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“I bet it is,” I mutter, smiling when he returns with the card machine, tapping my PIN in. And we both wait this time, watching for the glorious wordApprovedto appear on the screen.
I breathe out my relief when it does, write down my address for Hans to have them delivered, and call Clive on my way back to let him know Harrods will be dropping off a gift for Ava later today and to keep it in the safe until I collect it from him.
I make it back to the dressing rooms with one minute to spare and drop to the couch, exhausted, just as Zoe peeks around the door to check I’m back.
She smiles. “Ready?”
“Ready.” I exhale, getting comfortable, just as Ava breezes out in a beautiful taupe gown. I lied. I’m not ready at all. I stare at her, mouth open, dazzled, as she holds her hands out to the side, like she’s scared to touch it.
“What do you think?” she asks, as Zoe stands to the side, smiling.
I blink, shift in my seat, shit happening behind the fly of my jeans that shouldn’t be happening in Harrods. “I—” I clear my throat. I didn’t appreciate how hard this might be. Watching her try on dress after dress, all of which I know are going to be stunning on her, not to mention sitting here while she’s in there undressing over and over again. “It’s beautiful.”
She smiles, almost shy. “You think?”
Just look at her. Do I think? Fuck me, she’s flawless. This is going to be torture.
“You can’t buy the first dress you try on.” Zoe ushers her back into the dressing room. “Next.”
I was right to be worried. It’s plain torture watching Ava appear time and again in various beautiful gowns, all fitting her like they were made for her, all absolutelybeggingto be ripped off. Damn, I wish I didn’t need to go to The Manor. I want to take her home and hide in our bed until this evening. On that thought, I get up and wander out of the shopping area, calling John. He doesn’t answer.
Zoe appears, dragging another trolley along. “You’re really pushing your luck.”
“It’s just a few more things.”
“Looks like it. How much longer do you need to bankrupt me?” My phone rings in my hand.
“Only another hour or so,” she sings, smiling sweetly. I shake my head at my stupid self. What was I thinking? I answer the unknown number; I won’t be making that mistake again.
“Mr. Ward, it’s Hans.”
“Is there a problem, Hans?”
“No, no problem. I pulled a few strings and had the ring resized so your purchases are ready. I can have them delivered now?”
“Actually, I’m still in the store.”
“You are?” he asks, surprised.
I point a look at Zoe. “Yes, I am.” Hemorrhaging cash. “I’ll pop down and pick them up.”
“Excellent.”
I hang up. “If she asks where I am, I’m using the gents.”
“Whatever you say.” Zoe pulls the rail on, and I dash off, wondering when security might show up and find out what the fuck I’m doing running circles around Harrods.
I make it to Hans, who’s standing, arm extended, smiling, with two green bags suspended from his finger. I hardly even slow my pace, swiping them from his hand as I jog past, his body turning to follow me. “Good luck, Mr. Ward,” he calls with a clap of his hands.
I break out of the store and keep up my pace to my car, opening the driver’s door and stuffing the bags beneath the seat. Jesus Christ, this car is currently worth around half a million as it stands. I shut the door and lock it. Walk two paces, pause, and look back at my car. Press the fob to lock it again. Reverse my steps and check it’sreallylocked.
When I make it back to the dressing area, Zoe is grinning. “What?” I ask, nervous.
“Nothing,” she sings, as a young girl shuffles past with a dress bag laid over her arms, her back purposely turned toward me.
“What’s that?”
“Just sit down and enjoy the rest of your show.” She wanders off. “It’s cost you enough.”
