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He ignores me and tugs me through the door after him. A shop assistant scampers over to introduce herself immediately. You know you’re in an expensive store when someone comes over to help. I’ve always preferred the places where they leave you alone to browse. If I wanted help, I’d ask for it.
“Do let me know if you want to try anything on,” she gushes, addressing me but keeping her gaze fixed on Freddie as she unbuttons the top of her blouse.
“Let’s go somewhere cheaper,” I whisper as soon as Tits McGee leaves us alone. “It’s too fancy.”
He points at the price tag next to a three-figure pair of shoes and frowns. “I thought this was cheap?”
Fine. I guess that means I have no budget then. We circle the shop floor, and I stop to admire a pretty pink pair of cowboy boots with white stitching up the sides. “They’re gorgeous.”
Freddie waves over the assistant, and she’s there in a flash.
“How can I help you?” she asks eagerly, undoing yet another button. If she keeps going at this rate, we’ll be able to see her bra soon.
Freddie seems oblivious to the strip show happening in front of him and declares, “We’ll take these in a size five.”
I don’t ask how he knows my size, but he’s correct. I can’t tell whether it’s creepy or impressive.
“Unfortunately, sir, these are for display only,” she says, giving me an evil side-eye as if she believes I should be punished for having a hot boyfriend. If only she knew the truth…
“We want these shoes,” he says firmly. “Check in the back.”
Her cheeks flush as she stammers something in response.
“She said she doesn’t have them,” I step in to save her, even though she doesn’t deserve it. “I’ll just pick another pair of boots. No biggie.”
“My girl says she wantstheseboots,” Freddie insists. The way he says ‘my girl’ makes my stomach flip like I’m a teenager with a high school crush. “If you look in the back, I’m sure you’ll find what we’re looking for. And while you’re at it, why don’t you bring out all the shoes on that shelf there in a size five?”
He gestures to the most expensive row, illuminated with lights. There’s a gorgeous pair of black stilettos, red pumps, white trainers, and another pair of pink heels.
The woman bows her head like she’s serving the King. “Yes, sir.”
“I don’t need that many shoes,” I murmur.
“I thought we were going shopping,” Freddie growls.
If this is what shopping with him was like, then sign me the fuck up to come again…
CHAPTER 26
FREDDIE
After carrying ten boxes of gift-wrapped shoes to the car, we trudge back inside to buy Ivy a new wardrobe. She was right about needing new clothes. After seeing the way the women were watching her when we first arrived, she had to blend in if we didn’t want to attract unwanted attention. Until I make contact with the Killers Club to begin negotiations, we have to watch our backs.
“They’re perfect,” Ivy says, pausing mid-walk to admire her new pink boots.
It turned out there were pairs in her size lurking in the back, after all. Sometimes, all it takes is some healthy persuasion.
“They’re fine,” I say dismissively, avoiding looking at the curve of her calves as she swivels her ankle. “Let’s get this over with.”
I take her hand again, reminding myself that the only reason I’m doing this is to keep up appearances, not because of how good it feels to touch her again.
We pass a shop, and Ivy halts to look at the window. Her mouth falls open as she stares in wonder at a black dress on the mannequin. It’s a form-fitting cut with off-the-shoulder sleeves and cinches in at the waist.
“Let’s look inside,” I suggest.
“No.” She shakes her head. “We can look at something more practical.”
“I said, let’s look inside,” I repeat, giving her no choice but to follow unless she wants a dislocated shoulder.
