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“What about it?” The fact is, she's taking longer to warm up to our arrangement than I expected. I'm not a fool. I knew it would take her a little bit of time to adjust, but it's been three days, and I can barely get her to say more than two words at a time.
She does seem to like the Christmas decorations in the house, though—she sits by the tree for hours, sometimes simply staring at it while wearing a wistful expression. I thought a trip to the mall might brighten her spirits, not to mention confirming I meant it when I said I would take care of her. That she can have everything she wants. The world is hers for the taking.
“But what about...” Her mouth clamps shut, but it's too late. I know what she's thinking. She can't hide anything from me, which she'll figure out soon enough.
“I sent your old clothes out with my laundry.” I place the stack of neatly folded items on the bed. “Get dressed. As for whether this is safe, let me remind you that you have nowhere else to go, and even if you were to find a security guard in the mood to do his job, who would they believe?”
She winces, and I'm sorry for saying it, but it's the truth. The sooner she figures it out, the easier it will be for both of us.
It kills me a little that she’s still thinking this way. About escape. What more can I give her? If I went from the verge of eviction to a mansion and the adoration of someone willing to give me everything, I doubt I’d consider running away.
I lead her to the Mercedes and ensure she's securely strapped in before taking my place behind the wheel. “When was the last time you went shopping without checking the price tags?”
“I think it was so long ago, I didn't know what price tags actually meant,” she admits with a snort.
“That ends now.” She only nods slowly, staring out the windshield. If this trip isn't enough to convince her how serious I am, I do have one final trick up my sleeve. That's her Christmas gift, one she's entirely unaware of.
Naturally, I imagined the mall being busy today, and I make a mental note to keep a tight hold on her in case she gets any big ideas. This is no everyday mall, anyway. “Would you believe it if I told you I own the place? Or rather, the company that owns the place?”
“Really?”
“Everyone told me it was a useless purchase.” I get out of the car, then help her out, taking her hand and walking beside her to the door of one of the mall’s many high-end shops. “I mean, malls are going the way of the dodo anymore. What too many people forget is shoppers want an experience.”
And stepping through the doors and into a veritable wonderland is an experience. Winter stops short, her mouth falling open as she takes in the elaborate décor I insisted all of the stores adopt, overriding the advice from their corporate offices. Lavish trees, swags of evergreen boughs, and golden stars galore. “It's beautiful.”
“And it's your playground. Not just this store, either.” I figured this was the best place to start, a department store where she could find just about everything she needed. Her eyes widen as we stroll through the lingerie section, and I find her casually checking price tags as we pass.
“I told you. You don't have to worry about that. You see it, you like it, it fits? It's yours.”
“You don't really mean that.”
“Don't tell me what I don't mean. I just told you I own this mall. You think I can't afford a shopping spree at Neiman Marcus?”
After a few minutes, she loosens up, reluctantly pulling a few items from the racks and holding them up against herself, biting her lip. I watch with amusement while knowing deep down inside, she's as excited as any reasonable person would be at the idea of having free rein.
Before long, a shopper’s assistant carries items to a dressing room for Winter to try on while a small stack of shoeboxes waits for us at the cash register. Everything she picks up makes her think of two more items she needs. I’m not about to stop her when she can’t stop smiling.
“We’ll have a nice dinner at home tonight.” I nod toward the section containing ladies’ dresses and formalwear. “Pick out something pretty for yourself. Whatever you want.”
She heads in that direction, and I can tell she’s simply itching to check the prices but manages to hold herself back in favor of perusing the different styles. “What do you like? I want to wear something you’ll like.”
“I’d like you in absolutely nothing.” The flush that colors her cheeks and how she averts her eyes tell me that wasn’t the right thing to say. I can’t let frustration get the better of me now. She’ll come around. She has no choice.
"What about this?” I ask, choosing a dress at random. Now that I take a serious look at it, it seems like it would suit her. The shining silver fabric will flow over her like liquid metal.
“That’s beautiful.” She reaches for it, testing the softness, before finding her size. “I’d like to try this on if that’s okay.”
“Of course, it is.” I begin to follow her to the dressing room—and when she notices, she stops short.
“You’re coming in with me?” Her eyes dart back and forth, her voice a shocked whisper.
“What do you think?”
“I think the people who work here might think that’s weird.”
“I don’t think they’ll care—and I know I don’t.”
When I try to nudge her forward, she bites her lip, still looking around. “I think I have to go to the bathroom.”
