Page 47 of Sight of Fate

“Put it on my bill,” Macklin says, making me grit my teeth. He leans down. “If it makes you feel better, I can have Andros pay for it?”

I cross my arms. “I can pay for myself.”

“Andros or me or Teague. Those are your choices,” he states firmly.

“Fine, Andros,” I concede, wondering what the vampire will think.

Macklin opens the door to the passenger seat, then leans down and grips my hips, lifting me up and into the truck. “Good choice.” He slams the door shut.

I huff. Stubborn man.

Once in the driver’s seat, he calls Victoria. “We’re on our way.”

Five minutes later, we pull down a street I don’t recognize. “Where are we?”

“On the north side of town. Victoria’s at her other store today.”

Thirty seconds later, we pull up to the curb in front of a fancy boutique.

“This is her other store?” I murmur as I freak out about what the clothes likely cost in a place like this. My face burns with heat, but I have to tell him before we go inside. “I can’t afford this place.”

Ignoring me, he gets out of the car and comes around to open my door. “Victoria’s taken time out of her very busy day to meet with us. The least we can do is go in and talk to her.”

I grit my teeth and slide out of his truck. Mannequins in the store window catch my eye. Draped in sophisticated little dresses and fancy heels that look like they should be in a magazine, they stand in polished perfection, their faces and gazes blank. The door opens, and the most divine smell curls around me, luring me into the posh store.

“Charli!” Victoria exclaims, coming over to take my hand in hers. Gone is the bohemian woman with the paint-stained shirt. In her place is a sophisticated woman in a matching pantsuit. “I hear you’ve got a date tonight. The Fork, huh?”

Without waiting for an answer, she grins. “Very romantic. I’ve got a lot of options for you. Stand there while I pick.” She pivots. “This is going to be fun.”

Twirling away, she glides around the store, picking pieces from various racks and shoving them into the arms of the woman standing at the rear of the store.

Five minutes later, she swings by and grabs my hand to tug me to the back as well. “I recall how good pink looks on you. Try on that dress first.”

I gulp and frantically look back at Macklin, but he’s lifting his phone to his ear. Resigned, I head into the dressing room, where the pile of clothes and the woman are waiting for me.

With long, silky brown hair to her waist, she glances at me with chocolate brown eyes that seem oddly familiar. “Hello. I’m Amara. Victoria’s a whirlwind, isn’t she?”

I study the clothes with their beautiful fabrics and trendy prints, then reach for a tag. “I don’t know if I can afford anything here.”

Amara grabs the first item. “Don’t look. How long has it been since you tried on something new? And this gorgeous?” She slips the pink dress off the padded hanger and motions for me to undress.

Caught up in the cost of things, it didn’t hit me until now that I’d have to take off my clothes in front of her. My chest tightens, and my breathing becomes shallow as panic takes hold.

Amara slowly hangs the dress up on one of the hooks in front of me. “Why don’t you slip it on and come out in a second?” Her cool voice is steady and calming as she steps out. Unable to answer, I concentrate on breathing in and out to the count of five until I calm down.

A few minutes later, I hear murmuring outside the curtain. I undress quickly and reach for the pink shirtdress with its high collar and long sleeves. Slipping on the silky dress, I turn from side to side. It’s cute and hides all my scars. Plus, the color looks good on me.

I walk out, fingers tugging on the collar, and Macklin stops talking into the phone. He motions for me to turn in a circle, and after a brief hesitation, I do. He shakes his head and flattens his hand, then waves it to silently tell me it’s okay, then returns to his conversation.

Rolling my eyes, I step back into the dressing room. One little gesture from him, and the tension inside me eases. I scan the rack. Unfortunately, most of the other dresses have bare shoulders or midriff tops. The small black dress with sleeves might work. I grab it and put it on. Turning to the side, I grimace. It sort of looks like a bandage wrapped around my body. It’s not terrible, but with my small curves, there’s nothing to give it shape.

Stripping it off, I reach for the green silk, surprised to see it’s a body-suit-blouse combination with a second hanger, holding a black miniskirt. Intrigued, I slip it on and blush at the deep V that dips below my tan bra. I pull on the black miniskirt and stare at the mirror, wondering why it doesn’t seem right. Am I supposed to tuck it in?

“Um, Amara? Can you help?” I ask, knowing she’s standing right outside.

She steps into the room. “Mm. Hold on.” She disappears and comes back a minute later with a black bra. “Put this on.” And immediately steps out.

I slip on the black bra. The two sides are connected with a gold chain in the center instead of the usual fabric or clasp. Putting the shirt back on, I inhale sharply when I see the sexy woman in the mirror. Instead of a bra running across the V, there’s a delicate gold chain.