Nicholas and me up to the same height.
'What do you think?"
he asked eagerly.
There was that doting look again. I'd seen it so many times. But why the fuck was he using it on me? Had it really been so long since Gina? Or Ayla? Or whoever came next?
'I think..." I stepped forward, laying a hand on the display case to steady myself. Two glasses of champagne? Hadn't I said the limit was one? My eyes widened as I saw the price. 'I think they're two thousand dollars!"
Nicholas blinked. Not at all following. When I stayed incredulously quiet, he asked again.
'Yeah—but about the shoes? What do you think about the shoes? Do you like them?"
'Have you completely lost your mind?"
He paused. Then smiled.
'That's a yes."
And just like that—he was off. Both the shoes and the purse draped over his arm.
Come out with me, he said. I just want to apologize, he said.
THE MAN HAD GONE ROGUE!
'Nicholas!" I hissed, as he circled back to the lingerie.
There were quiet snickers coming from the saleswomen gathered behind the desk. No doubt they thought we were having some sort of lover's quarrel. The only thing that confused them was why I would be here in person. Nicholas usually shopped for his women alone. And his women certainly wouldn't have put up a fuss about the things he was choosing.
'How about this?"
I stopped dead in my tracks, as he held up an ensemble so sparse and sexually inviting, that I literally glanced around for the hidden cameras. Surely this was a joke, right?
'I'm sure Ayla, or Claudia, or Sophia, or Olivia would all love it." My cheeks flushed as the saleswomen giggled even louder. 'Put it the fuck down, Nicholas."
But Nicholas was his father's son, whether he liked it or not. He was born to take the things he wanted. He was born to do this at all costs.
Rule number one: never admit guilt.
'This?" He jiggled the hanger with a little smile. 'This is not my fault."
'Oh really." I crossed my arms over my chest. I couldn't wait to hear how he tried to get out of this one. 'And how do you figure?"
His handsome face shone with self-righteousness.
'You were the one who picked that terrible bag."
'Purse," I corrected, rubbing my temples.
'That terrible bag which couldn't be more than twenty bucks—tops."
Twenty bucks?!
'Nicholas—it is several hundred dollars." I couldn't have stressed the word more. 'That's why I picked it. We agreed this was supposed to be price comparable, right?"
He nodded curtly.
'That's what I'm doing. Honoring our professional arrangement."
A sarcastic bout of laughter burst out of me, as I gestured to the lingerie.
'And what about that is possibly professional?"
Both of our eyes swept over the laced bra, for a moment. The black satin straps that hung down. Connecting to a thong. Connecting to a garter. Connecting to something else that...well honestly, I'm not even sure what it was. At some point, it could have been footies.
Nicholas faltered for only a moment, before regaining his perfect composure.
'I'm glad you asked. The thing that's professional about this, is the price." He lifted his chin proudly. 'It's a little over a hundred dollars. Bringing us closer and closer to our goal."
There was a burst of laughter from the front of the store, and I shot a furious glare over my shoulder before turning that glare back to him.
'A hundred dollars?" I stepped forward, hand outstretched. 'Let me see."
In one fluid motion, he ripped off the tag and stuffed it into his pocket. If I'd really pressed him, I'm sure he would have swallowed the damn thing.
'Sorry," he said dryly. 'Reflex. Guess you'll just have to trust me."
To trust him.
I took a step back, and for a moment, everything paused.
'What are you doing?"
Over the last ten minutes, I'd asked the question a million times. But this time, it came out completely different. No banter. No games. We were talking about thousands of dollars here. It didn't matter if that was pocket change to him, it was still a hell of a lot of money. The kind of money that shouldn't be spent on employees, no matter how good of friends they might be.
Nicholas's playful smile vanished for a moment, replaced with something almost shy.
Shy. From a man who didn't know the definition of the word.
This, more than anything else, stopped me dead in my tracks.
'Just...let me."
There was no entrapping debate this time. No tricks or champagne. Just a simple request.
Let me.
