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“No. I’m good,” I say flatly as I stare straight ahead, keeping an eye on Cali and Scarlet.
When she doesn’t move, I finally slide my eyes in her direction. She sticks her bottom lip out in a forced pout and uses her index finger to run a line up my sleeve. “I’m sure there’s something I can help you with.”
“Remove your hand from me, now. The only woman I’m interested in is my wife,” I say quietly enough that only she can hear.
Her eyes widen in obvious surprise, but she does as I say and lets out a huff before stalking off in the other direction. It doesn’t matter that Chloe and I aren’t actually married yet. She will be my wife one day soon, and in my mind, I already consider her mine.
Grady lets out a low whistle. “Damn, man.”
“Shut up.” I walk off toward the perfume section.
Another associate is straightening all of the fancy glass bottles. She turns toward me when I get close. “Anything I can help you find?”
“Do you have Juliette Has a Gun?”
Her eyes light up. “Oh, yes. That’s a popular one.”
“I’ll take every bottle you have.”
The way her face pales, I’m worried she might pass out. “We have at least fifty bottles of that perfume in stock. We just had a shipment come in. Like I said, it’s a popular one.”
I nod. “Good. I’ll take them all.”
Cali is nearby looking at a makeup display. She must take pity on the woman because she comes over to me and smiles. “Don’t worry. He can afford it. It’s better if you start packing them up instead of asking questions. He’s sort of a caveman and doesn’t communicate very well.”
When the woman finally scurries off, I give Cali an appreciative smile. “Good girl. Why isn’t your basket full?”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m taking my time to choose carefully.”
Shaking my head, I move to the display she was standing in front of a few seconds ago and start grabbing boxes by the handful. I think they’re lipsticks, but some of them are brown and are called contour sticks. Whatever that means. I don’t care. If she doesn’t use them, she can donate them or keep them for the containers.
“Bash, this stuff is super expensive.”
I grab another handful—this time, jars of some sparkly gel stuff—and drop them in the basket. “Do I look like I give a fuck about the price? The only thing I care about is making Chloe smile. So get to shopping.”
She huffs but starts grabbing more makeup, murmuring something under her breath about unhinged mafia men being a pain in her ass. It’s like she forgets we’re billionaires who own our own planes and yachts. Money is no object to us. But the happiness of our girls? That’s everything.
“I heard that. I’m telling your Daddy about your filthy language.”
“Snitches get stitches, Bash. Just remember that.” She sticks her tongue out at me and stomps off toward another display.
While they continue to shop, I pull out my phone to text my girl.
Bash: Dinner tonight at 7.
Chloe: Nope.
Bash: What do you mean nope? That wasn’t a question.
Chloe: Exactly. It wasn’t a question, Bash.
Her words from yesterday run through my mind. She wants me to ask. Like I’m courting her or something. We’re not teenagers. I’m not dating her. She’s mine.
Bash: Sassy girls who don’t address their Daddies correctly get spankings, you know.
Chloe: And Daddies who don’t ask don’t get to have dinner with me.
I chuckle and shake my head.
