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“Keeper or nah?” I ask when no one says anything.
Gio rises from his seat, his blue gaze intense and dark. He speaks only to the concierge. “You’ve accomplished the impossible. Box it up.”
Minutes later, as we move onto Cartier and shop jewelry, his words are spinning in my head. Did Gio pay me yet another high—and very public—compliment?
On top of that, he put his hand on my back, andkissedme! Sure, it was my cheek and only the small of my back, but compared to twelve hours ago, it was a startling turn of events. Twelve hours ago, I had whacked him in the face with his gun and he’d tossed me on the sofa like a rag doll.
It’s not how I saw things playing out after my failed escape attempt. Nerves flutter inside of me as we browse Cartier and expensive jewelry I’ve only dreamed of is hung around my neck and clasped onto my wrist.
While thisPretty Woman–esque shopping spree with my criminal fake boyfriend is fun, in the back of my mind, I’m wondering how long can it possibly last? Once Gio grows sick of me for good, and the novelty of dressing me up like a doll wears off,thenwhat?
Call me paranoid, but a real part of me still feels like my days are numbered.
We shop into the evening, building me an entire wardrobe that’ll last a month if not longer. Gio’s dropped at least a cool twenty g’s on me in one afternoon. I have to sleep with him now, don’t I? I’m just saying, I’ve screwed plenty of guys for way, way less. Including Enzo.
Again, my thoughts land on WWTD—what would Tasha do?
I think about calling her, but then I remember I don’t have a phone. That, along with my wallet, purse, and keys, are all still at the Dollhouse. What must the girls be thinking? I never showed up for my shift last night. Have they already alerted the authorities?
After shopping, Gio takes me to Nobu for dinner. His guards escort us every step of the way. An entire section is cordoned off for us and his henchmen. We sit down to our waiter promising to return with sake. Gio unfurls his napkin, a mystery across the table from me. He hasn’t said much, nor has he looked at me since my fashion show in Valentino.
More nerves quake in my stomach. I stumble over my words. “I…I didn’t know you like Japanese.”
“Is Japanese cuisine fine for you?”
“Are you kidding? I love sushi! And sake. And sashimi. And food in general. I’m starving,” I ramble. I run a finger along the glass candle holder sitting between us on the table. “Surprisingly enough, you work up a huge appetite trying on clothes.”
“They looked good on you. All of them.”
“And you paid for all of them without breaking a sweat.”
“I told you money is no object.”
The waiter returns with the most expensive sake Nobu carries and takes our order. Since we’re at such a nice restaurant, I decide to be ladylike and order only a spicy tuna roll and some sashimi. We take our first sips of sake as I remind him yet again he can have his pick of women.
“I can,” he admits, blasé. His gaze travels onto me from across the table, never leaving. “And I’ve chosen you, Falynn. You accepted that last night when you agreed to our deal.”
The sake slides down my throat, smooth and sweet. I hold the choko cup with my palm and say, “I just…I hope I don’t disappoint you. You’re clearly used to the finer things in life. I’m not.”
“Don’t worry about that. Your job is to look beautiful on my arm. That’s all.”
I tease him with a small smile. “I’m still not sleeping with you.”
Who am I kidding? This is almost certainly a lie.
He takes the bait, and releases a chuckle. He surprises me with a sexy smile of his own, his stoic, bearded face lighting up just slightly. “That’s what you say now,” he tells me, a flash of the lust from last night in his eyes. “But we’ll see how long you keep that promise.”
I don’t do well when I’m flustered. Nerves fluttering, skin hot, I change the subject. “About last night…I should probably apologize for hitting you in the face.”
“I’ve told you. A little pain is good. You’ll find that out soon.”
“And you say you’re not going to—” I say, pantomiming a knife slicing my throat.
“Falynn, that’s not the type of pain I’m talking about, and you know it. It’s why your skin is glowing right now. You’reflushed.”
I am. And hot. And bothered. And, damn, I really wish my pussy would stop aching in want. I squeeze my thighs together and clear my throat.
“What’s on the agenda for the rest of tonight?”
