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There are four racks of garments, and Ivy darts straight for the clearance rail with me in tow. I watch her flick through the hangers. Her eyes light up like a kid let loose in a toy store near Christmas.
“Holy shit…” Ivy gasps. “These dresses are stunning.”
“Just buy whatever you want so we can get out of here,” I grumble, checking my watch.
The pencil-thin shop assistant sashays over and asks disapprovingly, “Can I help you with anything?”
I dislike her instantly. There’s something about the way her lip curls when she looks down her nose at Ivy that puts me on edge.
“We’re just browsing,” Ivy replies politely, continuing to look, then pauses. “Actually, I was wondering whether I could look at the dress in the window?”
Ivy quickly glances back at me for my approval, and I shrug with a ‘let’s get this over with’ look in reply.
The shop assistant smirks and scoffs, “Actually, I don’t think we do that in your size.”
Ivy’s shoulders slump as the sparkle in her eyes vanishes. “Oh, okay…”
“We have a plus size range over there.” The assistant points at a smaller rack filled with garments that resemble bin bags. “I think you might find those more appropriate for your figure.”
“I’d like to speak to your manager,” I say, stepping in, unable to contain my bubbling anger.
Ivy is a lot of things—a liar, an assassin, a traitor—but no woman deserves to be spoken to like that. Her body is perfect.She’s got big breasts, full curves, and a whole load of extra flesh that makes her delicious thighs and hips grabbable in the best way. Her shape is my personal kryptonite.
“It’s fine,” Ivy hisses, grabbing my hand and trying to tug me away, shame burning across her cheeks. I’ve never seen her look anything but confident, but this has got to her, making me even more determined to stay. “We can just leave, okay?”
I stand my ground. “No.”
I’m not moving unless she shoots me and drags me out in one of those ugly, shapeless dresses.
The assistant’s jaw drops as she stutters, “I-I-I-I am the manager.”
“In that case, we will take our business elsewhere,” I say. “The woman next to me has the most beautiful figure I’ve ever seen. Just because she doesn’t fit into your low numbers does not make her any less fucking perfect. If this is how you treat all your customers, then I’m shocked you’re still trading.”
Her face turns a deep beetroot red, but I don’t care that she feels uncomfortable. I want her to. I want her to squirm like she made Ivy.
“I didn’t…” The woman tries hopelessly to find the right words. “I didn’t mean to cause offence. I was only trying to be helpful.”
I laugh scornfully. “You knew exactly what you were trying to do.” I narrow my eyes. “And for the record, no one wants to fuck a bag of coat hangers.”
I pull Ivy, who is in a daze and gazing up at me open-mouthed, away from that horrible place.
“You didn’t have to cause a scene,” Ivy says. “I said it was fine. That’s why I don’t usually shop in places like that. They don’t always stock my size. I’m used to it.”
“You should never be used to that,” I say, taking a mental picture of the dress in the window and imagining how beautiful she’d look in it.
“Thanks,” she mumbles, averting her eyes and reminding me of the woman I met at a bar. “Maybe we can try somewhere else?”
I nod, leading her into the next store. While she shops and piles as many items as possible into a basket, I lean against the wall, flicking through my phone. As I do, a text comes through.
Let’s meet. Tonight. 11pm. The Auditorium. Come alone.
My stomach twists as I read it and look across at an oblivious Ivy. This isn’t an innocent shopping trip, I remind myself. Ivy isn’t my girlfriend. I’m letting her believe that we’re working together while I’m secretly planning to destroy her.
CHAPTER 27
IVY
My heart thuds a million miles per hour. It’s funny how I can stand up to men in the mafia, dismember bodies without a second glance, and castrate men with a potato peeler, yet mean girls making digs about my size make me feel like I’m fifteen again.
